The Last Mistress's Wife

Sitting on the couch, legs crossed and smirking, is Rina Warren, Richard's second sister.

She looks too comfortable, like someone who belongs in this house more than I do.

A smirk tugs at her perfectly painted lips as she rises to face me.

“Well, well, look who we have here. If it isn't the famous wife herself. She must have been weeping on hearing the news.” She mocks in derision.

While I ignore her and keep walking toward the stairs.

“Don't you dare walk past me.” She snaps.

I pause and slowly turn. ”What is it, Rina?”

If anything, I am older than her in age.

But because of the high level of disrespect I have faced in Richard's house, almost every member of his family talks to me anyhow.

Her lips curl into a mocking smile. “You saw the news, didn't you? The whole city's talking about it. My brother's finally getting what he earnestly longed for.”

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to slap the smugness off her face.

“You mean what the family forced him to think he deserves?”

Her smile broadens. “Don't act like an omega. He was never happy with you. You kept giving birth to the weaker gender. You couldn't give him a son.”

The words hit like ice, and I take a slow breath, choosing my words carefully.

“You are also a girl, after all.”

Her face falls, and her smile vanishes. For the first time it looks like I have won the battle.

“You… What happened to the timid, obedient wife who barely had the guts to retort?”

I meet her gaze, unwaveringly. “Go look for her. She isn't me. She's gone.”

And without another word, I resume the stairs, taking slow breaths to pacify my anger.

Martha meets me along the hallway on the second floor.

She greets me, but my voice is distant and detached, like I am speaking to her from afar.

I walk past her before she can form words. I don't have the energy to stand on my feet for a longer time.

Inside my room, I shut the door noiselessly and lean against it, exhaling deeply.

My gaze falls on the framed wedding photo sitting gently on the dresser.

In there, our smiles look real in the photo.

My white wedding gown shimmers, my eyes glow, and Richard's hand is firmly around my waist.

We look happy. Rather, I look happy.

Remembering all those promises and vows makes me nearly puke.

I walk toward the dresser and pull out a brown file on the last drawer.

The divorce papers, still in my left hand, feel lighter than they should.

I take up a pen and sign and write on the necessary lines before placing them inside the brown file.

Then bit by bit, I begin folding my belongings into neat piles. Every single damn thing I own.

Halfway through packing, something drops to the floor, and I bend low to pick it up.

It is the ultrasound photo of my second baby, Amelia. A small shape barely visible within the dark shadow.

Richard cursed the hell out of me that day.

Once my bags of luggage are full, I walk down to the kid's room: the nursery.

My two daughters’ clothes and dolls are neatly arranged at the edge of the bed.

Walking to their closet, I pick up their tiny dresses one by one, placing them with care.

It strikes me how fast they have grown. Grace is five now, Amelia three.

Back in my room, I take the brown files and head straight to Richard's private quarters upstairs.

The door is locked as always.

A young maid passing by unexpectedly pauses, looking startled to see me standing there.

She looks down at the file I'm holding.

“Do you want to deliver the file to Boss?”

I nod.

“You can drop it in his gym. He never misses a day.”

I nod and make my way there.

The gym is silent with rows of treadmills, dumbbells, stationary bikes, barbells, and other equipment I do not know.

Quietly, I place the brown file on the treadmill and return to my room.

Rolling out the bags of luggage with that of my kids, I call one of the maids, who signals the guards to assist.

Together we roll the bags from the stairs to the living room.

Rina's nowhere around the mansion, so my exit isn't stopped by anyone.

The guards place the last of the luggage into the booth of the car.

I stand for a moment, staring up at the mansion that was once my dream, my hope.

I climb into the car, start the engine, and watch the gates roll slowly.

Behind me, the house gets smaller and smaller until it disappears completely in the rearview mirror.