He Chose His Mistress over My Dying Mother

A fortune teller once claimed my husband would betray our marriage in the fifth year.

Ethan Foster immediately kicked over the fortune teller's stall.

"Isabella and I have been in love for eight years. I won't tolerate your nonsense," he declared.

For the next four years, he cherished me like precious treasure.

Then his junior colleague, Sophia Valentine, confessed her feelings with tears in her eyes.

Ethan publicly tore up her love letter.

He vowed to cut all ties with her.

I believed him completely.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I received an anonymous package.

Inside were intimate photographs.

The images of Ethan entangled with Sophia pierced my heart.

On the back, elegant handwriting stated:

"Senior sister, his heart belongs to you, but his body belongs to me. Fair is fair."

At the bottom lay a pink lace lingerie set, identical to the one in the photographs.

I sat in the living room all night.

I didn't urge my late husband.

I simply had my lawyer prepare divorce papers, placing them on the coffee table.

When the midnight chimes sounded, Ethan entered, bringing the cold night air with him.

His face paled seeing the documents.

"The evidence is all here," I said coldly. "Sign them."

He frantically tore the photos and threw the lingerie in the trash.

"She set me up! I was drunk that night. She deliberately took me to a hotel. The photos are doctored!"

"She's getting revenge for my rejection!"

But the perfume on his collar didn't lie.

His usual crisp cedar scent was tainted with cloying floral notes.

Seeing my resolve, anger flashed in Ethan's eyes.

"Isabella, we've known each other eight years, been married five. You'd believe outsiders?"

I insisted he sign.

He suddenly laughed coldly.

"Fine. I'll make her explain herself."

Ethan called Sophia, his voice harsh.

"Sophia Valentine, if you harass Isabella again, I'll make you regret being born!"

He remained on the balcony for a long time.

He returned looking weary, his voice hoarse.

"I'll handle this, Isabella. Don't punish me with divorce."

I nodded slightly. "You have time."

Relieved, he moved to embrace me.

I stepped aside. "I'm tired. Sleep in the guest room tonight."