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Married Three Years... Only to Discover I'm the Mistress Novel Cover

Married Three Years... Only to Discover I'm the Mistress

When her daughter is denied entry to kindergarten, a mother uncovers a devastating secret about her life. The school claims her husband, George Pearce, already has a son enrolled there. Investigation reveals George's assistant, Myra Larson, has a marriage certificate with him dated five years ago—predating the protagonist's own three-year marriage. This mystery story explores the betrayal of a woman who realizes her entire legal union might be a lie, forcing her to confront her status as an unwitting mistress.
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Chapter 3

Myra's expression shifted subtly when she heard about me calling the police.

But a reporter quickly cut in, "Hah! You're just a scammer. Even if the cops show up, you'll be the one in trouble! Get out now. Queen Myra's property has no place for trash like you."

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the gate. I lost my footing and stumbled forward, about to crash onto the ground.

"What's going on here?" a clear voice rang out.

I snapped my head up.

"Oh! It's the estate's new property manager!"

"I remember her. She's that senior executive our paper featured, the one who worked her way out of poverty."

When I saw Jennifer Stewart approaching, I finally had a shred of hope. "Jennifer! Over here! Tell them the truth."

Jennifer was the college student I had sponsored for years. Due to her exceptional capabilities, the moment she graduated, I hired her at a high salary to manage my new estate. If anyone could clear things up, it was her.

"Jennifer…" Myra's expression shifted.

I shot her a cold look and grabbed Jennifer's hand. "Jennifer, tell them whose house this is."

"Miss…" The hand I was holding struggled, then slipped free. Jennifer forced a polite smile at me and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't recall inviting you here."

"Jennifer?" I was stunned.

Jennifer moved to Myra's side, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She asked with concern, "Mrs. Pearce, are you okay?"

"Mrs. Pearce?" For a second, I thought I had misheard.

I grabbed Jennifer's arm and turned her back toward me. "You don't recognize me? I'm Rachel Miller, the one who sponsored you!"

She looked startled, the smile on her face faltering. "I'm sorry, but the one who sponsored me has always been Mrs. Pearce…"

My anger flared instantly as I snapped, "I am Mrs. Pearce! You graduated just last month, and I attended your graduation ceremony. You recognized me perfectly fine then!"

"I… I didn't… I don't know what you're talking about…" Jennifer's eyes instantly filled with tears, her voice breaking.

"That's enough!" Myra slapped my hand away and pulled Jennifer behind her, frowning at me. "I know you resent me for taking Georgie from you. That's between us, and you can take it out on me. Why drag an innocent child into this?"

"Oh, my God! This is what a real sponsor looks like!"

"Exactly. People who truly care treat those they sponsor like their own children. They would never grab and rush them like that."

"I'm going to cry. Our goddess is so generous and kind. She and Mr. Pearce truly deserve each other!"

"What's wrong with Rachel? As if stealing a man isn't enough, now she's trying to steal credit for Queen Myra's charity work. What a bitch!"

Cameras flashed wildly. I stared at Jennifer in disbelief as she hid behind Myra, muttering, "Jennifer…"

Her eyes darted away, avoiding my gaze. She blinked, tears nearly falling. "Miss, I really don't know you. Please don't treat me like this…"

"Rachel!" Myra tightened her grip around Jennifer and shot me a warning glare. "I… I won't let you hurt her!"

A strand of hair fell loose, swaying beside Myra's face. Her gaze was defiant, making her look wounded yet resolute. It was the perfect picture of a wronged, dependable heroine.

"Poor Myra! It's all that bitch's fault!"

"I can't take this anymore! Someone needs to teach that bitch a lesson."

"While everyone was so focused on that tramp, I noticed something. The bitch's car looks familiar. I think I've seen it in Queen Myra's posts before. Don't tell me that's stolen too?"

"Let's smash it!"

"No!"

My heart clenched. But it was already too late.

Someone sprinted toward my car, raised a metal rod, and smashed down hard on the windshield.