He Brought His Mistress Home,Now He's Begging Me to Stay

But the damage had been done. The miscarriage had wrecked my body, and conceiving again became nearly impossible.

Five years passed without another pregnancy.

Looking back now, perhaps it was all meant to be. Without a child tying us together, divorcing Tristan would be simple.

My mocking gaze met Leah's, and she faltered for a moment before curling her lip in disdain.

"At the end of the day, you only have yourself to blame. Making such a fuss over nothing, carrying on like the world was ending. You couldn't even hold on to a baby."

"Mom!"

Tristan saw my expression change and quickly shot Leah a warning look, silencing her before she could go further.

She closed her mouth, though clearly not by choice.

"Isabel, I know what happened back then was my fault," Tristan said. "But I've been trying to make it up to you all these years, haven't I?"

I didn't respond. I just stood there, studying the man in front of me.

The same familiar face. The same brows, the same eyes.

Yet somehow, he felt like a complete stranger.

It was as though I were meeting Tristan Vance for the first time.

Or perhaps this was who he had always been.

The silence stretched thin until Tristan's uncle walked over.

"Why is everyone still standing around? The ceremony's about to start."

"Coming, coming," Leah called back, scooping Jayden into her arms and heading toward the family chapel.

She brought Vivian along with her.

Tristan watched them go, then turned to me.

"Isabel, today is a big day for the Vance family. I'm asking you, please, don't make a scene."

"Besides, Vivian promised me. She and the boy will never interfere with your life or threaten your position as Mrs. Vance. Everything stays exactly the way it's been."

Dozens of Vance relatives had gathered for today's ceremony. I wasn't about to let personal grievances disrupt a ritual honoring the dead.

That would be an unforgivable disrespect to the ancestors.

I unclenched my fists, slowly, and gave a small nod.

"Fine."

Tristan blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. Then the tension visibly drained from his shoulders.

"I knew it. My Izzy always sees the bigger picture."

He reached for my hand as he said it.

But the instant before his fingers touched mine, I stepped back.

His hand hung in midair. The smile on his face faded, degree by degree, until there was nothing left.

"I've said everything I needed to say. Think it over."

He turned and walked away without looking back.

The ancestral ceremony began.

When it was time for Tristan and me to offer incense to the ancestors, Leah snatched the incense right out of my hands and passed it to Vivian.

She wanted Vivian and the boy to stand beside Tristan in my place.

"Jayden is the eldest son of the eldest son in the Vance family," Leah declared, chin lifted high, practically glowing with satisfaction.

In that moment, every pair of eyes in the chapel turned toward me, heavy with pity and secondhand embarrassment.

The ancestral ceremony was the most sacred event in any family. Letting a mistress and an illegitimate child openly pay respects to the ancestors was tantamount to a public acknowledgment of Vivian and her son's place in the family.

It was also a slap across my face, delivered in front of everyone.

They were all waiting for me to explode. To scream. To fall apart.

But I didn't.

From start to finish, my expression remained perfectly calm. Not a single outburst. Not a single tear.

A flash of triumph crossed Vivian's eyes.

It didn't last long.

Because just as she was about to press the lit incense into the burner before the ancestral tablets, a sharp snap cut through the silence.

The middle stick of incense broke clean in half.

"A broken incense stick!"