On My Son Birthday, My Husband Cheated With My Sister

Before I could walk out the door, Karyn interrupted, her voice dripping with false innocence, “Ghislaine must be angry because you did not come to Landon’s birthday, Dylan. After all, you had to accompany me to my friend’s wedding.”

Her voice had that irresistible charm, the kind that made men weak.

Dylan, always quick to soothe her, responded in his usual calm tone, “Do not worry, Karyn. I know my priorities. We can throw another birthday party later, but a wedding? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event.”

Another birthday party? My mind raced with fury. Landon would never have another birthday; his life stopped at five years old.

Karyn, completely unfazed, added, “But you promised to come, Dylan. Now Landon must dislike me even more. I’m afraid he will bite me again like before.” She spoke with no remorse, no recognition of the pain she had caused.

She was as if toying with that, like Landon’s life was just a game.

The last time Landon bit her was when he was two. A harmless act by a child who did not know better. But even then, I was certain he would not have done it without reason.

Before Dylan could say another word, I stormed forward, my hand flying across Karyn’s face.

The slap echoed through the room, a release of all the rage I had suppressed for years. It was the first time I’d ever raised a hand to her too.

Since then, I was always trying to keep the peace, always bending under the weight of family expectations. Karyn was the favorite after all.

But her mocking was too far.

What I did not expect, Dylan immediately pulled Karyn behind him, his eyes narrowing as he glared at me. “What the hell are you doing? She’s your sister!” he yelled.

Ignoring his anger, I fixed my gaze on Karyn. I said, my voice low and seething, “Watch your tongue. It does not matter that we share blood. You have no right to speak about my son like that.”

Karyn, recovering quickly, stepped forward and slapped me twice, her sharp nails raking across my skin. Her slap felt familiar, the same way our mother used to hit me whenever Karyn cried as a child.

Growing up, I was always the one who had to study harder, achieve more. Meanwhile Karyn, the beauty, was the star of the family.

While I was working for scholarships, she was being signed to modeling agencies. Our mother adored her, constantly praising her looks while reminding me I should have to use my brain if I wanted any chance at success.

I remember one night, our mother sneered at me, “If it were not for your brains, Ghislaine, you would not be anything. Try harder than Karyn, or you will always be in her shadow.”

It was not until I met Dylan and brought him into the family that things changed. Suddenly, I was useful.

The day I introduced him, my parents started treating me equally. They needed me because of him, but Karyn never stopped being the favorite.

I never imagined that the sister who always got what she wanted would go after the one thing that was mine. Karyn had always been jealous, even when she had her own boyfriend.

She used to tease Dylan, hanging onto him, pressing herself against him like a spoiled child, asking for favors.

“If the Hoover family sponsors me, my career will skyrocket,” she would say, batting her lashes. “After you marry Ghislaine, you will sponsor me, won’t you?”

She would cling to his arm, her body close, her voice sweet. “I will appreciate it so much, Dylan. Maybe I can even help promote the Hoover business.”

Dylan, with his stupid blush, would stammer, “Sure, Karyn.”

The memory only fueled my anger.

Ignoring the stinging pain on my face, I grabbed Karyn’s hair and yanked her down to my level.

“How dare you,” I spat, pulling harder.

Karyn shrieked and yanked at my hair in return, her nails digging into my scalp. “How dare you hurt me!” she screamed.

“You started it,” I hissed back.

Dylan finally stepped between us, prying my fingers from her hair. “Stop it! Ghislaine, I know you have always been jealous of Karyn, but this is not the way.”

His words hit me like a punch. Jealous? Of her?

I laughed bitterly; my voice filled with venom. “Jealous? Is that what you think? Maybe we should end this right now. What’s left, anyway?”

Dylan sneered, “You want a divorce? Fine. Go ahead. It’s you who needs me, after all. Leave.”

“That’s exactly what I was doing.” I turned to grab my suitcases; my heart numb.

But as I reached for the one filled with Landon’s belongings, Dylan grabbed it from my hand.

“This one stays. Landon is mine,” he said coldly.

Dylan's voice was sharp and dismissive when he ordered the butler, "Go pick up Landon from school, and do not let him see Ghislaine again."

The butler hesitated, a look of confusion clouding his face. "Sir, your son, Landon Hoover… he passed away the day after his 5th birthday,"