Unlike Broken Arms, Broken Hearts Don‘t Mend

When my husband, Drake Connor, posted a photo of me on social media, this random woman mistook me for his mistress.

She confronted me in the street, a baby in her arms and a crowd of relatives and friends in tow, ready to teach me a lesson.

"You shameless tramp! How dare you seduce my husband!

"I’ll beat you to death, you disgusting woman!"

The crowd beat me, smashed my car, and ripped my clothes. I left that encounter bruised and battered, suffering a concussion and a fractured arm.

In the end, I called the police and demanded justice. I had a divorce agreement drawn up and threw it in Drake's face.

"If it weren’t for me, you’d be begging in the streets! And now you dare to hide a woman and child from me?

"Get out! Don’t expect a penny from me!"

I had just stepped out of my car, ready to head into the mall for some shopping when I noticed a group of people charging toward me from across the street.

They clutched phones and megaphones as if broadcasting a live stream, and through the loudspeaker, they shouted about teaching some mistress a lesson.

I shook my head.

These days, it seemed live streams were getting more bizarre by the day—no wonder they pulled in so much attention.

Then, suddenly, I noticed the woman holding a baby in the center of the group. It was Nelly Brooks, the university student my husband, Drake Conner, had been sponsoring.

Years ago, Drake told me he wanted to support some students from poor backgrounds, explaining that he had come from a modest family himself and wanted to offer a hand to others.

I thought his empathy came from experience, so I encouraged him.

Nelly was one of the students he sponsored.

I’d seen her profile and picture before. Her family was destitute. Her parents had both passed away, and her grandparents had raised her with great hardship.

At the time, I even felt sympathy for her and asked Drake to help her as much as possible.

As they walked in my direction, I moved to step aside, but someone shoved me, and I nearly fell.

Nelly looked directly at me.

"No way you’re getting away!"

Then she panned the camera to herself and shouted, "Look, everyone! This is the mistress who seduced my husband!"

I was shocked but kept my face expressionless. "You’ve got the wrong person. I’m not anyone’s mistress."

Nelly immediately retorted, "We didn’t make a mistake. You’re exactly who we’re here for, Magdalene.

"None of you know just how shameless this woman is! She not only wants to break up my family but also plans to have my husband transfer all his assets into her name.

“My husband is the CEO of a public company, and he’s handsome too, so of course this little tramp was all over him!"

Then she panned the camera to the baby in her arms.

"This is our daughter. She’s over six months old now, and this woman started coming after him while I was still pregnant. Filthy homewrecker!"

I lost the patience to explain after listening to such outrageous allegations.

"So, Nelly, is it? I’m warning you. Don’t spread such unfounded accusations—"

But before I could finish, a woman beside me slapped me across the face.

A loud ringing filled my head, and I almost lost my balance.

I had never been hit like that by anyone in my life, so I was at my limit.

I reached into my bag to call the police, but before I could, someone snatched my purse, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it.

“You filthy woman! Are you still denying it? You won’t give this act up, huh?

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to wreck other people’s relationships? You’ve no shame! You’re worse than a common tramp!”

Someone grabbed my hair and yanked, sending a wave of pain down my scalp and sweat across my brow.

“Let go of me! I’m not someone you can lay a hand on.”

But the crowd acted as if they hadn’t heard anything I said.

They shoved their phones in my face, taking photos and videos with manic glee.

People poured into the livestream where comments flooded the screen.

[Show that shameless woman what’s coming to her! Teach her not to crawl into other men’s beds!]

[This woman knew he was married and did it anyway—she deserves everything she’s getting!]

[She looks so innocent though! Who would’ve thought she’d stoop to being someone’s side piece?]

Nelly sneered at the last comment.

“Oh, you don’t know. The more innocent a woman looks, the filthier she is on the inside. She’ll spread her legs for any man!”

Her friend chimed in, “Just look at her cheap little act—you can tell she’s done this before!”

Then their eyes turned to my car.

“A Ferrari? Must’ve cost millions. Guess being a mistress really pays, huh?”

Nelly handed her baby to some middle-aged woman nearby and said, “She bought this car with dirty money. Let’s wreck it.”

They grabbed metal rods and began smashing my car. I’d never seen people act so outrageously, without concern for consequence.

Nelly snatched my car keys, unlocked the doors, and rummaged through my belongings.

She tossed my things to the ground and stomped on them.

Then she pulled a large gift box from the trunk.

I frowned. “I should warn you—that porcelain vase is worth over fifty million dollars.”

I had won the vase at an auction last week as a gift for my father. I was planning to give it to him that night.

Nelly scoffed, unimpressed. “You think I don’t know better? It’s just a cheap vase, not worth anything close to millions. What a joke!”

She smashed the vase onto the ground and laughed maniacally.

I looked at her and the wreckage around me and sighed. “I wonder if you’ll still be laughing when it’s time for you to pay for all this.”

She slapped me across the face.

“Shut up! Don’t think you can fool me!”