When My Identity Gets Exposed, My Ex-husband Regrets!

I was married to Victor Preston for three years. My only wish was to warm his heart and make him fall in love with me.

When I drove to the airport, I encountered a collapsed bridge on the way. I was the only survivor.

When I was lying in the hospital with injuries all over my body and called him, each call ended the same way by the sound, "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later."

In my moment of greatest need, the man I had been married to for three years had not even reached out to me. Soon, a heavy wave of disappointment settled in my chest, with tears blurring my vision.

I staggered toward the hospital lobby on crutches, and when I saw Victor, my heart nearly stopped. He was carrying a woman tenderly into the obstetrician's office, his face filled with concern for her.

From his comforting words, I learned that the woman was pregnant with his child three months ago.

Three months ago, his itinerary report did show a week-long business trip.

Three years of marriage, and I had never seen this side of him.

That night, I packed my luggage, left the divorce agreement, and left calmly.

Ironically, after my true identity was revealed, Victor ended up begging me not to leave and asking for my forgiveness.

***

That morning, I should go to San Francisco for business trip, but I never imagined my journey would turn into a nightmare.

As I drove to the airport, the bridge that I crossed suddenly collapsed. I instinctively reached for my phone to call my husband, Victor Preston, but he didn’t answer any of my calls. The rest was a blur, and when I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital room.

When the bridge collapsed, I was the only survivor.

The whole nation was shaken by the news; Yet, in my moment of need, the man I had been married to for three years was nowhere to be found. Disappointment washed over me once again, even the bruises and injuries on my body was nothing compared to the ache in my heart at that moment.

After a long time, finally, my phone rang. I grabbed it, my heart racing with hope. But when I saw the caller ID, my heart sank.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice hoarse from the strain.

It was Victor’s mother. Her voice was thick with concern. “Earlene, you scared me to death! Are you alright? Is Victor with you?”

“He’s on a business trip in Los Angeles, Mom,” I replied.

“But I heard you were both on a business trip to San Francisco. Was it just you on the car?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion.

I was just as puzzled. If Victor was indeed in Los Angeles, why hadn’t his family been informed? Why the secrecy?

But I knew my role in the family, covering up for Victor was expected. To prevent her from worrying further, I lied, “We were supposed to go together, but Victor had an urgent matter in Los Angeles, so we took separate cars.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, seemingly grateful that Victor hadn’t been on the doomed disaster.

“Which hospital are you at? I’ll send the butler to bring you home immediately,” she said.

After sharing my location, the call ended.

I knew that recuperating at Preston Manor would be far better than staying in the hospital. Besides, my presence in the Preston family was a secret not meant for public knowledge.

Despite my injuries, I still had work to do. As a Marketing Director, my trip to San Francisco was meant to represent the company and ensure the success of a major partnership. That was why, I needed to report the accident and update the company as soon as possible.

More urgently, I needed to know what Victor was up to. Was he really in Los Angeles, or was it just another lie?

Since it was quite often for him to hide something these days, including his one-month trip three month ago.

I must find him and find out everything!

With no hesitation, I left the ward, hobbling towards the payment counter while calling my assistant, instructing her to report my condition to the company.

As I did, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure sprinting across the lobby. It was Victor, my husband, the CEO of Preston Group.

My husband was rushing toward the obstetrician’s office with a woman in his arms. She was draped in a suit, her legs wrapped in his black coat, visibly bleeding.

He held her with such care, a tenderness that sent a jolt of pain through my heart.

Even when I had my second miscarried a month ago, Victor had never shown this level of concern. When I cried out in agony, there wasn’t a trace of worry or sadness on his face.

“Has he been cheating on me?” I muttered under my breath, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.

After completing the hospital’s discharge procedures, I found Victor outside the room, his face clouded with worry. My voice trembled as I confronted him, “Victor, who is she?”

He turned, his expression hardening when he saw me.

“Why are you here? You were supposed to leave for San Francisco today,” he snapped, his eyes darting around nervously.

Before I could answer, he demanded, “Are you following me?”