My Husband Believed I Kidnapped His Mistress

My brother still hadn’t woken up.

Every day, I stared at my phone waiting for some kind of progress, a call, a message—anything. But all I got was silence. Doctors said he was stable but unresponsive. Still no signs. Still no change.

And Colton? He didn’t ask once.

Not a single question about the only person I had left in this world. He didn’t even pretend to care. Yet, I kept my face composed. I did everything expected of me. Every flower placement, every menu tasting, every arrangement for his grand birthday celebration—I handled it all. Alone.

Meanwhile, Shania and Colton were laughing in boutiques, trying on diamond chokers and arguing over designer gowns like it was their party. They had the time, the money, and the spotlight. I had sleepless nights and blisters on my palms from handling the setup.

“You’re amazing, Ellie,” Shania would say sweetly whenever Colton passed by, looping her arm around mine. “Really, thank you so much for doing this. I hope you’re not too exhausted?”

But the moment his back turned, her grip would tighten, her eyes narrowing like blades. “Keep smiling, little servant. You’re good at that.”

By the time Colton’s birthday arrived, I was running on nothing but fumes. My body ached, my head throbbed, and my lungs still hadn’t fully recovered. But I showed up. I put on the silver dress one of the assistants tossed to me last minute and walked into the glittering venue like I belonged there.

Just one night. Just this one night, and I’d be gone.

The papers had come earlier that day—my name had been officially removed from the registry. Ellie no longer existed.

The room sparkled with chandeliers and whispered elegance. People clinked champagne glasses. Cameras flashed. And at the center of it all stood Colton—dashing, untouchable—his arm around Shania, smiling like she was the sun and he, the sky basking in her light.

He even thanked her publicly. “And a special thanks to Shania, who helped plan tonight’s event. Let’s all give her a round of applause. My Shania, the one who’d always supported me ever since.”

Everyone clapped. I stayed hidden behind the curtain of guests, my existence now demoted to nothing more than staff. And I wasn’t even thanked. Shania? No! I was the one who did that!

They believed the lie. That she was the woman he had been hiding all this time. That she was his wife. Not me. Never me.

I turned to leave quietly before the dancing began, but one of the event staff stopped me, whispering that I was needed to serve drinks to the VIP table. His table.

I hesitated. My throat was dry. My hands trembled. But I nodded.

And when I reached the table, tray in hand, everything happened too fast.

Shania "accidentally" shifted her chair back, her heel hooking the hem of my dress. I lost my balance, the tray tilting wildly as drinks spilled and shattered across the marble floor with a loud crash.

Gasps echoed. Chaos. Sticky juice soaked the hem of Shania’s gown.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” she cried dramatically, hands to her mouth, feigning shock and worry.

Colton was furious. His eyes burned through me. “Ellie, what the hell is wrong with you? Can’t you even serve drinks properly?”

I stood up slowly, my knees scraped, my pride torn.

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t even try,” he snapped. “Useless.”

Before I could say another word, murmurs filled the room.

Phones buzzed. People looked around, gasping. The projector lit up.

And then I saw them. Photos. Doctored, manipulated images I’d never seen before. Me—naked, touching Colton, kissing him, lying in bed like some seductress. Twisted versions of stolen moments, edited to look like something vile.

Whispers became accusations.

“Isn’t she the wife?”

“I thought she was just the planner?”

“That’s definitely Colton.”

“Is she his mistress?”

All eyes turned to me. Burning.

Colton’s face twisted with rage—not at the invasion, but at the possibility of being associated with me.

“She is not my wife,” he said coldly into the mic, silencing the room. “She’s the woman who seduced me. She’s a mistress. Nothing more. Shania is my wife—and the love of my life.”

My body froze.

Then the security guards came. Rough hands. Pushing. Pulling.

“Get her out of here! I don’t want her ruining our night.”