OMG My Husband is in Love with His Niece

My ninety-ninth attempt to seduce my husband Mark crashed and burned. I was starting to think he had a medical issue, so I'd already tracked down the best doctor in the city—ready to gently suggest he get some help. But then I overheard him talking to a friend.

"Get me more of that erectile dysfunction medication."

"Even if I can't be with Sarah, I'll stay faithful to her."

Sarah. His older brother's adopted daughter.

My heart dropped straight through the floor. I called my twin sister, Jessica.

"Jess, I finally get it. A useless man isn't worth my time."

"I'm getting a divorce."

"Good for you, Honey. I know plenty of eligible bachelors. I'll set you up with eight or ten—give you some options to play with."

We hung up. Mark didn't leave. Instead, he pulled a doll out of a hidden cabinet—a perfect, eerie replica of Sarah.

He placed it carefully on a chair, leaned in, and kissed its forehead like it was something sacred.

He kissed it from head to toe.

And he got… turned on.

He didn't resist—he just went with it. Sweat glistened on his forehead. It was intense.

"Sarah… Sarah…"

"What am I going to do with you?"

Every whispered word was a knife, stabbing me in the heart over and over.

I'd always known about the doll—his dirty little secret. At first, I didn't get it. But seeing Sarah's face on it… I understood.

She was the one he really wanted.

Bringing his sick obsession into the light would wreck both of them.

And me? I was just the cover—the wife he chose to hide behind.

Jessica and I are twins. A hospital mix-up tore us apart for thirteen years. By the time they found me, I was all sharp edges—sensitive, defensive, fiercely independent.

At our first shared birthday party, I got into a fight with some snob who made fun of my manners.

Jessica got pulled away. I was left alone. Defenseless. My parents—already wrapped around their newfound daughter's finger—just stood and watched.

"Classy people don't brawl at birthday parties. You and your sister only look alike."

"I bet her real parents are mortified. No one's even standing up for her."

"So much for the 'twin beauties.' You're nothing but a weed."

Then—a bottle of red wine came pouring down over the guy's head.

Mark stood behind him, flawless in a tailored suit, handsome, surrounded by women hanging on his every word.

I was one of them.

He didn't even look at me, but he defended me.

"You come to celebrate the hostess and then insult her? Real classy."

The guy didn't even wipe the wine off. He just scurried away.

Jessica rushed over as soon as a servant told her what happened. She thanked Mark, then pulled me aside, protective like a mother hen.

She warned me: "Clara, stay away from Mark. The Ultons are messed up. With your personality? They'd eat you alive."

But I was already hooked. Captivated. I didn't listen to a word.

He reached out to me.

We went to firework shows, went stargazing, traveled. He was endlessly patient with my mood swings.

He knew I overthought everything—so he'd gently untangle my anxieties before they could spiral.

He knew me better than I knew myself.

My walls came down. When he proposed a serious relationship—one leading to marriage—I said yes without a second thought.

But then he stopped.

"Let's wait until we're married," he said. "I want to do this right."

I understood. I thought he respected me. I thought he valued me.

The fortune teller read our charts and said this month was terrible for intimacy—even warned there might be bloodshed.

And I believed him. I made excuses for him.

I thought he just wanted a stable future.

Then finally, the so-called "right time" came.

But in bed…

He couldn't do it.

He looked at me full of guilt and said, "I was too nervous. I love you too much. I just need you to be more prepared."

Now it all makes sense. It was all a web of lies.

I was the one who seduced him, flirted with him. He seemed to go along with it, but the whole time… he was thinking of someone else.

Sarah.

His brother's adopted daughter. He was carrying a forbidden desire.

And he married me just to hide it.

Back in my room, I felt completely drained.

I slipped into a sexy little black dress and called my best friend, Ashley.