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My Husband Brought His Mistress Home Novel Cover

My Husband Brought His Mistress Home

After five years of struggling to conceive, she returns home with a positive pregnancy report only to face a cruel betrayal. Her husband, Darrell Thornton, is moving his secretary, Holly Winter—a student she once sponsored—into their prepared baby room. Dismissed by Darrell over her supposed infertility, she is expected to tolerate this disrespect. Instead of fighting, she quietly calls her mother, ready to accept her family's terms and return home.
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Chapter 4

He once promised to share every joy and sorrow with me.

Now, he wouldn’t even drink the bitter medicine that left his tongue numb.

But I always saw him eating cake in the pictures Holly posted in her circle of friends.

I was the only one who made endless trips to the hospital—enduring examinations, filling prescriptions, and boiling medicinal brews.

I drank it all in one breath, as if the child was an answer to my prayers.

I took a taxi to the hospital, touching my belly and bowing my head in silent prayer.

My child.

I’m sorry that your father doesn’t look forward to your birth.

Maybe you are more suited to be reborn into a happy, complete family.

After going through the tedious process, I trembled and signed my name on the surgery confirmation form.

The result of three years of hope and prayers was ended by my own hands today.

Walking out of the operating room, I felt dizzy and weak.

I sent Darrell a message, asking him to pick me up.

In the chat window, a photo popped up—Holly in revealing lace underwear.

From the angle, it was clear the picture was taken by someone standing directly in front of her.

I clicked on it, but it was withdrawn almost immediately.

I turned, and her sweet, delicate voice broke the silence behind me.

"I’m so sorry. I sent it to the wrong person," Holly said, her tone dripping with mock innocence.

"Are you asking Mr. Thornton to pick you up from the hospital? Sorry, but he’s busy with business matters right now and may not be able to come."

"Who are you to decide for him? Are you his secretary or his keeper?"

Before she could say anything else, I turned off the phone, my chest tightening with heaviness.

…Even his secretary had control over his phone now.

I remembered the last time he had quickly turned his screen away when I glanced at it.

Later, he explained he was waiting for updates from an important client and couldn’t risk distractions.

But I had already seen the truth—there was only one name in his chat box: Holly.

Darrell’s Porsche eventually pulled up, the window rolling down to reveal his indifferent expression.

"What’s so urgent that I had to come here myself? Can’t you just take a taxi back? And seriously, be more polite when you talk to Holly. Since when did you develop such a bad temper?"

His words cut deeply, but I remained silent.

I opened the car door on my own, feeling the faint ache in my abdomen from the operation.

Without a word, I reached for a bottle of water, but my hand froze.

There were items in the car that didn’t belong to me—a strawberry-shaped hairpin, scattered food crumbs, and… a woman’s thong tucked discreetly under the seat.

Darrell had always prided himself on being a clean freak, never allowing food in the car.

Yet here was undeniable evidence of someone else’s presence.

Once, when I had dysmenorrhea, I craved a hot milk tea to ease the pain, but it wasn’t allowed.

Now, not only is food allowed in the car—

Even...

Principles can be bent, but only for someone else, never for me.

The pit in my stomach deepened, a wave of nausea rising as my emotions hit rock bottom.

"What’s wrong now? Still sulking? Do you even realize how much business I lost because of your call?"

Darrell frowned, his tone carrying a hint of reprimand.

"Forget it, I won’t argue with you. It hasn’t been easy for you with all these hospital visits lately. As for the child, don’t stress about it. It’s not urgent."

I nodded mechanically, my mind blank. I just wanted to get out of the car, away from him, and return to the quiet of my room.

At home, I took a long, hot bath, hoping to wash away the weight pressing on my chest, and then tried to sleep.

Darrell returned at noon.

He held a bouquet of radiant foxtail lilies in full bloom, his features softened by tenderness.

Kneeling beside my bed, he gently brushed the stray hair from my face.

"Baby, I saw these lilies you love at the flower shop and thought of you."

I froze for a moment, startled by the gesture. But before I could speak, Darrell continued.

"I’ve been thinking a lot about Holly these past couple of days. She’s from a poor family, but she’s incredibly capable at work and takes great care of me. I can’t stand to see such talent wasted."

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