Wait, I'm the Other Woman?

After my drill instructor husband, Vincent Bennett, returns home from a business trip and gives me an intense "punishment session," I collapse onto the bed and start scrolling through my phone.

That is when I come across a trending local post.

"My boyfriend is cheating on me, and I am about to catch him in the act! Anyone in this city wants to come with me and catch him with his mistress?"

The comments below are full of people egging her on.

"Where? Hurry and drop the address! I am bringing my toilet plunger to beat that scumbag!"

"Kitchen knife ready. Miss, I am with you. We'll chop up that homewrecker first!"

I am instantly excited. If I were not so exhausted, I would want to join the drama too.

Just as I am thinking that, the poster uploads the address.

I tap it open.

In the next moment, I freeze.

Unit 1203 of Building C, Jarmond Heights.

Isn't that my address?

In a heartbeat, it felt as though every drop of blood in my body had run cold.

Then, with a soft click, the bathroom door was pushed open. Vincent Bennett walked out, wrapped in a towel, his abs still bearing the faint red marks I had clawed at him in the heat of the moment earlier.

Holding a glass of warm water, he leaned over and held it to my lips. "Here, have some water to soothe your throat."

At that moment, I looked into his deep, unreadable eyes, remembering how I had spent five years losing myself in the affection those eyes once carried.

Three years ago, in order to support his career as an instructor, I'd willingly resigned from my position as an editor at a publishing house. I'd become a homemaker, looking after his parents and managing everything at our home.

During our five years of marriage, we were often apart more than we were together because of his role as a military instructor at the university. He had always told me that absence made the heart grow fonder, so every time we saw each other again, sparks seemed to fly instantly.

Consequently, I had always believed that despite the distance, we were the most loving couple in the world. However, at that moment, as I took in the lingering tenderness in his eyes and compared it to the viral post on my phone screen titled "I'm rallying people to stab his mistress to death," my stomach abruptly churned violently.

"Vincent…" I tried my best to keep my trembling fingers still as I forced out, "During this training session… did you meet any particularly special female students?"

Vincent's hand froze midair while wiping a water droplet from the corner of my lips. His gaze flickered almost imperceptibly as he responded, "They're just a bunch of immature kids. None of them could ever compare to you, honey."

Unfortunately for him, I could tell he was lying.

To me, cheating was unforgivable. If he had really cheated on me, I would rather throw these five years of devotion away than stay in this marriage for even a single second longer.

Before I could gather my thoughts, a series of violent, thunderous bangs erupted against the front door, accompanied by a young woman's sharp, aggrieved wailing. "Get your ass out here, Vincent! I know that old hag is inside! Girls, the homewrecker is inside!"

The blood drained from his face in an instant. Instinctively, he pinned me down as I was about to rise to my feet. "Hela, go hide in the bedroom. Lock the door and, no matter what, don't come out!"

I didn't budge. I merely looked at him coldly.

He froze for a second, as if he had never expected me to defy him. Over the last five years, he'd gotten used to making decisions for me in that domineering tone, and I'd never gone against him.

"Go and answer the door," I ordered.

Vincent stiffened. "Do as you're told, Helena!" Realizing I wouldn't budge, his tone sharpened as he tried to persuade me again.

"If you won't answer it, I will!" I pushed his hands away and made a move to get out of bed to head for the door. Yet, he abruptly seized me, attempting to forcefully shove me into the bathroom.

I tried to break free from his hold, but the difference in strength between us was overwhelming. As he was about to force me inside, the front door was kicked open from the outside.

The very next second, a young woman in a white dress stormed in with several netizens, who were holding up their phones and livestreaming everything. The young woman was the original poster herself, a third-year medical student named Elowen Jensen.

The moment she spotted me, who was struggling in Vincent's arms, she burst into tears. Pointing at me, she bellowed, "Girls, that's her! That's the old hag who seduced my boyfriend! Vince told me he doesn't love her at all; she's the one who's clinging to him and refusing to divorce him!"

Her classmates and the netizens behind her immediately rushed forward to corner me. Vincent's next move sent me plunging straight into the abyss.

He had the audacity to push me away and drew the weeping Elowen into his arms. Then, he spun around and snarled at me, "Go back inside, Helena! Don't frighten Ellie!"

Before I could react, countless phone cameras were thrust into my face, while the livestream chat was rife with vicious insults, calling me a shameless slut and an old hag. Drinking in the utterly absurd scene before me, I was so exasperated I let out a derisive chuckle.

To Vincent's disbelief, I didn't retreat into the bedroom like he wanted. Instead, I raised my hand and slapped both him and Elowen hard across the face.

"You want me to hide? Vincent Bennett, have you forgotten whose name is on the deed to this house?"