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My Husband was the Best Villain in our Marriage Novel Cover

My Husband was the Best Villain in our Marriage

Mandy Eisenman, a celebrated elite actress, believed her five-year romance with entertainment tycoon Erving Pollock was indestructible. He had risked his life for her and celebrated her greatest triumphs. However, everything changes when Anya Heffernan, a painter who once saved Erving, enters their lives. Erving begins neglecting Mandy, gifting her personal hand-knit items to Anya and defending her blunders. The ultimate betrayal strikes when Anya auctions a painting of a nude actress.
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Chapter 1

My name is Mandy Eisenman—the cold, untouchable top actress everyone envies on screen.

I was also the woman loved and protected for five years by Erving Pollock, the heir who owned half the resources of New York’s entertainment industry.

To win my heart, he once stood in the pouring rain for hours, nearly losing his life shielding me from an obsessed fan’s attack.

When I won Best Actress, he was in the audience with reddened eyes, clapping the hardest, looking even more emotional than I was.

I thought that kind of love would last forever. But then Anya Heffernan came into the picture.

She was a painter who got hit by a car saving Erving. And just like that, she became the third party in our relationship.

He started skipping the candlelit dinners I planned just so he could accompany her to the movies.

He gave her the scarf I had stayed up all night knitting, just because she said she was cold.

Even when she spilled coffee on my haute couture dress, he rushed to comfort her, leaving me behind.

Whenever I felt wronged and complained, he would always bring up that car accident, making me feel like I was overreacting.

One day, headlines blew up the entire internet.

[Painter Anya Heffernan’s latest piece, inspired by a mysterious nude actress, stuns the auction world!]

Only then did the fragile calm I had been clinging to completely shatter.

…

The woman in the painting was half-lying on the bed, her skin fair as snow, completely exposed. Her hair hid her face, but the familiar curves of her body—and the mole on her shoulder and neck that only I have—all silently declared to the world that the figure in the painting was me.

The only person who could have gotten hold of my nude photos and let Anya use my body for attention was Erving.

My phone shook uncontrollably in my hand. In just one hour, the hashtag [#MandyNudePortraitModel] had skyrocketed to the top of the trending list. The comments poured in like a tidal wave, full of crude, vulgar speculation.

Those same people who once praised my elegance were now digging through my private life with filthy words.

My face went pale. Pain twisted my chest until it felt impossible to breathe. I stumbled out of the house and drove straight to Erving’s company.

When I pushed open the office door, Anya was sitting on the couch, pouting proudly.

“Erving, did you see it? My painting finally went viral!”

Erving stroked her hair affectionately. “That’s because you’re a talented painter.”

He didn’t even mention that she’d used my body as her subject. When he noticed me, he barely looked up. “What are you doing here? It’s cold outside. Wear something warm.”

“That painting,” I said, my voice shaking, each word forced out through clenched teeth. “Did you tell her to paint it?”

He frowned, stubbed out his cigarette, and rose as if to pull me into his arms. But I shoved him away with all my strength.

Annoyance flickered across his face before he masked it with his usual soothing tone. “Mandy, don’t make a scene. Anya’s dream has always been to become a great artist, but no one paid attention to her work. I just helped her a little.”

“Helped her?” I laughed, but my tears spilled over before I could stop them. “You call that help? Using my body? Erving, what do you think I am—a prop for you to flaunt whenever you guys want?”

“You’re overreacting.” He frowned even more. “Your face isn’t in the painting. No one can prove it’s you. The hype will die down in a few days. Anya stayed up nights working on that painting. Can’t you just show a little understanding?”

That sentence was like a knife, piercing my heart violently.

I looked at the man in front of me and remembered how he had chased me five years ago.

Back then, his eyes were full of me. But now, his indifference and cruelty were just as real.

I wiped my tears and made my decision. “Erving, we’re getting a divorce.”

His face darkened instantly. The air around him seemed to thicken. He stepped forward and gripped my wrist so hard I thought he might break my bones.

“Divorce? Mandy, don’t forget—your mom is still staying in the hospital under my name. The doctors, the equipment, everything there—you owe that to me. If you leave, her treatment—”

“Erving!”

I widened my eyes in terror, unable to believe he would threaten me with my mom!

Her heart condition had always been my weakness. For years, I had relied entirely on his resources for her treatment. I never imagined that dependence would become the very chain he would use to control me.

His grip tightened. His gaze was dark and obsessive. “Behave, Mandy. Don’t push me.”

A cold dread washed over me. I felt myself falling into a bottomless pit, realizing that no matter how I struggled, I was already trapped in his web.

At that moment of my despair, my phone vibrated violently.

“Ma’am! Something’s wrong! Your mother just had a heart attack. She’s in critical condition!”

My mind went blank. “I’m coming! Tell the doctors to save her! Do whatever it takes!”

Erving frowned and started to follow me out. Just as he was about to tell the driver to prepare the car, Anya collapsed into his arms, crying, “Erving, I feel dizzy… It must be the aftereffects from the car accident…”

He immediately scooped her up. “Get a doctor! I’m taking Anya to the hospital!”

When I arrived alone at my mom’s hospital room, a nurse shook her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. All the doctors were called away by Sir Erving to attend to Ma’am Anya. Your mother… missed the critical treatment window.”

My knees buckled. I fell to the floor, staring blankly toward the doorway.

There, Erving was helping Anya out of a room, murmuring, “Good thing it was just low blood sugar.”

Not a single trace of concern for my mother showed on his face, only care and tenderness for his other woman.

At that moment, I swore, the last spark of love I had for him died completely.

That night, back at the villa, I opened an old, unread email.

It was from my former university mentor, a renowned Hollywood director. He invited me to fly to London in ten days to play the lead in his new film and stay there to continue my career.

I had hesitated before because of Erving. Now, I didn’t hesitate at all. With certainty, I accepted the invitation.

In ten days, I would announce my retirement from the industry and leave behind this city that had once made me love so deeply and hurt me more than I ever thought possible.

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