I Asked For Divorce When His Mistress Returned

Realizing what was happening, I slipped into the bathroom without a word. When I came out, a towel wrapped around me, the bedroom was already dark.

A strong arm yanked me onto the bed. Carlos Richards narrowed his eyes and leaned over me, studying me for a long moment. His lips curved into a slight smirk. “You wanted a divorce, didn’t you? Do as I say, and I’ll give you one.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked, thinking back to the conversation I’d overheard between him and his grandfather.

A child. Carlos wanted me to have his child.

“Leilani’s child…?” My voice trembled as I remembered the blood from when she fell.

“This is what you owe her. You’ll make it right,” he said coldly, his gaze flat. “Once we have a child, the Richards family won’t come after you or the Tuckers anymore. Adele, it’s a good deal for you.”

He said it so casually.

Leilani had lost her child, and Carlos wanted mine as a replacement. My heart clenched as the question I’d buried deep inside finally got its answer.

In some twisted way, I was almost grateful Carlos didn’t know I was pregnant.

“You really think I’d agree to something so shameless?” I was shaking with anger, trying to push him off. My child would not become a bargaining chip.

Carlos let out a cold laugh, mockery threading through his voice. “Adele, don’t flatter yourself. And don’t think you can provoke me.”

He ripped the towel away, his kisses coming down hard, his body heat rising. Over the past three years, I’d gotten used to his temper when he was angry.

I loved Carlos Richards. No matter how rough he was, my body responded on instinct.

How ridiculous—loving someone who didn’t love me back, burning myself down to ashes.

But this time, I had a child to protect.

“Please… be gentle,” I whispered.

He paused, a half-smile on his lips, the desire in his eyes sharpening.

Carlos snorted and kept going, ruthless. The pain made me bite my lip, but I didn’t dare tell him about the baby.

An hour later, satisfied, he got up to get dressed.

“Where are you going this late?” I asked instinctively, even though I already knew.

Leilani was still in the hospital after her miscarriage, and Carlos couldn’t rest easy leaving her side. He’d only come home to carry out his surrogacy plan.

Carlos glanced at me, lust replaced by cold indifference and impatience. “Where I go is none of your business.”

With that, he strode out of the bedroom.

I lay there feeling utterly defeated.

My marriage to Carlos was in name only. I had the title of his wife, but I was someone he despised.

I gently touched my abdomen and whispered in my heart: Baby, thank God I have you with me.

The next morning, my mother called, frantic.

“Adele, please, you have to help your father!” she cried, her voice shaking. “Because of the construction accident, the police took your father, and the workers’ families are outside demanding money!”

“Mom, don’t worry. I’m on my way!”

I drove straight back to the Tucker residence.

Outside the house gates, a dozen people dressed like construction workers had gathered. They were holding signs that read, “A life for a life. Pay your debts.”

With help from security, I managed to drive inside.

In the living room, my mother and Siena sat on the sofa, both visibly distressed.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, walking over.

Her eyes were red as she explained, “The families of the deceased are being unreasonable. They want us to pay, and they’re demanding your father attend the memorial and apologize publicly. Things escalated, and they called the police to arrest him…”

“Adele, don’t you have money? You should pay them and get Dad out of jail!” Siena said casually.

My mother grabbed my hand tight. “Yes! I remember your father said you promised to help with this. Did you bring the money, Adele?”

I looked down and said quietly, “Mom, I don’t have that much money right now…”

Before I could finish, my mother shoved my hand away, her voice rising in anger. “What?! You’re just going to stand there and do nothing? Adele, your father raised you all these years, and this is how you repay him? You ungrateful girl!”

She burst into loud sobs. Siena handed her a tissue and added mockingly, “Adele, don’t forget where you came from. Even if you’re not their biological daughter, Mom and Dad raised you for over twenty years. What’s a little money to you? Are you really going to let Dad go to jail?”

Their accusations—and the memory of my mother’s past love and care—pulled at my heart.

I swallowed my despair and spoke calmly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let Dad go to jail.”

I stepped out and headed straight for the Tucker Group.

With the company caught in scandal and the chairman in custody, anxiety ran high among the employees.

I found our legal advisor and told him to get my father out on bail as soon as possible. Then I went to finance and asked the CFO, “Mr. Smith, how much money is left in the company accounts?”

“Adele, the company is out of money,” Mr. Smith, a longtime Tucker Group employee, sighed. He explained that my father had poured all available cash into the current project, sure it would succeed.

I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. The financial statements in front of me only made my dread worse.

“What about other projects? Can we speed up any payments?” I asked.

Mr. Smith perked up and pulled up a document on the computer. “Imperial Media still owes us fifty thousand in outstanding payments. They’ve been stalling with excuses not to pay!”

Fifty thousand.

At least that could calm the families for now and buy us time to gather the rest of the money.

The person handling our account at Imperial Media was a vice president named Victor Williams.

I dialed his number. He picked up fast. “Who is this?”

I introduced myself and got straight to the point. “Mr. Williams, my father is in a tough spot and needs funds urgently. We sincerely hope your company can settle the outstanding payment of fifty thousand right away.”

It was hard to tell if he heard me over the loud music. He burped and slurred an address. “Saul Tucker’s daughter, huh? Meet me at the Palace Nightclub, Room Three, if you want to talk.”

After I hung up, I drove straight to the nightclub.

In Room Three, I found Victor Williams surrounded by equally drunk men and heavily made-up women, all singing loudly, oblivious to everyone.

The room was thick with smoke and littered with empty bottles, making it hard to find a clear path.

“Mr. Williams, I’m Adele—the one who called earlier,” I said politely after weaving through the crowd to reach him. “Could we step outside for a moment to discuss the payment?”

“What’s there to discuss? You want money, right? Fine. Down this bottle,” he sneered, slamming a beer onto the table.

I rarely drank, and now that I was pregnant, I couldn’t start.

My anger simmered under the surface, but I forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t drink.”

“Don’t drink? Then I’m sure you can entertain us, right?” Victor leered, his hand brushing my thigh. He reeked of alcohol. “If you make us happy, I’ll not only settle the payment—I might even throw in a little extra.”

His hand moved to grab me.

Just because I spoke politely didn’t mean I was a pushover.

CRASH!

I grabbed a beer bottle off the table and brought it down on his head with a resounding crack.