The Mistress Came to Kill Me on Our Anniversary Night

I was five months pregnant when my husband, James Fletcher, allowed his mistress to invade our lives—on the very night of our wedding anniversary. But she didn’t just come to flaunt her presence. She came to take my life.

Pregnant and vulnerable, I confronted her, desperately clinging to my dignity. But the fight ended with me tumbling down the staircase, my swollen belly crashing against the cold, hard ground. Blood seeped across the floor, vivid and unrelenting.

James only arrived after hearing about his precious mistress’ ordeal. He stood there, staring at the pool of blood, at my broken body. But instead of helping me, he rushed to her side. She had nothing but a few superficial scratches, yet he swept her off to the hospital like she was the one dying.

By the time he returned, my child was gone. The doctors barely managed to save me. And what did James do? He struck me in front of everyone, his words sharper than the sting of his hand.

"Lisa only wanted to bring you a Christmas gift, and you attacked her out of nowhere! You shameless witch!"

“She didn’t force her way in! What nonsense! I gave her the house key ages ago. You just can’t stand that she’s prettier and kinder than you!"

“You didn’t just hurt her. You killed my child! You vile, despicable woman. Why couldn’t it have been you instead?”

Lisa stood beside him, pretending to comfort him while flashing me a smug, victorious smirk.

James’s vicious tirade didn’t stop there. He dragged my name onto the internet, painting me as a monster.

I sat at the dining table, staring at the elaborate anniversary dinner I had prepared for James Fletcher.

Since I became pregnant, he hadn’t come home much, always saying work kept him busy, often requiring him to travel.

This time, he told me in advance that he would celebrate our anniversary with me. Overjoyed, I pushed through the discomfort of being five months pregnant to cook him a feast.

When I heard the doorbell, I thought James had returned. I rushed to open the door, only to find Lisa Smith standing there, holding a kitchen knife.

She lunged at me with the knife.

Panicked, I ran down the hallway, banging on neighbors’ doors for help. I tried to escape through the emergency stairwell, but Lisa pushed me down the stairs.

The neighbors, hearing the commotion, rushed out to see what had happened. I lay on the staircase landing, wracked with pain, blood pooling beneath me.

Meanwhile, Lisa had already slashed her own arm with the knife, pretending I had attacked her. Tears streamed down her face as she feigned innocence.

“Mrs. Fletcher, I only came to deliver your anniversary cake. Why did you attack me with a knife?”

She had tossed the knife into my blood, and the neighbors, seeing it, immediately assumed I was the aggressor. They began whispering and pointing at me.

“How could she be so cruel? Attacking someone with a knife out of nowhere!”

“Exactly! It’s Christmas, and the poor girl just wanted to surprise her. What a terrible thing to do!”

“Look at her lying there, not moving. She’s probably faking it to extort money from the poor girl!”

I watched as some of them pulled out their phones to record, sharing the scene online to expose me. Trembling with pain, I didn’t say a word to defend myself.

It was then that James finally arrived. The moment Lisa saw him, her tears flowed even harder.

“James, look! I don’t know what I did wrong, but she suddenly attacked me with a knife.”

Seeing the small cut on Lisa’s hand, James immediately walked over and slapped me hard across the face.

"Since tonight is our wedding anniversary, I didn’t want you to feel lonely while waiting for me, so I asked Lisa to keep you company. And what did you do? You attacked her with a knife! Is it because you’re jealous of her—angry that she’s more talented and successful than you?"

As soon as James said this, the neighbors were convinced I had harbored resentment all along and had planned to harm Lisa. The internet was flooded with hateful comments, while Lisa continued crying and twisting the truth.

“I saw that she was struggling with her pregnancy, so I even helped her prepare dinner,” she sobbed. “But after I worked so hard to finish the meal, she suddenly came at me with a knife and hurt me…”

I didn’t even have the strength to explain. The pain in my abdomen felt like someone had punched me repeatedly.

Clinging to James’ leg, I begged him to take me to the hospital, but he kicked me aside.

“Stop acting! Do you think I’m entertained by your endless performances? You’d better apologize to her right now, or you’ll regret it!”

With that, James scooped Lisa into his arms and rushed her to the hospital, leaving me behind in agony. Writhing in pain, I pleaded with the neighbors to call for an ambulance.

“Please, help me… Save my baby…”

But they believed James’ words and thought I was putting on a show to gain sympathy. They spat at me in disgust.

“Quit acting! Your husband’s gone! Who are you trying to fool now?”

“Probably trying to attract some other man’s attention. What a disgraceful woman!”