Pregnant Mistress Upstairs, Wife Out for Revenge Below

Julian and I even argued a little over the crib, though in the end, I gave in.

Now, that very crib, the one he had called extravagant and impractical, was sitting here in the home he had prepared for another woman and her child.

On the low cabinet by the crib sat a digital photo frame, the pictures looping one after another. One photo caught my eye. It was taken at a ski resort.

Julian was dressed in a bright yellow ski suit, holding Hazel from behind. She was wearing matching gear. Their heads leaned close together, their smiles wide and intimate, with snow-covered mountains stretching out behind them.

That was just a month ago.

He had told me his company sent him to Graceland for a week-long financial summit. He said he was so busy that he didn't even have time for video calls.

Yet I was foolish enough to worry about him, sending messages every day, reminding him to take care of himself and to eat on time.

So, this was his "financial summit"—holding another woman on a mountaintop.

Hazel's voice came from the living room. "Did you find it?"

I snapped back to my senses. My heart felt like it was being crushed in an invisible grip. The pain was so sharp that I could barely breathe. "No… I didn't."

I braced myself against the doorframe, trying to steady my body. "Maybe I was mistaken. It probably made its way back home already. I'm really sorry for disturbing you."

I hurried out of the nursery, almost fleeing, not daring to look back again.

"It's fine. By the way, what does your husband do?" Hazel chatted on, open and unguarded. "Mine works in financial investment too. Maybe they know each other."

I looked at her face, a little fuller from pregnancy. She still looked so simple and innocent. The irony hit me all at once. Slowly, I answered, "Him? Yeah, he's very good at investing too."

In fact, he was far too good at it. He used my money to invest in another home, another wife, and another child who was on the way.

I almost fled that apartment. When I got home, Julian was sitting on the couch watching financial news, completely at ease. He didn't even look up when I came in. "Did you take out the trash?"

"Yeah."

I walked over and sat down beside him. On the TV, the host was analyzing the latest movements in the stock market.

I leaned against his shoulder, just like I had done countless times before. He carried that familiar cedar-scented body wash—the one I knew too well. Now, the smell made my stomach turn.

"Julian?" I called out softly. "I saw that ivory crib again today. It's on discount. Maybe we should just get it. I really like it."

He finally looked away from the TV and turned to me. He reached out and smoothed my hair, his tone as indulgent as ever, yet firm in a way that left no room for argument.

"Don't be stubborn, Mo. We talked about this. We're not buying something impractical like that. Money should be spent where it actually matters."

I pressed, "Then, do you still remember 'Echoes of the Ocean'? The painting?"