I Caught My Husband With His Mistress

Sophia Palmer had just left the hospital when members of the Palmer family whisked her away to their ancestral estate.

Upon entering, she spotted Mrs. Palmer seated prominently at the head of the table. Approaching eighty, she was still full of vitality. Next to her sat Dillon Palmer, whose mere presence invoked a tremor of fear within Sophia. Her hand instinctively touched her abdomen, a silent assurance to herself—Dillon wouldn't find out.

Mrs. Palmer saw Sophia hovering by the entrance and beckoned her over with a warm smile. "Sophia, come sit by me."

Sophia opted to sit across from Mrs. Palmer, deliberately keeping her distance from Dillon. Settling in, she heard Dillon's derisive chuckle, imagining the expression that accompanied it. He probably thinks I convinced Grandma to call him over, she mused.

"Why didn’t you sit next to Dillon? Has he upset you? No wonder he seemed a bit unsure when I mentioned bringing you over," Mrs. Palmer noted, glancing at Dillon before gently taking Sophia’s hand. "Sophia, don't stay mad at Dillon. He’s such a workaholic, always prioritizing the company and jetting around the world. I've told him to make sure to spend at least one week a month with you."

"See, Dillon does care about you. Just look at all these gifts he brought back from his business trips," Mrs. Palmer pointed to an array of presents on the table. Sophia knew these were mere props for Mrs. Palmer’s benefit. Only during visits to the estate was she "showered" with such gifts.

"Go ahead, open them up and see if they’re to your liking."

Encouraged by Mrs. Palmer, Sophia began unwrapping the gifts one by one. Perfume, jewelry, handbags—typical choices intended for women, yet impersonal. It was evident Dillon's assistant had selected them based on popular trends, none of which matched her preferences.

"They’re lovely," she lied with sincerity.

Though the gifts weren't her taste, she tried to find contentment in the gesture from someone she had once loved dearly. She reminded herself not to ask for more than proximity to him.

Dillon's smirk radiated contempt. So shallow! As long as it’s pricey, she'll love it, right? He thought she was materialistic and sitting with Grandma was just a ploy to undermine him. This woman grows more conniving by the day.

Satisfied, Mrs. Palmer clasped their hands together. Sophia felt Dillon’s firm, warm grasp, offering a strange sense of solace. So this is what it feels like to hold his hand, she reflected. Yet, Dillon withdrew quickly, revealing a flash of disdain and revulsion. He never allowed contact outside the realm of necessity.

"Grandma, we should start dinner," Dillon reminded, prompting Mrs. Palmer to notice how late the hour had grown. "Yes, yes, Dillon is always so thoughtful, making sure Sophia doesn’t go hungry."

The meal was extravagant, with an array of roasted meats and vegetables, but Sophia's appetite was lacking. Suddenly, a piece of pulled pork was placed in her bowl—Dillon’s doing. Noticing Mrs. Palmer’s approving glance, Sophia realized Dillon was once again performing for the family's benefit. Every visit was a charade of perfect coupledom. Usually, she'd play along, but now the sight of meat churned her stomach. She couldn't manage even a taste. The aroma alone was overwhelming.

Sophia pushed the meat aside and forced herself to eat a few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes.

"Sophia, is the food not to your liking?" Mrs. Palmer inquired with concern.

Afraid that her pregnancy might be uncovered, Sophia replied quickly, "No, I just ate quite a bit before coming, so I'm not very hungry now."

"I'll have someone in the kitchen prepare some ginger tea for you then."

Once Mrs. Palmer left, Dillon's voice turned scornful again. "Always putting on a performance, aren’t you?" he remarked, setting down his fork, his words biting. "Refusing to eat what I served you—looking to get Grandma on your side?"

"I didn’t mean it like that... Ugh..." Sophia tried to hold back her nausea, but the intense smell at the table was too much. She couldn’t contain it and was visibly distressed.

She glanced anxiously at Dillon, but he seemed indifferent, continuing with more ridicule. "What now, pretending to be pregnant? Again?"

His words sent a chill down Sophia’s spine, as if her heart was being squeezed by invisible hands. "I'm not pregnant," she managed to say, her voice strained.

"If you were, I’d personally escort you to the clinic and make sure it’s taken care of."

Three years ago, when they discovered Sophia's pregnancy was false, they also learned she had nearly no chance of conceiving. Dillon had no reason to be concerned.

His mocking smile was a reminder of how cruelly he’d reveled in her despair back then. She had genuinely thought she was pregnant and couldn't understand why her test results had been tampered with, but he dismissed her pleas, calling it well-deserved.

Soon, Grandma returned with the tea, which Sophia drank with a visible effort. After dinner, Grandma insisted they stay overnight.

Sophia, filled with trepidation, contemplated how to broach the topic of divorce with Dillon. From the moment she discovered her pregnancy, she'd considered it. Dillon’s words earlier had cemented her decision to leave.

Abruptly, the door slammed shut, and Dillon threw her onto the bed. His muscular frame towered over her, pulling her blouse up to expose her smooth stomach.

Sophia’s face blanched with fear as she struggled frantically, "No, get off me." Her mind was consumed with worry for her baby.

"No one’s here now, so why pretend? If you love putting on a show, why not become an actress?" he taunted, his words venomous even as he engaged with her intimately.