My Wife Married Our Adopted Child, I Found My Own Hapiness

At that moment, I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. I didn't know when they got together. I had no idea how I'd raised such an ungrateful child.

In the years I'd cared for him, I'd been tireless. When he said he missed home and couldn't sleep, I stayed with him night after night. When he said he was bullied at school, I stood up for him. He said Rachel seemed to dislike him, so I encouraged Rachel to spend more time with him. Unexpectedly, the kind of liking he spoke of was sexual intimacy.

I was so angry that I fainted. My child's condition dropped rapidly without my care. During my hospitalization, Thomas kept sending provocative messages.

He sent me videos of the two of them together. He sent me Rachel's sweet words of love and vows. He sent me a divorce agreement that Rachel had already prepared. When I saw that thick stack of videotapes, I vomited for three days and three nights.

I just couldn't connect this heartless bastard in front of me with the timid little girl I first met. During that time, I almost cried my eyes out. Rachel never visited me once.

When I returned home from the hospital, I saw her directing people to move my belongings. In front of the enormous wedding photo, Rachel tightly gripped Thomas's hand.

"Steven, you didn’t understand, you'll never understand. Thomas is the rose I raised myself, my confidant, my soulmate. He's different from you. He's thoughtful, profound, someone I can discuss life with!" As she spoke, her gaze swept disdainfully over my designer clothes.

She coldly uttered, "Vulgar."

Those words shattered the last shred of my defenses. I didn't know how Thomas, who hadn't even finished high school, could discuss the length of life with her.

I only knew that back then, to be with Rachel, I gave almost everything. I almost broke with my family for Rachel. I drank myself into a hemorrhage countless times at the dinner table for Rachel. But they, just when I thought my suffering was over, dealt me ​​a fatal blow.

I remembered the traces they left all over the house. I remembered Thomas's parting words, "So what if you're rich and have everything in life? You don't know, do you? While you were working hard to earn money, Rachel was lying beneath me, moaning. From now on, this is my home. Your woman, everything you've worked so hard to earn, is mine."

My anger reached its peak. In a fit of rage, I set fire to the villa. The fire wasn't big and was quickly extinguished.

But Rachel filed a lawsuit against me for this crime. She gave me two choices: Divorce or go to jail. I also gave her two choices: Die or face complete disgrace.

She was a law professor who had lived a life of aloofness. What she couldn’t let go of most was her scholarly integrity. I could accept her leaving me because of incompatibility. But I couldn’t tolerate her using my money to support a gigolo.

We were arguing so badly that both of our parents came to mediate. When the elderly women, tears streaming down their faces, asked me why, I couldn’t even answer.

How could I begin? The child I raised had become a homewrecker. And my wife of many years, whom I’d loved for years, wanted a divorce for this bastard.