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Married to My Bestie's Husband Novel Cover

Married to My Bestie's Husband

To honor a life-saving debt, she marries her late friend's husband, Ethan, and abandons her career to raise his child. Despite seven years of devotion as a housewife, Ethan treats her with cold indifference, demanding she take birth control after every intimate encounter. When a sudden illness causes her to vomit the pills, Ethan’s fury leads him to lock her out in a storm. Watching her son ignore her suffering, she realizes her sacrifice was wasted and decides to leave.
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Chapter 2

When I woke again, I was in the hospital.

A kind woman who had been passing by had brought me here.

The doctor frowned as he reviewed my condition. "You're severely ill," he said. "Why isn't there a family member with you?"

"I'm sorry, doctor. I don't have any family."

For a moment, his face softened, filled with quiet sympathy.

I smiled wryly. Even a stranger could offer me kindness, yet the two people I had poured my heart and soul into for seven years had been nothing but cruel. For the first time, I realized how little those years had been worth.

After several IV drips, the fever finally broke. As soon as I was able, I left the hospital.

I wanted, more than anything, to take off on a spontaneous trip and clear my mind. But life wasn't some TV drama. For seven years, I hadn't worked, and Ethan had only ever given me enough money to buy groceries. I had barely saved any money.

I checked into a modest hotel for the time being. The next day, I called my old boss at the TV station.

Before getting married, I had been the most popular weather presenter at the station. Back then, when I decided to quit, my boss had tried to persuade me to stay, saying it was a shame to lose me.

But I was young and idealistic then, willing to give up my career for Ethan. I had believed, naively, that genuine love would be reciprocated.

Now, I was left with nothing.

I didn't expect much from the call, given I'd been away from the camera for seven years. But to my surprise, my former boss didn't hesitate. He arranged a meeting with the station director immediately.

Though I had spent the last several years caring for Ethan and his son, I had made time to exercise and maintain my figure. My old skills hadn't dulled much, either. After some discussion, the big boss decided to give me another chance.

Carrying my luggage, I moved into the apartment the station director had arranged for me. A week later, I was back at work.

On my first day returning to the screen, the ratings shattered the station's seven-year record.

The director was ecstatic and hosted a celebration in my honor.

When one of the younger presenters offered me a toast, I instinctively declined. "I'm sorry. I don't drink."

It wasn't until after I said it that I realized—no, I wasn't someone who didn't drink. I had given it up because of Ethan. He had told me he didn't like it, and so I had stopped.

But now I was divorced. His likes and dislikes no longer mattered to me.

I smiled and took the glass. "Just kidding. I can drink!"

With that, I tilted my head back and downed it in one go.

After a few rounds of drinks, I was starting to feel tipsy when my phone rang.

It was the police.

"Miss Victoria, we've located your nephew."

The words sobered me instantly. I grabbed a cab to the station without delay.

The moment I saw the little boy, tears welled up in my eyes.

Blood ties are a strange and powerful thing.

The child was the spitting image of my younger brother when he was small.

The police confirmed it, too. After running DNA tests, they determined he was indeed my brother's missing son.

Years ago, my sister-in-law had taken Caleb to the park. She turned away for just a moment to buy him some cotton candy, and when she looked back, he was gone.

She was overcome with guilt and grief. Ten days later, unable to bear it any longer, she took her own life.

My brother was devastated. Losing his wife and child in quick succession aged him overnight. I could still remember how he cried like a lost child, and the sight of it tore at my heart.

At the time, Jack was just three years old. He clung to me, refusing to let go, crying unless I held him.

But I had to help my brother search for Caleb, so I left Jack in his grandmother's care.

A month later, someone reported seeing a child who resembled Caleb in a nearby town. My brother rushed there, only to discover the child's gender didn't even match.

He returned heartbroken and distracted, and one day, he slipped and fell into a river. He drowned.

Not long after, the police told me human traffickers had taken a bunch of children, attempting to smuggle them to the U.S. But the ship they were on capsized, and all on board were presumed dead.

"All the passengers perished. Your nephew must have been among them..."

And with that, the trail went cold.

For years, I thought I had lost everyone. Ethan and Jack were the only family I had left.

Until now.

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