The Double Life of My Billionaire Husband

"What the fuck?" Lucas shouted, his fury evident as he turned to identify the source of the drenching liquid. Standing before him was Lucille, tightly gripping the nearly empty thermos, her teeth gritted in defiance.

Regret flickered through Lucille's mind momentarily, realizing she had taken the time to cool the soup before packing it in the thermos. The scalding heat would have delivered a more fitting punishment, a physical representation of her pain. Nevertheless, she locked eyes with Lucas, his handsome face still captivating, even with his hair dripping soup. He gulped, his expression shifting from anger to indifference. Lucille felt uncomfortable as the man she believed was her husband seemed utterly unaffected. He looked at her as though she were a stranger, unperturbed even after being caught in the most compromising position.

Slowly rising from the bed, Lucas draped a towel around his waist. Meanwhile, his mistress shrank back, hiding her face beneath the duvet to shield her identity from Lucille's gaze. Clenching her fists, Lucille turned her attention back to Lucas, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She wanted to scream at him, to unleash her fury, but only one word escaped her lips.

"Why?" Lucille asked, her voice trembling with a mix of tears and disbelief.

Lucas's face twisted with a sickening mix of disgust and contempt. He locked eyes with Lucille and spoke with deliberate slowness, his words laced with cruelty.

"You're filthy, Lucy. Did you honestly believe I loved you?"

Lucille's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the pain coursing through her. It felt like a blade had pierced her, shattering her heart into countless pieces. The room grew suffocating, her breath shallow and her fingers numbed by the cold grip of despair. Her legs threatened to give way, but she steadied herself against the wall, refusing to succumb to the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume her.

As tears welled up in her eyes, Lucille fought back the urge to cry in front of them. She knew they would relish in her pain, using it as fuel for their mockery. She couldn't afford to give them that satisfaction. She faced them with a facade of relative calm, though her trembling fingers betrayed the inner turmoil she battled.

Biting down on her lip, Lucille used a hardened tone to shield herself from the emotional anguish that threatened to break her. "If you think I'm filthy, why did you marry me? Why did you make me believe that you loved me all these years?"

The words felt like shards scraping against her throat, threatening to choke her. Tears seared in her eyes, begging to be released, but she refused to let them fall. She yearned to appear whole, even while being shattered.

Throughout their years together, Lucille believed Lucas was the only man who truly loved her, accepting her past without judgment. He had pursued her relentlessly, promising to be the only one to cherish her. Though initially fearful, she was moved by his unwavering dedication and reciprocated his love with all her might.

When Lucas's erectile dysfunction had become a challenge, and the prospect of having children seemed distant, Lucille stood by his side, understanding and supporting him. She had tirelessly worked for his recovery, never suspecting that Lucas was nothing more than a deceitful liar. He had skillfully played the part, weaving an illusion of love while secretly despising her and seeing her as nothing but filth.

Lucas's face contorted with anger at her question. A scornful sneer twisted his lips as he venomously retorted, "Why? It's because Grandpa took a liking to you! I never wanted to marry you, but he threatened to disown me. If it weren't for you, I could openly carry on my affair and spare my lover from three years of suffering!"

His words struck Lucille like a dagger to the heart. The mockery in his voice reverberated in her ears, causing her to feel a wave of disbelief and betrayal. He looked at her with sheer contempt before snatching a document from his desk and flinging it in her face, his demand ringing with malice, "Sign it."

Stunned, Lucille stood frozen, her gaze falling upon the scattered papers on the floor. And there it was, the damning title that confirmed her worst fears.

[Divorce Agreement]

Had she not been leaning against the wall, she would have crumpled to the floor under the weight of the revelation. A sickening pit formed in her stomach, and her heart throbbed with pain as though it were being crushed in a vice. She had loved Lucas with all her being, dedicating herself to his happiness. Yet, all her efforts had been in vain because the husband she thought she knew was nothing more than an illusion.

Their cherished moments together now felt like a cruel mirage, transforming into a living nightmare from which she desperately longed to awaken. But no matter how hard she pinched herself, praying for it all to be a terrible dream, the painful reality before her eyes remained unchanged.

Lucille swallowed the lump in her throat as her gaze shifted to the bulging duvet on the bed. Her voice grew sharp as she questioned, "Who is she?"

Her words hung in the air, carrying the weight of judgment. The figure beneath the covers visibly trembled as if afraid of being exposed to Lucille's piercing scrutiny—a sense of foreboding washed over her.

"Rica?" Lucille called out, her tone perfunctory, and the hidden figure on the bed grew still. She turned her gaze to Lucas, whose surreal expression confirmed her haunting suspicion. At that moment, she knew her intuition had been right all along.

Taking a sharp breath, Lucille felt like salt had been rubbed into her wounds as if something were devouring her heart. The pain was so excruciating that her body felt numb. She stared at them blankly, watching Lucas sit on the bed's edge, gently coaxing his woman.

"Baby, we can't hide your identity forever. You can come out now since she has already figured it out."

The words struck Lucille like a dagger, each syllable carving deeper into her shattered heart. The revelation had unfolded before her, unraveling the web of deceit that had trapped her. She was left standing in the wreckage of her once-happy marriage, her world crumbling around her.

As Lucas pulled down the sheets, Lucille's gaze fell upon Larica's tear-streaked face. She looked pitiable, like a fragile rabbit, with her trembling figure and eyes shimmering with sadness.

"Lucy, I'm sorry... It's all my fault because I couldn't control my love for him. Please don't blame Lucas. I'll accept whatever you decide..." Larica apologized in a voice quivering with guilt and self-blame.

A profound stillness settled over Lucille as she regarded her identical twin. By just one minute, Larica, her younger sister, bore a striking resemblance to her. However, one feature set Larica apart—a vermilion mole nestled above her eyebrow. People often found it endearing, claiming it added to her innocent charm, captivating the hearts of those around her.

"Do you truly love Lucas, or have you been stealing from me out of habit?" Lucille asked, her tone laced with a hint of lightness.

Startled by Lucille's question, Larica stared at her with tears streaming down her cheeks like a waterfall.

"I'm deeply sorry, Lucy. I was wrong. You can beat me, scold me, do whatever you want as long as you forgive me..." she cried grievously, as though portraying Lucille as the bully.

Before Lucille could respond, Larica abruptly rose to her feet and closed the distance between them. She grasped Lucille's hand and slapped her face, leaving a bright red palm print and a few scratch marks. Unintentionally, Lucille's nails had grazed her in the process.

Yet, the incident didn't seem unintentional from every angle. As Lucas witnessed the scratches on Larica's cheeks, fury coursed through his veins. Without warning, he forcefully yanked Lucille's arm and threw her aside, his actions fueled by anger.

Hurriedly, he checked on Larica, and his face contorted with distress. "Baby, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Larica shook her head, though she fought back tears and offered a brave smile. "I'm fine. Please check on my sister and see if she's hurt," she responded, feigning vulnerability.

Lucas scrutinized her, perplexed by her selflessness, even in her own pain. His heart ached for this kind-hearted woman who remained strong for the sake of others.

'Lucille is a ruthless woman. Why does she still care so much about her?' he wondered, his fist clenched as he turned his gaze to Lucille with a menacing glare.

"It seems my impression of you all these years was completely wrong. I used to believe you were knowledgeable, virtuous, and gentle, but I was mistaken. You're a malicious woman, Lucy. Why are you blaming Rica when she's done nothing wrong? I was the one who fell in love with her first and pursued her relentlessly until she agreed to be with me. If you're angry, direct your anger at me. Rica is your sister, and you shouldn't harm her. But family ties don't matter to you, do they? Look at what you've done. Slapping her wasn't enough; you had to hurt her face?" he spat out his words sharply, without pause.

Lucille could only stare blankly at them as she struggled to rise from the floor. The force Lucas had pushed her had caused her head to collide with the doorknob, leaving a throbbing pain at the back of her skull. Despite the dizziness, she couldn't miss a single word Lucas uttered. An overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and hurt consumed her. Larica's feigned concern and Lucas's absurd accusations devastated her.

She wanted to lash out, to refute their claims, but then she noticed Larica silently mouthing the words, "You owe me."

Understanding her sister's meaning, Lucille swallowed her retort and resignedly lowered her head.

Meanwhile, Lucas misinterpreted her silence as an absence of words. A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he urged, "Hurry up and sign the divorce agreement. I don't want to lay eyes on you for another minute."