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He Let His Mistress Humiliate Me, So I Took Everything From Him Novel Cover

He Let His Mistress Humiliate Me, So I Took Everything From Him

When William Whitney's mistress publicly flaunts their intimacy on Valentine's Day, the internet expects his pregnant wife to either bury the scandal or confront the woman. Instead of defusing the humiliation, William mocks her online, prompting tabloids to drag up her past. But this time, she refuses to play the victim. Choosing calm retaliation over anger, she stuns the public by posting a photo wrapped in another man's arms, signaling a definitive end to their marriage.
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Chapter 4

I took off the jade earrings my mother had given me before I moved to Harbor City.

William knew exactly what they were. He frowned, which was rare for him.

"I'll have Martha return them to you in a few days."

Return them? Of course she would.

But that wasn't all. In a few days, I'd make them pay back double.

I ignored the two of them clinging to each other and headed upstairs.

They'd clearly already been fooling around in the master bedroom. A maid was wiping handprints off the glass frame of our wedding portrait. Another was carrying out a tied-up garbage bag that reeked of something foul.

When they saw me come in, they bowed in greeting, every one of them wearing the same indescribable look of pity.

I avoided their eyes and opened the safe. As I packed my documents into my bag, a blank sheet of paper slipped out.

I glanced at it, and an idea took shape.

Then I slid the wedding ring off my finger and placed it back in its box.

"What are you doing, taking off your ring?"

Before I could turn around, something ice-cold pressed against my neck.

I looked down. A sapphire necklace.

"I was afraid I'd lose it, so I put it away." I brushed him off with a few vague words and stepped out of William's reach.

He hadn't gotten the delighted reaction he'd expected. Annoyance flickered across his face, chased by something like a bad premonition he couldn't quite name.

"Isn't this the sapphire you've been dying for? You nagged me about it for a whole month."

"Mm. Right. Thanks."

Two years ago, I had wanted it desperately. But after watching Martha wear one just like it for six months, it didn't seem all that beautiful anymore.

I gently pushed away William's hand as it tried to settle over my stomach.

My gaze landed squarely on Martha's bitter, almond-shaped eyes in the doorway.

She swayed her hips as she walked in, shouldering me aside.

"William, your mother wants us back at the estate for dinner tonight. We should get ready."

She shot me a smug glare.

William nodded.

Usually, I went to the Whitney estate for dinner alone. Then the next day, Jemima would have William bring Martha along for a proper family meal.

I assumed this had nothing to do with me and looked away.

But then William said something I didn't expect.

"Serena, come with us tonight."

Martha looked like she was about to crack her teeth from clenching her jaw so hard.

I thought about what was hidden behind the plaque at the Whitney estate.

I nodded.

What belonged to me needed to be taken back.

Martha dressed herself in glittering jewels. I went to the closet and picked out an outfit that looked as close as possible to what I'd worn the day I first arrived in Harbor City.

This time, I didn't foolishly squeeze in next to William, trying to join their conversation.

I chose a seat farther away and sat quietly.

When we arrived at the Whitney estate, Jemima greeted Martha with warm hugs and chatter. Then her eyes slid over to me, and she let out a cold snort through her nose.

"What are you doing here?"

But William reached over and took my hand.

"Mom, how can we have a family dinner without my wife?"

I looked down at his fingers laced through mine.

For a moment, my mind went blank.

I couldn't tell what year it was anymore.

Was it the year I loved him most? Or the year I still didn't know there was someone else perched at the top of his heart?

Jemima's voice dripped with acid sweetness.

"Fine. Of course. How lovely."

"But before you sit at this table, you'll serve the tea first."

The ceremonial tea service. Again.

Years ago, Jemima had used this same ritual to put me in my place. I'd flipped the table.

Back then, William had laughed and called me wild and spirited. Said I was exactly his type.

Now he paused, considered it for a moment, then waved his hand.

A servant pressed a cup of hot tea into my hands.

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