Chapter 1After My Husband Gave Her Status I Left

Three months into my pregnancy, I was sued by my husband’s mistress. At the same time, she demanded I get an abortion.

“As one woman to another,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “I’m giving you one last chance. Write a letter promising to cut off all contact with my husband, get rid of the baby, and I’ll drop the lawsuit. You won’t have to pay back a cent.”

It took me a moment to process. She thought I was the other woman.

A chill shot through me, but I forced my expression to remain calm as I looked at her.

She mistook my silence for guilt, and her composure swelled with the confidence of a wronged wife. “You’re an educated woman. You don’t want me to blow this up and ruin your reputation, do you?”

A cold, faint smile touched my lips. She had dug up everything about me, it seemed, except for one small, crucial detail: my marriage certificate.

Just then, a text from Manny buzzed on my phone.

“She has a very strong moral compass. If she finds out she’s the one on the side, she won’t be able to handle it.”

“I’ll make it up to you. For now, you need to play along.”

Those two short lines shattered what was left of my heart.

My hands were steady as I pulled my marriage certificate from my purse and slid it across the table toward her.

“Ma’am,” I said, my voice even. “It seems you missed something in your investigation.”

* * *

She flinched. Her face paled, and though her eyes were wide with disbelief, she snatched the document and flipped it open.

As she read the registered information, her expression curdled. The hand holding the certificate began to tremble.

I watched her in silence, but the storm raging inside me was just as violent as hers. This was the first time I’d ever had to deal with Manny’s infidelity.

And, I decided in that moment, it would be the last.

She slapped the certificate back down on the table, then, trying to regain her composure, opened her own purse. She pulled out an identical document and pushed it toward me.

“Miss Collins,” she said, her voice strained. “Did you really think I’d come here without being absolutely sure of my position?”

I picked it up. My own hands began to shake when I saw the date of registration.

May 20th, 2021.

The exact same day as mine.

My heart shattered, the pain a suffocating weight in my chest. It was hard to breathe.

“Are you trying to cover your tracks with a fake document?” Daisy, the mistress, still wore her mask of superiority.

I met her gaze, refusing to back down. “Fake or not, why don’t you go home and ask your husband? Or maybe the three of us should have a little chat?”

Daisy was clearly displeased with my tone. She saw it as a challenge.

“Manny is a very busy man. I won’t let him waste his time on trivial matters like this,” she sniffed. “And I won’t let you manipulate me into distrusting him.”

She seemed to be talking more to herself now, a strange mantra of self-assurance. “He’s a man, after all. Men of his status, wealthy and powerful… they all have a taste for trash on the side.” She spat the word ‘trash’ with deliberate venom.

“The fact that I’m even here, talking to you, is a courtesy I’m extending to you as the other woman. But if you continue to shamelessly entangle yourself with my husband, then you’ll have only yourself to blame for what comes next.”

Her final warning was delivered with eyes like shards of glass, waiting for me to break, to apologize, to surrender.

I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Miss Monroe, has it ever occurred to you that you might be the ‘trash’ on the side?”

“I think we’re both victims here,” I continued, my voice firm. “We shouldn’t be fighting each other. Manny is the one who created this mess. He’s the one who owes us an explanation, not the other way around.”

She sneered, looking at me as if I were a cornered animal, all empty bravado. “Still think you’re the real wife? Heh. Fine. I’ll show you something that will make you shut your mouth for good.”

She took out her phone and played a video.