My Husband Tattooed His Mistress’ Name

The butler walked over holding tea.

I quietly asked, "Isn’t the trust fund that keeps putting money into Campbell Company still leaning on Grandfather’s backing?"

The butler right away pulled open the safe and took out the papers.

"Young Miss, your grandpa set everything for you before he left this world."

Reading the terms, I thought about the Alps' snow edge and the Venice water shine, and that antique jewelry piece, then I dialed Luther’s contact number.

After three back-to-back busy beeps, I changed to a video call.

At last, Faye’s face came up on screen.

"Older sister Vera?"

"Brother Luther is showering."

The kiss spots along her collarbone showed faintly, her skin soft and bright from being spoiled, nothing like that shy countryside girl before.

"There’s something I’m unsure if I should speak, but you’ll find out soon anyway."

"Do you know?"

"Luther said he dislikes your always calm, slow style most."

"He holds me like crazy in bed, says he loves this young, bold side of mine, it drives him wild with joy."

She stopped a moment, then started again, unable to hide her smugness.

"Right, when you sent people to press me down and cut a bit of my skin and left such a huge mark on me..."

"Brother Luther hurt me so much that he even cut a bit of his own skin to patch onto mine."

The video call ended right away.

I gripped the window edge until my pulse eased, then rang one more contact.

That night, the charity auction Luther held for Faye blew up across a hot search.

Screens flooded with, "Miss Faye first shows up as a hostess."

Attendees no longer spoke of her history as a tattoo worker, instead shifting their words to call her “Mrs. Campbell.”

A person lifted a champagne cup and praised, “Such an ideal pair, a gifted man and a pretty woman.”

Under bright chandeliers, Luther guided Faye toward the auction platform.

Their hands laced together in front of reporters, like new spouses at a large event, drawing cheers once they stepped out.

“Using this moment tonight…”

Luther bent his head to fix Faye’s ear jewelry, “I want to officially say—”

The carved gates of the party hall swung apart.

Over ten attorneys in formal clothing walked in.

The one ahead placed a stock-freeze paper before Luther.

“Mr. Campbell, based on the rules left by the late Mr. Kelly…”

Luther reached to call the guards, only to see that all the workers had quietly gone.

The man pushed the file nearer. “All stock under your title in Campbell Corporation is now frozen.”