Three Years as Her Nanny My Husband's Mistress Was My Boss

A few minutes later, I got a text from Sebastian：“Business trip. Gone for a week.”

I set the phone down without replying, poured myself a cup of tea, and sat on the couch.

I waited for them.

The three of us were overdue for a meeting.

All together.

The front door opened.

Vincent ran to Anne the second she stepped inside, throwing himself into her arms.

He pointed at me and said：“Mom, there's a homewrecker in our house.”

Anne hugged him, cooing：“A homewrecker? What are you talking about?”

Vincent pointed at me again：“Her! She's the homewrecker. She has pictures of Dad on her phone.”

Anne glanced at me, and her expression dropped instantly.

She tore into me without hesitation：“Do you not understand English? Didn't I tell you to leave early? What are you still doing here?”

“What, are you some kind of beggar? You won't budge unless someone throws you a few coins?”

I stayed in my seat and said coldly：“I'm waiting for my husband.”

Anne snapped：“You're out of your mind. Go wait for your husband at your own house.”

I kept my voice flat：“He doesn't come to my house. But he comes here.”

Anne's face stiffened.

Something shifted behind her eyes, and a smug little smile crept across her lips.

In that instant, I knew. She knew I was Sebastian's wife.

They'd let me work here on purpose. Let me be ordered around, talked down to, treated like a servant. All of it was deliberate humiliation.

Anne walked toward me, her voice dripping with mockery：“What's the point of waiting here? Even if he shows up, do you really think you can take him home?”

“A woman who isn't loved has no business sitting here waiting.”

That was when the front door opened again.

Sebastian walked in.

He was carrying a huge bouquet of roses and a cake box in his other hand.

Something bitter twisted in my chest.

In all the years we'd been married, Sebastian had never bought me a single flower. Never once planned anything for my birthday.

The few times I'd brought it up, he'd lecture me：“Vivian, we're not exactly rolling in money. What do we need flowers and cake for?”

“Don't let social media brainwash you. We need to save where we can. Living within our means is what matters. Stop daydreaming.”

Once, after one of his long “business trips,” I'd felt bad about how hard he was working and bought a cake.

Sebastian lost it. He threw the cake on the floor.

He said he'd rather go without than let me develop a habit of wasting money.

I cried for a long time that night.

It was our wedding anniversary. Sebastian had already forgotten.

Every rule he'd set for me didn't exist in this other home.

Our eyes met, and the color drained from Sebastian's face.

He dropped his gaze, fumbling, unable to look at me.

Anne strolled over with a grin and looped her arm through his：“Honey, this nanny won't leave. What should we do about her?”

Sebastian kept his head down and said nothing.

Anne shrugged：“Fine, let her stay then. She can serve our little family of three. Go make us dinner.”

When I didn't move, Anne's voice turned vicious：“Vivian, have you no shame? You'd rather stay here and play maid for us than walk out that door?”

I said coldly：“I'm not a maid.”

Anne sneered：“Then what are you? Every day you're here picking up after us, getting screamed at, too afraid to say a word back.”

“Actually, you're right. You're not a maid. Maids get paid. You've been doing this for free.”

“That thirty dollars a month I paid you? You handed every cent of it to Sebastian, didn't you?”