Wife Rejected for Mistress

The Gardner family picnic was supposed to be a rare moment of harmony—a chance for us all to enjoy the spring sunshine in the rolling countryside. Grandfather Gardner had insisted on the outing, hoping to bring our fractured family together after the tension of recent weeks.

I should have known better.

"We'll take the path along the ridge," Ridge announced, pointing to a narrow trail that wound through the woods. "The view from there is spectacular."

Amira clapped her hands in delight, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him adoringly. "Oh, Ridge, you always know the best spots!"

I followed silently behind them, my ankle already beginning to ache from the uneven terrain. The conversation flowed around me—easy, comfortable banter that somehow always excluded my voice.

"Watch your step, Diana," Grandfather Gardner murmured as he passed me. "This path can be treacherous."

I nodded gratefully for his concern. At least someone noticed I existed.

The accident happened quickly. One moment I was carefully navigating a steep section of the trail, the next my foot slipped on loose gravel and twisted beneath me. Pain shot up my leg as I fell, a sharp cry escaping my lips.

"Diana!" Margaret, Ridge's mother, gasped from ahead.

I looked down to see my ankle already swelling, the skin purpling around the joint. "I think it's broken," I whispered, tears springing to my eyes.

Ridge turned, his expression more annoyed than concerned. Before he could respond, Amira let out a delicate cry of her own.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, examining her finger where a tiny thorn had scratched her skin. "I've cut myself on that horrible bush!"

Ridge was at her side instantly, all thoughts of my injury forgotten. "Let me see," he said tenderly, taking her hand in his. "We need to clean this properly."

"But my ankle—" I began.

"You'll be fine," Ridge cut me off. "Just sit here for a moment. We'll be back after I tend to Amira's wound."

I stared in disbelief as he guided Amira to a nearby log, pulling out his handkerchief to dab at her barely visible scratch. The rest of the family hovered uncertainly, their eyes darting between my obviously swollen ankle and Amira's theatrical wincing.

"Someone should stay with Diana," Grandfather Gardner suggested, but Ridge waved him away.

"She's perfectly capable of waiting here while I deal with this," he said dismissively.

As they walked away, I heard Amira's soft laugh and Ridge's murmured response. The sound faded into the distance, leaving me alone with the growing pain in my ankle and a deeper ache in my heart.

I don't know how long I sat there, the sun beating down on my head as shadows lengthened across the forest floor. The birds had gone quiet, replaced by other sounds—rustlings in the underbrush, the distant growl of what might have been a fox or something larger.

Fear gripped me as I finally forced myself to stand, my ankle throbbing with each movement. I had to get back to the picnic site. I couldn't stay here alone as darkness approached.

The journey back was excruciating. Each step sent jolts of pain through my leg, and by the time I spotted the white tablecloths of our picnic spread, my dress was torn and my face streaked with tears and dirt.

What I saw stopped me in my tracks.

Ridge and Amira sat close together at the edge of the clearing, their heads bent over a private lunch spread. Ridge was feeding her a strawberry, his fingers lingering at her lips. Neither had noticed my approach.

"Diana!" Margaret's shocked voice cut through my haze of pain. "Where have you been? We've been searching everywhere!"

Ridge looked up then, his expression hardening as he took in my disheveled appearance. "Finally decided to join us?" he asked coldly. "You've ruined everyone's afternoon with your wandering off."

"I didn't wander off," I protested, my voice breaking. "I fell and hurt my ankle. You left me there."

"You should have been more careful," Amira added, not meeting my eyes. "You're always so clumsy, Diana."

Hours later, I limped into my bedroom at the Gardner mansion, my ankle wrapped in ice by the family doctor who had been summoned to treat Amira's "shock" at seeing my injury.

Something caught my eye as I approached my dressing table—a scattering of familiar silver pieces across the polished wood.

My heart stopped.

"No," I whispered, reaching for the shattered remains of my mother's bracelet—the only thing I had left of her after the mudslide that had nearly claimed my life years ago.

The delicate silver links lay broken beyond repair, the charm she had worn every day of her life crushed as if under a heavy heel.

"Who did this?" I demanded of the maid who was dusting in the corner.

She flinched at my tone, her eyes downcast. "Miss Amira ordered it done," she admitted quietly. "Said it was punishment for your inappropriate behavior today."

I stared at the broken pieces in my palm, something inside me breaking along with them.