Betrayed Wife: Reclaiming My Stolen Life

Audrey pushed open the front door of the Vaughn mansion. The house smelled wrong. It smelled like gardenias and tea. It smelled like an intruder.

She walked into the living room and stopped.

Erma, her mother-in-law, was sitting on the cream-colored sofa, holding a delicate porcelain teacup. The older woman was dressed impeccably in a silk pantsuit, her silver hair swept up in a flawless chignon. She looked like she owned the place.

"Ah, Audrey," Erma said, taking a slow sip of her tea. "I hear you made quite the spectacle of yourself today. Really, throwing a tantrum at the club? It's beneath even you."

Audrey didn't flinch. She walked further into the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. "You knew."

Erma set her teacup down on the saucer with a sharp clink. "Knew what, dear?"

"About Carmen. About Leo." Audrey's voice was steady, the rage banked behind a wall of ice. "You knew your son had a secret life and that my baby didn't just disappear."

Erma's eyes hardened. "You were too consumed by your grief over that baby. A man like Devonte needs a partner who lives in the present, not a ghost haunting the past." She looked Audrey up and down with blatant disdain. "Carmen gives him what he needs. You should be grateful he kept you around this long."

"Grateful?" Audrey let out a hollow laugh. "You think I should be grateful for being lied to for twenty-five years?"

Before Erma could answer, the doorbell rang. Erma's lips curled into a smug smile. "Ah, right on time."

Audrey turned as the butler opened the front door. Devonte walked in, his arm wrapped around Carmen's waist. Carmen was pulling a matching set of Louis Vuitton luggage, looking like she had just stepped off a runway.

"What is this?" Audrey asked, her eyes darting from the luggage to Devonte's face.

"Carmen is moving in," Devonte said casually, as if he were announcing the weather. "It's a big house. There's plenty of room. She can help my mother with her appointments."

"Like hell she is," Audrey spat. "This is my home."

"This is a Vaughn asset," Erma corrected, standing up from the sofa. "It belongs to the family trust. You are merely a resident, Audrey. A resident who can be evicted."

Carmen gave a little wave, her diamond ring catching the light. "Hi, Audrey. I hope we can be friends. For Devonte's sake."

Audrey lunged for the stairs, blocking the path to the second floor. "You are not setting foot in my bedroom."

Devonte stepped forward, his face darkening. "Move, Audrey."

"No."

He reached out and grabbed her arm, his grip bruising. He shoved her aside. Audrey stumbled, her heel catching on the edge of the rug. She fell sideways, her knee slamming into the sharp corner of the hallway table.

Pain shot up her leg. She looked down and saw blood blooming on her white slacks.

"Look what you made me do," Devonte muttered, not looking at her. He guided Carmen up the stairs, whispering something in her ear that made the younger woman giggle.

Erma walked past Audrey without a second glance. "Clean yourself up, dear. You're bleeding on the rug."

Audrey sat on the floor, the pain in her knee nothing compared to the humiliation burning in her chest. She watched them disappear up the stairs. She heard the door to the master bedroom—the room she shared with her husband—close with a soft click.

She slowly got to her feet. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She just walked into the study, locked the door behind her, and pulled the heavy curtains shut.

She booted up the desktop computer and opened the filing cabinet. She was done being the victim. It was time to go to war.