Humiliated As My Husband’s Mistress, Though I'm His Wife

"Is this how you explain things to me?"

I tried to keep my voice steady, but the tremor in my words betrayed me.

Tears shimmered in my eyes, threatening to fall.

"Shirley doesn't care about the title," Tristan said softly. "I'll try to balance both of your relationships."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

He actually thought I'd agree to share him with another woman?

I bit my lip, forcing back the emotions rising within me.

There was no point in losing my mind over being unloved. I had to stay composed.

I took a deep breath and spoke, trying to keep my voice even. "Let's get a divorce. I'll make it easy for you."

His gaze immediately hardened, his eyes firm and resolute. It was as if he were ready to fight this.

"I married you, and I'll be responsible for you for life. Besides, you suffered from complications during childbirth and were paralyzed for three years because of me. I'll spend my whole life making it up to you. Just please don't make things harder for Shirley."

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "Making it up to me? By sleeping with another woman?"

He froze, his face falling as he processed my words.

Then, Tristan looked like he was about to crack under the weight of my questions.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled helplessly. "But I'll be honest with you. I love both you and Shirley. I can't let either of you go."

Before I could respond, his phone rang, cutting through the tension.

He fumbled it out, and when he saw the name on the screen, his expression tensed.

Tossing down one last line, he stood up quickly and said, "I won't divorce you."

And then he left.

I didn't need to ask.

Without a doubt, it was Shirley calling.

In front of her, he was like a puppy, ready to drop everything and run at her beck and call.

The love he once had for me? It was now all being redirected toward her.

I couldn't take it anymore. I went straight to my in-laws and told them about Tristan's affair.

They laughed it off, barely batting an eye.

"What man doesn't have other women, especially wealthy ones?" Arthur said, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't worry. The union between the McAllister and Carmichael families is solid. No one can take your place as the first wife."

They thought I was there looking for sympathy, seeking their support.

But I wasn't. I was telling them something far more important. When respect vanishes in a marriage, it becomes nothing more than a struggle for control—control over assets, power, and pride.

I never wanted to stand against Tristan, but as they had said, this wasn't just about being stubborn—it was about standing up for myself.

I wouldn't let Shirley take everything from me.

I didn't waste time dwelling on it. I went straight to work at McAllister Group. A vital client needed attention, and it was their birthday. I went to the shopping center to pick out a beautiful emerald necklace for the occasion.

The attendant packed it up carefully and smiled politely. "That will be $290,000, ma'am."

I handed over my card without hesitation.

The attendant swiped it, then paused. "Ma'am, the balance on this card is insufficient."

I froze.

This was the unlimited card Tristan had given me five years ago, one I rarely used.

I was about to call him when I heard the unmistakable click of high heels approaching behind me.

"Tristan, pack up all your latest models for me."

It was Shirley.

She walked toward me with confidence, casting me a disdainful glance before pulling out a black card from her shiny new Hermes bag.

That black card? Tristan's main unlimited card.

I held the secondary card, with its limit controlled by the primary one.

The attendant greeted her politely, "Miss Shirley, the total is $5.68 million."

With a nonchalant flick of her wrist, Shirley swiped the card.

As the transaction went through, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, exhaling with an air of superiority.

The attendants scrambled to accommodate her, handing her a lighter with exaggerated politeness.

She took a slow drag, the smoke curling in the air, and then turned her gaze toward me, her eyes filled with contempt. "Where a man's money is, his heart follows. How dare you even step into a luxury store with no money?"

The smoke clouded my face, but I didn't flinch.

I returned her glare, calm and unbothered.

I reached for my phone, calm as ever.

"Hello, 911? Someone has stolen and fraudulently used my husband's card. Please send someone over quickly."

For a moment, Shirley froze, caught off guard.

But then her arrogance returned, and she resumed her provocation, daring me to do something.