The Robot Mistress Exposing My Cheating Husband

"You should be grateful she treats you well."

Caroline Dickerson stood up, her expression a mask of concern. "Uncle, Auntie, please don't fight because of me. I'll work harder to change. I promise."

My mother-in-law sneered, gesturing at the girl. "Look at that. What a good kid. Unlike you—so petty."

Petty? The word lodged in my throat like a fishbone.

Just then, the front door opened. Alex walked in, pausing as the heavy atmosphere hit him. He loosened his tie, his gaze darting between us. "At it again?"

Before I could speak, my mother-in-law launched her offensive.

"Some people are just too thin-skinned. They can't handle a little criticism." She cast a doting look at Caroline. "Unlike Caroline here. She knows when she's wrong, she fixes it, and she knows how to make us happy."

Alex turned to me, his brow furrowed. "Are you getting jealous of Caroline again?"

A bitter laugh escaped me. Three days. Three days, and this house had transformed into a battlefield where I was the only casualty.

"Jealous?" I asked, my voice tight. "Of what? She's just a—"

"If you're not jealous," Alex cut in, "then why can't you cut her some slack?"

I stared at him, stunned. I never imagined that bringing Caroline into our home would dismantle my marriage so thoroughly.

All my years of effort, of sacrifice, felt like a punchline to a joke I didn't understand. They didn't need a wife or a daughter-in-law. They needed a sycophant. A sweet-talking doll who would stroke their egos.

My flaws were magnified under a microscope, while Caroline's glitches were ignored. I had become optional. Dispensable.

When I didn't answer, Alex scoffed, dismissing my silence as guilt. He tossed his overcoat onto the sofa and turned to Caroline.

"Vivian's just like that. Don't mind her."

Caroline shook her head, her eyes wide and glistening. "No, Alex. Vivian is right. I was wrong."

A masterclass in manipulation. One sentence, delivered with perfect, rehearsed innocence.

My mother-in-law ate it up. "What a sensible child. If only she were my daughter-in-law."

I stood frozen, staring at the woman I had cooked and cleaned for. I had been married to Alex for five years. Our life had been stable. Boring, perhaps, but stable.

I didn't expect a single stranger to shatter it all.

My mother-in-law shot me a sideways glance, her lip curling. "Unlike some people. Married five years and still no heir. Just a dead end."

I swallowed the defense rising in my throat. Useless. The medical reports were clear—the fertility issues were ninety percent on Alex's side. But in this house, biology bowed to ego. It was always my fault.

I pulled out a chair to sit at the dining table.

"If I were you," my mother-in-law muttered, picking at her nails, "I'd be too ashamed to eat."

I laughed then, a cold, sharp sound. "I cooked every dish on this table. Why shouldn't I eat?" I glared at her. "You sat on the couch watching TV while I slaved away in the kitchen. Where do you get the nerve to lecture me?"

My mother-in-law's eyes bulged. She slammed her hand on the table. "You... what did you just say to me?"

"We are your elders! Is this how you show respect?" she screeched. "We raised Alex with our own hands! Do we not deserve a little peace in our old age?"

I picked up my bowl, my grip tightening on the porcelain. "Sure. Then talk less. If you want me to work like a servant, stop pointing fingers."

Smack!

The sound cracked through the room like a whip.

My head snapped to the side. The bowl slipped from my fingers, shattering against the floor tiles.

Alex stood over me, his chest heaving, his hand still raised. He pointed a trembling finger at my face.

"Have you said enough? Apologize to Mom and Dad! Apologize to Caroline! Now!"

I touched my burning cheek, looking up at him calmly.

In five years, he had never raised a hand against me. Not once. But today, for them—for her—he struck me.

Seeing my silence, Alex roared, "Are you deaf? Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "And?"

I met his gaze, refusing to blink, refusing to let him see me cry. "What exactly did I do wrong?"

"You still don't get it, do you?"

Alex sneered. With a sudden, violent motion, he swept his arm across the table.

Plates crashed. Soup splattered across the walls. Glass shards skittered across the floor.

The dinner I had spent over an hour preparing after a full day of work lay in ruins at my feet. Before I could take a single bite, he had destroyed it all.