Follow
Chapters
Share
My Husband Fed His Mistress While I Starved Novel Cover

My Husband Fed His Mistress While I Starved

As I lay on the side of the road, unable to move after the accident, Bruce Wilson turned his back and walked off with Nalani Warren. "I already called an ambulance for her. Let's go celebrate your birthday," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When the ambulance took me to the hospital and the staff needed a family member's signature, I called Bruce repeatedly, but all I got was ringing silence. After my surgery, I stumbled across Nalani's Facebook update: "Bruce is the world's greatest. He surprised me with a trip to Paris for Fashion Week..." The photo attached showed Bruce beaming at the camera, his eyes radiating warmth. I didn't bother confronting him; instead, I calmly switched off my phone and concentrated on my recovery. Soon after I left the hospital, Bruce was desperately trying to track me down. --- On the day I was discharged, Bruce called me for the first time. He flatly ordered, "Raquel, pick us up at the airport.
Chapters
Share

Chapter 3

When I met with the lawyer, he asked if I had thought about a mutual divorce settlement.

Thinking about everything that had happened recently, I shook my head calmly. "Let's just proceed with the divorce suit directly. I'll leave the rest to you."

I entrusted the entire divorce process to my lawyer. After taking care of this, I headed to the cemetery to move my parents' ashes back to our hometown. When my parents passed away unexpectedly, I was heartbroken. Bruce had managed all their funeral arrangements.

So, when the cemetery staff told me I needed the signature of the person who had handled the initial arrangements to move the ashes, I was momentarily taken aback.

I brought the consent form back and placed it in front of Bruce. He frowned, puzzled, and asked why. I replied, "I dreamed of my parents last night. They said they wanted to go back home."

Bruce was still not on board. "Won't it be a hassle to visit them in the future?"

During their lives, my parents had treated him like their own son. Every year, on their memorial day, Bruce would prepare a lot to pay his respects. But ever since Nalani came into the picture, he stopped attending those visits. The day he met Nalani happened to be the same day as my parents' memorial, and Bruce decided to spend that day celebrating with Nalani instead. I had once brought this up with him.

Bruce, frowning and annoyed, told me, "Your parents have passed on; they wouldn't want me to break a promise to a friend over something so trivial. They're not like you; they wouldn't hold grudges."

Thinking back on this, I responded calmly, "They aren't here anymore; they won't mind."

When similar words came from my mouth, Bruce, despite his displeasure, was left speechless. "Just sign it," I urged, pushing the consent form toward him. Bruce was about to argue further when a startled shout came from the bathroom.

Instantly, he swallowed his words, picked up the pen, signed his name on the consent form, and rushed toward the bathroom with a look of urgency.

Looking at his signature on the form, I felt unexpectedly grateful to Nalani for conveniently diverting Bruce's attention. Otherwise, I'd have needed to come up with another excuse to deal with him. It was exhausting.

As I prepared to head back to the cemetery with the consent form, Bruce called out from the bathroom. "Raquel..."

I ignored him. Yet, he seemed determined to get a response, unwilling to let the matter drop. I hopped on one leg to the bathroom door and asked with a frown what he needed.

Bruce, looking tense, said, "Nalani twisted her ankle. Can you help me take her to the hospital?"

I glanced down at Nalani, wincing in pain, and chuckled softly. "Sorry, I'm not able to help."

Bruce immediately grew angry. "Raquel, now isn't the time to be jealous. Nalani is hurt; can't you stop being so petty?"

I interrupted impatiently. "My own leg isn't working either. If you can't manage, I'll call an ambulance for you."

Bruce mumbled, unable to find a retort, but his disapproval and disdain were obvious. After years of marriage, I knew he was annoyed that I couldn't help, and that his college junior had gotten hurt, which he somehow blamed on me. Seeing me stand still, he found an outlet for his frustration: "Then hurry up and call an ambulance! Why are you just standing there? Such bad luck."

"How did I end up marrying someone like you?"

Casually, I hopped out, picked up my phone, dialed 911, and then returned to the bedroom. After the ambulance took her away, I received a message from Bruce: "Since you dislike Nalani so much, I'll be staying at her place for the next few days."

"It'll give us both some space to cool off, and you can reflect on your issues."

Reading the message, I laughed. Bruce, as always, managed to shift the blame. In the past, seeing such words would have led to an immediate apology from me. I'd have hurried to the hospital to help care for Nalani, injury and all, just to prevent them from having time alone together.

But now, I felt free. Living alone wasn't so bad.

Keep Watching!
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to continue reading
Unlock All Episodes
Open the Official Website

You may also like

After My Husband Gave Our Fortune to His Mistress Novel Cover
8.4
The numbers on my monitor ticked upward in a dizzying blur, a neon-green cascade that should have felt like victory. *Fifteen million dollars.* In one week. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. This was *Aetheria*. My code. My architecture. The culmination of three years of sleepless nights, caffeine overdoses, and missed birthdays. I sat in the cramped, windowless storage closet Maddox graciously called my "home office," listening to the hum of the server cooling fans. That sound was the heartbeat of our future—or so I’d let myself believe. I checked the time.
Discarded Heiress: Reborn from Mafia Prison Novel Cover
7.6
Seven years ago, my fiancé, Don Dante Moretti, sent me to prison to take the fall for my adopted sister, Chiara. He called it a gift—a way to protect me from a worse fate. Today, he picked me up from prison only to abandon me at my family's estate. His reason? Chiara was having another one of her "episodes." My parents then informed me I'd be staying in the third-floor storage room, so as not to disturb the fragile girl who stole my life. They celebrated her "recovery" with a lavish dinner party, while I was treated like a ghost. When I refused to join, my mother hissed that I was ungrateful, and my father called me jealous. They assumed I couldn't understand their venomous whispers. But prison was my university. I learned Spanish. I understood every word. It was then I realized I wasn't just a sacrifice; I was disposable. The love I once felt for all of them had turned to ash. That night, in the dusty storage room, I logged onto an encrypted channel I'd set up years ago. A single message was waiting: "The offer stands. Do you accept?" My hands, scarred and steady, typed back, "I accept."
Ex wants reconciliation, but I'm already married Novel Cover
9.3
I used to believe love could survive anything. For ten years, Joe Bennett was the center of my world—the boy I loved through college, heartbreak, and every lonely night I spent begging to be chosen. But when my family discovered I wasn’t their biological daughter, everything I thought belonged to me vanished overnight. My parents replaced me with the “real” heir, stripped me of my future, and tried to marry me off to a billionaire old enough to be my grandfather. Desperate, I turned to the man I trusted most. Joe laughed in my face. Then Edward Smith appeared. Cold, powerful, impossibly unreadable, Edward offered me a marriage with no strings attached—just his name, his protection, and a way out. I expected another prison wrapped in luxury. Instead, my quiet husband became the first person who ever made me feel safe. But just when I finally began to heal, Joe came back, claiming he wanted me again. And this time, he wasn’t alone. Betrayal, obsession, family secrets, and revenge collide as I uncover the truth behind the people who once swore they loved me. The cruelest part? The only man I can trust may be the one I never meant to fall for.
He Won an Award With My Song then Cast Me Aside Novel Cover
9.1
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Moonlight Music Award for Best Song goes to... Jax Arnold!" I stood in the wings, heart pounding. "Eternal Bond" was *my* song—the one I wrote for our tenth anniversary, pouring my soul into every note while Jax slept. I waited. For him to give credits. For him to call my name. To invite me onto the stage as he promised. I waited for the moment where I finally got to share his glory. "I couldn't have done this without my muse," then I watched Jax pulled Sienna Blake into the spotlight. My blood ran cold. Sienna? The backup singer who couldn't even read sheet music? "Her wild soul inspired every lyric," Jax crooned, kissing her while the cameras flashed. I walked onto the stage. Looking right into his flickering eyes. "You're right, Jax," I said, my voice cutting through the applause as I slipped off my engagement ring. "Sienna is a wild soul. So wild she doesn't know a G-major from a G-string." I threw the diamond at his face. "I'm taking my copyright, my portfolio, and my dignity. Oh, and Jax? Check your email. I just released the original demos. The ones with *my* voice." I left him gaping like a fish and walked straight to Cole Voss—the city’s most ruthless fixer. "I don't just want to sue him," I told Cole, handing over a drive of evidence. "I want to bury him." Cole smiled, terrified and impressed. "Ms. Tate, you're going to need a better lawyer. Luckily, I'm the best."
His Mother Offered Me Millions to Leave Him Novel Cover
7.8
The check slid across the table with the same casual precision Victoria used for everything else in her life. Five million dollars, written in ink so black it looked like it might bleed into the ivory paper. The Manhattan penthouse stretched around us, all glass and steel and the kind of silence that costs money to maintain. I watched the check come to rest against the white tablecloth and felt something sharp and familiar unfurl in my chest. "Five million," Victoria said, her voice carrying the crisp authority of old money. "Disappear from my son's life, Ms. Reed. Consider it a fair price for the inconvenience." She didn't touch her water glass. Didn't fidget. Just sat there like she was conducting a board meeting, which I supposed she was.
Served Scraps By My Cruel Husband Novel Cover
8.0
I was once the CEO of a pharmaceutical empire, but now I was a ghost in my own kitchen, forced to serve the husband who stole my life. Bolden didn't just take my company and frame me as insane; he sat with his mistress, Kandace, and forced me to eat their table scraps like a dog. They poisoned my father to seize his legacy, gaslit the world into believing I was unstable, and made me scrub floors until my hands were raw and bleeding. Every day was a performance of submission, a calculated risk to protect my infant son, Leo, from their cruelty. They thought my silence was defeat. They believed the drugs had turned me into a hollow shell, unaware that I had been faking taking them for weeks. When they bulldozed my childhood home and desecrated my father' s grave, the last ember of my old life died-and a cold, ruthless resolve took its place. Tonight, I' m not just escaping with my son. I' m taking the evidence of their murders and fraud with me, and I won't stop until their stolen empire burns to ash.