He Chose His Mistress, So I Chose Me

By some miracle, I was still alive.

When my eyes flickered open, the harsh white of the hospital ceiling greeted me first, and the rhythmic beeping of machines anchored me painfully to reality. Pain pulsed through my body, sharp and insistent, dulled only slightly by the medication coursing through my veins.

I shouldn’t have made it. Even the nurse didn’t hide it.

“You’re lucky to be here,” she murmured, adjusting my IV with careful hands. “The impact was severe. You’ll have scars, and the recovery will take time—but you’re stable enough to go home tomorrow.”

I gave a faint nod, unable to speak. But inside, something inside me was breaking all over again.

Memories of another fall clawed their way back—years ago, when I had slipped near the cliff on that trip. I could still feel the wind tearing past my screams, the ground rushing up at me. And Dante… Dante hadn’t hesitated. He’d climbed down himself, hands scratched and bleeding, shaking with the effort, until he had me back in his arms. He had never let go.

That was the Dante I had loved.

But now? Now, on that street, frozen and terrified, he hadn’t even glanced at me. His arms, his protection, his devotion—they had all gone to Elise.

I was invisible. Replaceable. Disposable.

That night, I lay in the sterile hospital bed, staring at the ceiling as snow drifted silently outside the window. Dante didn’t come. Not once. My phone buzzed at midnight, and I snatched it up with desperate hope—only for it to break me further.

Dante: Elise was traumatized after nearly being hit. She needs me tonight. Stay strong.

Stay strong. As if my pain meant nothing.

A second message followed—from Miranda, his mother.

Miranda: Althea, it’s my birthday tomorrow. Please come. I miss you, my daughter.

For a moment, I wanted to refuse, to curl in on myself and vanish. But Miranda… she had been my anchor when my parents died. She had handled everything I couldn’t, guided me until I could stand on my own. She was more mother to me than anyone else had ever been.

So, against my better judgment, I went.

The party was lavish, golden lights spilling across Miranda’s estate, laughter echoing in the grand hall, crystal glasses clinking. I lingered at the edge, trying not to be noticed—but the voices reached me.

“Dante, what are you thinking?” Miranda’s voice was sharp, slicing through the warmth of the room. “You let her get hurt for that woman? Althea is your fiancée! She’s the one meant to be with you!”

Dante’s voice was firm, defensive. “Mom… you know it’s different. Elise saved me. I owe her everything. I’m just returning the favor.”

My chest constricted.

“And what about Althea?” Miranda pressed, trembling with barely contained frustration. “Hasn’t she saved you countless times? I told you to take care of Elise, not replace Althea!”

“I think… maybe it’s time to replace her,” Dante said. “Elise is better.”

The words hollowed me out. For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe. The room spun as my legs faltered beneath me.

When I finally stepped into the hall, I felt like a ghost. Dante and Elise sat together, hands entwined, faces glowing with warmth, while I lingered like a shadow at the edge. My place in the family—and in his life—had vanished.

Later, Miranda found me, her face soft, guilt etched in every line. “Are you alright, my dear?”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Happy birthday, Auntie.”

Her hand rested lightly on my arm. “Come, sit with us at the table.”

I shook my head, eyes flicking to Elise nestled beside Dante. “There’s no need. She’s here. You don’t have to make room for me.”

Her gaze darkened with regret. “I’m sorry, Althea. It’s our fault for letting her in.”

“I understand,” I whispered, turning away toward the bar.

The burn of alcohol slid down my throat as I drank, glass after glass, trying to numb the ache. The guests’ chatter blurred around me, hazy and distant.

Then a hand pressed against my back—too low, too rough. I stiffened and spun around. A man leaned close, breath smelling of liquor.

“Don’t look so lonely, beautiful,” he murmured.

“Leave me alone,” I snapped, shoving him away.

But he tightened his grip, pressing against my waist. Panic surged, and I yelled, voice echoing through the hall. “Help! He’s harassing me!”

All eyes turned. Silence fell. The man smirked, loosening just enough to feign innocence.

“Harassing? No, no… she came onto me. Tried to seduce me.”

Gasps and whispers rippled through the room like knives.

And Dante? He watched. Did nothing.

Finally, he stepped forward, face cold, eyes sharp. He grabbed my arm. “Is this true? Were you… seducing him?”

“No!” My voice cracked, desperate. “I wasn’t—Dante, I swear!”

But the damage was done. All around me, people stared—whispering, pity and judgment in their eyes. My body shook as shame swallowed me whole.

I tore myself free and ran, tears blinding me.

“Althea!” The voice chasing me wasn’t Dante’s—it was Miranda’s. Her heels clicked against the marble as she caught up. “Don’t go, my dear. Stay. You belong here.”

I shook my head violently, sobs wracking me. “No. I can’t. I can’t be part of this family. I’m ending the engagement.”

Her face fell, sorrow deep in her eyes.

“Please,” I whispered, clutching her hands. “If you care for me, don’t let your son know I’m leaving. Don’t let him find me. Promise me.”

Her lips trembled, tears glistening. She nodded.

And just like that, I turned away, leaving everything behind, my heart shattering one final time.