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Wait, I'm the Other Woman? Novel Cover

Wait, I'm the Other Woman?

Following a rigorous reunion with her drill instructor husband, Vincent Bennett, the protagonist relaxes by scrolling through a viral local thread. A woman claims her boyfriend is cheating and invites the internet to witness the confrontation. As the comments escalate with violent threats against the unknown mistress, the poster finally shares the exact location. To her horror, the address is Unit 1203, Jarmond Heights—her very own home. She suddenly realizes she might be the unsuspecting target of this mystery story.
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Chapter 3

The call had gone through, yet as soon as the word rolled off my tongue, Vincent snapped. He snatched my phone and hurled it violently against the floor. "Helena, have you lost your mind? Since when do you have a father?"

Vincent didn't know that my father was Kai Sutton, a notorious figure in Jovelle's underworld.

When my mother was still alive, she never allowed me to contact him. She'd merely told me he was a man who lived by the blade and that he was no good.

However, on the day of my mother's funeral, that man in the black overcoat had stood outside the memorial hall and smoked through the entire night. At dawn, he slipped me a business card and said, "Kid, if you're ever in trouble, call this number."

I had kept his card for five years and had never dialed it once because back then, I thought having Vincent was enough. I never imagined that the first time I would ever call my father would be because Vincent had cheated on me.

Looking at my shattered phone on the floor, I noticed the screen had already turned dark. I had no idea how much the person on the other end had heard.

"Whether or not I have a father is none of your business! Vincent, take your mistress and get the hell out of my house right now!"

"Mistress?" Elowen was the first to react. "Who are you calling a mistress?"

She screamed and lunged at me, her nails aiming straight for my face. "You bitch, you're the damn mistress!"

Her classmates surged forward like a pack of madmen. Someone yanked my hair, while others shoved me hard by the shoulders.

In a heartbeat, I was pinned down on the coffee table. The back of my head struck the corner of the table, and my vision went black for a moment.

Warm blood trickled down from my temple, leaving a gruesome trail across my face. My phone was completely crushed under someone's foot, and the call screen went dark.

"Nice hit! That's exactly what a homewrecker deserves!"

"Go, girls! Don't let this parasite get away!"

Vincent merely stood there. His eyes even betrayed a hint of impatience, as if he was saying, "This wouldn't have happened if you had just listened to me."

Pinned to the ground with my face drenched in blood, listening to the crowd viciously branding me a mistress while seven or eight cameras were shoved in my face, I abruptly burst into laughter. Everyone froze for a split second.

The very next second, I spat out, "I'm the homewrecker? Very well!"

I braced myself against the coffee table and rose to my feet, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. "In that case, I'll show you who the real homewrecker is!" With that, I gathered my strength and sprinted toward the bedroom.

In front of the safe, the combination lock popped open with a soft click. Inside, bankbooks from the past five years were neatly stacked; I hadn't touched a single cent.

My fingers skimmed past everything and pulled out two pristine white marriage certificates from the very bottom. On the day we registered our marriage five years ago, Vincent had said with a smile, "Hela, you're it for me. For life."

I was it for him. I closed my eyes for a moment before walking out of the bedroom.

In the living room, Elowen was still playing the victim for the cameras. Vincent frowned when he noticed me emerge empty-handed, growling, "That's enough, Helena! Hurry up and apologize to my girlfriend and get these people to leave. Don't make me lose my temper!"

The nerve of him. Even now, he still thought I was being unreasonable. He was still certain I wouldn't dare escalate things, certain that I couldn't survive without him, and certain that I—with no family to back me, no job, and no way out—would always have no choice but to obey him.

Step by step, I closed in on Elowen, who tilted her chin up provocatively, waiting for my apology, but I didn't give her one. Instead, I hurled the two marriage certificates into that pure, innocent-looking face of hers.

The pristine white sheets of paper landed on the coffee table. "Here, take a good look! Which one of us is the homewrecker?"

The marriage certificates lay open beneath the flashing lights and the livestream. In an instant, the official seals and the registration date from five years ago were visible to the audience. The camera auto-focused, magnifying every single word until it filled the screen.

The whole world went silent for three seconds. Then, it exploded.

"Holy crap... Marriage certificates?"

"They registered five years ago? Then, who the hell is the homewrecker here?"

"Hold on, are my eyes playing tricks on me? Vincent's married? Didn't he say he was single?"

Elowen's face flushed crimson before all the color drained from it. She stumbled backward, knocking over the chair behind her. "That's impossible... This is photoshopped! You forged this!"

"Check with the courthouse yourself." I wiped the blood from my forehead. My voice was so calm it sounded as though I were telling someone else's story. "Go find out who's been pestering whom, and who the shameless mistress actually is!"

Vincent completely lost it. His reputation, his career, and the halo of being a chief instructor—it was all gone.

Like a madman, he lunged at the cameras, attempting to snatch their phones away, only to be shoved away by the netizens who were watching the drama unfold. Hence, he turned around to shoot daggers at me.

His gaze was filled with nothing but manic hatred as he raised his hand high to strike me. "Helena, you're hell-bent on ruining me, aren't you?"

His hand came slicing down with a sharp rush of wind, but I didn't flinch or even close my eyes. I just stared straight at him.

However, in the very next second, a loud roar erupted outside the window as a helicopter swept in, instantly blocking the entire floor-to-ceiling window of the living room. More than a dozen black-clad bodyguards filed in through the door, and in the midst of them, a middle-aged man in a black suit strode inside.

He was a picture of pure murderous intent; the ruthless look in his eyes made it seem as if he wanted to tear everyone present limb from limb. "Vincent Bennett, I dare you to lay a hand on my daughter!"

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