Chapter 2Mortgage Paid, Husband’s First Love Moved In

The next morning, I was jolted awake by the acrid smell of medicinal herbs.

I opened my eyes on the narrow sofa, my entire spine aching as if it had been twisted out of place. The sound of clattering came from the kitchen. I pushed myself up and walked over.

The sight that greeted me made me tremble with rage.

Serena was wearing my silk nightgown—the one I’d never even brought myself to wear. She was casually stirring a dark concoction in a pot.

“Who said you could wear my clothes?” I snapped.

She jumped, startled. The spoon slipped from her hand, splattering black droplets of the brew. “Raina, Mark said you had so many clothes, and I didn’t bring anything to change into. I just grabbed one. It looks pretty old, so I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

I stared at her pathetic act, strode over, and snatched the spoon from her hand. “Take it off. And get out.”

Her eyes welled up, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Raina. I’ll change right now. Please don’t be angry. My heart starts to hurt whenever I get stressed…”

As she spoke, she deliberately nudged the bowl of medicine on the counter. It tipped, and the dark, thick liquid spilled all over the designer handbag I had sitting there—the bag I’d saved for six months to buy as a reward for a promotion.

My heart ached. I grabbed the bowl and, in one swift motion, flung the remaining liquid at her feet.

“Ah!” she shrieked, collapsing to the floor.

The master bedroom door flew open. Mark rushed out, not even bothering to put on shoes. He shoved me aside with such force that I slammed into the corner of the refrigerator.

“Raina, have you lost your mind?! You know she’s sick!”

He turned and frantically checked Serena’s feet, even though the skin was only slightly red where the liquid had splashed.

“Mark, it was my fault. I was clumsy,” Serena sobbed, leaning into his arms. “I accidentally dirtied Raina’s bag… She has every right to be angry with me…”

Mark shot to his feet and slapped me across the face.

The blow was heavy. My ear rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

“Where are your manners? She’s severely depressed! Are you so cruel you have to bully a sick woman?”

I stared at the man I had known for seven years. The man who had warmed my hands and cooked me porridge in our freezing basement apartment now wore the face of a complete stranger.

Mark bent down, lifted Serena into his arms, and carried her back to the bedroom, tossing a final, sneering remark over his shoulder.

“Wipe that calculating look off your face. It’s disgusting.”

I leaned against the wall to steady myself and let out a hollow laugh.

I opened my banking app and checked our recent transactions. The five-thousand-dollar bonus that was supposed to go into our joint account was gone. Mark had withdrawn it.

I pushed open the bedroom door. He was gently dabbing at the stains on Serena’s feet.

“Where is it? What did you do with my five-thousand-dollar bonus?”

Mark didn’t even look up. “Serena needs money for her treatments and some supplements. Your bonus was for the emergency fund.” His voice was casual, entitled. “And on your way home from work, pick up some premium nutritional supplements. She’s weak and needs to build up her strength.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

He was using my hard-earned money to support his long-lost love. And now he was treating me like an errand girl.

What a perfect plan.

I looked at the woman on the bed, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips, and my fists clenched.