Ruthless Husband Poisoned Me & Our Daughter, but Killed by His Mistress’ Son

The day before the final, I went to the program office to officially withdraw Sophie from the competition. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, so I planned to get in and out as quickly as possible.

But as I walked past one of the rooms, I heard two familiar voices through the slightly open door. Harris. And Wilma.

"Harris, Karlie liked all my posts," Wilma said, her voice tight with worry. "Do you think she suspects something?"

"You’re overthinking it," Harris said, his tone laced with arrogance. "What could she possibly figure out? She’s got enough problems of her own to deal with."

"But—"

"Enough," he cut her off. "I told you, I’ve got this under control. For you and Yulian, I’d do anything. I’ll never let anything happen to you."

His voice was gentle. Warm. Reassuring. I felt sick.

That soft, loving tone, one I had once hoped to hear from him, was meant for Wilma and her son. I gritted my teeth, my hands balling into fists.

And just like that, memories I had buried came flooding back.

The day Sophie was born, Harris had barely reacted. No excitement, no pride, just a distant, unreadable expression. And if I looked hard enough, maybe even… disappointment.

Back then, I convinced myself he was just tired. That work had drained him. Now I knew the truth. He had always wanted a son. And Wilma had given him one.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to leave, but before I could slip away, a voice called out to me. "Karlie?"

I stiffened. The program director was walking past. And just like that, the moment was shattered. I wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

Harris must have heard too because, in the next second, the door creaked open and he and Wilma stepped out.

The second his eyes landed on me, I saw it. A flicker of panic. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same fake, easygoing smile he always used when he was covering something up.

"When did you get here?" he asked, his tone light, too casual.

I forced myself to stay calm. "I just finished Sophie’s withdrawal paperwork. I was about to leave when I ran into the director."

Harris’s shoulders relaxed slightly. "Oh. I was just talking to the director about Sophie too. And I ran into Yulian’s mom, so we stopped to chat for a bit."

Wilma smiled, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and reached into her bag.

"Karlie," she said, pulling out three tickets, "I know Sophie can’t compete, but she and Yulian are such good friends. You should bring her to watch the finals. Cheer for Yulian."

I stared at the tickets, my chest tightening. She knew how much this competition meant to Sophie. How much it hurt just to think about it. And yet, she still had the audacity to act like she was being thoughtful.

Before I could say a word, Harris reached out, plucked the tickets from her hand, and grinned. "That’s a great idea," he said smoothly. "We’ll definitely be there."

"Okay, Sophie must want to watch Yulian's competition. If Yulian wins, Sophie will be happy too," Harris added, smiling like he actually believed his own nonsense.

Wilma nodded along, acting all sweet and considerate.

Watching them put on this little show together made my stomach turn. But I forced myself to stay calm, swallowed the disgust rising in my throat, and took the tickets with a quiet, "Thanks."

That was it. That was the moment I made up my mind. The finals? Fine. Let’s see how things play out.

***

When I got home, the air in the house felt heavy. Too quiet. I walked down the hall and gently pushed open Sophie’s door.

She was curled up in the chair by the window, staring outside. Her back looked so small, so frail—like a dry leaf barely clinging to its branch, just waiting to be carried away by the wind.

My heart ached at the sight. I stepped forward and set the tickets down in front of her. The moment her eyes landed on them, her expression shifted. Dark. Cold.

She turned to me, her gaze sharp with resentment. "Are you doing this on purpose?" Her voice was tight, almost shaking.

"You know how I feel when I hear the word competition. You know it feels like someone is driving a knife through me. And yet, here you are, throwing it in my face? Do you enjoy seeing me like this? Does it make you happy that I can’t stand on that stage anymore?"

I barely had time to process her words before the door behind me swung open. Harris. Of course.

He walked straight to Sophie, immediately shifting into his caring, protective father act. He brushed her hair back gently, speaking in that soft, soothing voice he saved just for her.

Then he turned to me. His expression darkened, full of blame.

"Do you not see what she’s going through?" he snapped. "You thought taking her to watch Yulian compete was a good idea? Seriously? You’re just making things worse for her!"

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself not to laugh at the sheer hypocrisy of it all. Right. Because I was the problem here.