The Girl I Fostered Stole My Husband

On our seventh anniversary, James Roscente and I had planned to get matching tattoos.

We were supposed to ink each other's names on our bodies.

When the anesthesia wore off, I groggily opened my eyes.

I looked down at my chest.

Where "James Roscente" should have been, five crooked letters stared back at me: "New York City Must-Eat List."

The messy script looked like a child's scribble.

My face drained of color.

Sophia Evans, the tattoo artist, stood nearby, covering her mouth as she laughed uncontrollably.

"What else can a woman like you do besides leech off men?"

She batted her lashes, her tone dripping with mockery.

"Did I get it wrong?"

Blood rushed to my head.

I grabbed the nearest glass and smashed it against the floor.

Shards flew everywhere, some grazing the hem of Sophia's dress.

She shrieked and stumbled back.

The next second, James burst in.

He didn't even glance at me before rushing to Sophia, shielding her in his arms.

"Are you insane?"

He glared at me, his brows furrowed in anger.

"Sophia's just young and joking around."

"Was that really necessary?"

My gaze locked onto him.

Onto the open collar of his shirt.

Where my name should have been.

Instead, three crisp, fresh characters stood out clearly: "Sophia Evans."

The ink was still dark, the lines perfectly smooth.

Sophia peeked out from James' embrace.

She stuck out her tongue, her expression all innocence.

"James complimented my name last time."

"So I thought I'd play a little joke."

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling.

"You're not mad, are you, sis?"

---

My expression turned icy in an instant.

I was about to speak when James Roscente's friends pushed the door open.

"James and his wife are truly enviable."

"Of course. Back then, James covered the entire Rosewood Estate with ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine golden roses to win her over."

"Seven years of marriage, and they're still getting matching tattoos. James's devotion hasn't changed a bit."

"By the way, what design did you two get?"

Before the words fully left his mouth, several pairs of eyes locked onto my exposed collarbone.

The laughter died abruptly.

Their smiles froze in place, but their eyes went completely rigid.

The room fell dead silent.

Only Sophia Evans let out a soft giggle.

James frowned, instinctively shielding her behind him.

"Sophia, apologize."

Sophia pouted and reluctantly muttered,

"Fine, sorry. Happy now?"

She glanced at me, then rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath,

"Just a joke. No need to be so uptight."

"Old hags are so high-maintenance."

James patted her shoulder lightly, then turned to me with a placating look.

"Sophia already apologized. Don't hold it against her—she's just a kid."

"She's only twenty. Naive and blunt."

"You've always been magnanimous. Don't make this difficult for her."

Every word was a velvet-wrapped blade.

James stood there, exuding effortless elegance, making his favoritism sound like impartial justice.

I laughed outright.

"An apology?"

"I don't accept it."

Slowly, I adjusted my collar, covering the five humiliating words etched into my skin.

My nails dug into my palms. The pain was sharp, but nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

I met James's gaze and enunciated each word clearly.

"Since you can't handle this properly."