He Cheated Before Our Wedding, So I Slept With My Future Uncle‑in‑Law

By the time she arrived in Dublin, it was already late at night. Sol Smith went home, curled up on the couch, and cried quietly as the past came rushing back.

The Sandy Bay apartment had been Zamir Peterson’s first big purchase, bought with the profits from his first business venture. He’d bought it two years ago and put it in her name. Zamir had once told her he was grateful she’d stood by him through thick and thin, promising that one day he’d shower her with everything life had to offer—a token of his success.

He’d even ignored her protests and transferred half his company shares into her name. Once, under a sky full of stars, he’d sworn eternal loyalty to her.

But love is fickle. Eventually, it changed. He strayed, breaking every promise he’d made.

She didn’t sleep a wink that night. Sol Smith didn’t move until the first light of dawn began to streak across the sky. Then she pulled herself together and started packing.

She went through all of Zamir’s things one by one and hauled them off to a storage room. She changed the bed sheets and pillowcases, erasing every trace of him, before finally crashing into a deep sleep.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but she sensed someone approaching. Warm breath ghosted over her ear.

“Sol, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my ego get the best of me yesterday. I said stupid things and upset you,” came his voice, soaked in an overly sweet cologne that made her stomach turn.

Startled, she opened her eyes and shoved him away. Her gaze landed on the telltale love bites peeking out from his collar—and she immediately doubled over, gagging.

He was blatantly cheating, and he hadn’t even bothered to clean up before coming back.

She couldn’t tell if he was utterly shameless or just convinced she’d never actually leave him.

Zamir’s face froze for a moment, then softened into fake concern. “Are you feeling unwell? Should I take you to see a doctor?”

“Ugh—” Another wave of nausea hit her.

Zamir’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ve fired Carly Perkins. No one will come between us again.”

“Is that so?” Sol Smith lifted her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “And you don’t regret it?”

“She was just an irrelevant assistant. What’s there to regret?” Zamir pulled out a tissue and gently wiped the corner of her mouth, his tone coaxing. “Honey, don’t be mad, okay?”

Sol Smith didn’t budge. A dry, mocking laugh slipped out. “I’m not your wife, Zamir. Stop calling me that.”

“By next week, you will be.”

“If I remember correctly, weren’t you the one who suggested calling off the wedding?”

Zamir frowned, his lips pressing into a straight line, his tone helpless. “I said that in anger. You told me if I apologized, you’d forgive me once.”

“Oh, you remember that, do you? I also remember you swearing you’d never betray me—claiming you’d be cursed if you did.”

Maybe when Zamir made those promises, he truly loved her, envisioning a lifetime together. But over time, that love soured.

Guilt flickered in his eyes. He couldn’t meet hers—until his phone rang, saving him from the confrontation.

He breathed a small sigh of relief, glanced at his phone, then stood. “I have a meeting at the company this afternoon. I’ll come back later and cook for you.”

With that, he left, his footsteps hurried—almost like he was fleeing.

A bitter smile twisted Sol Smith’s lips, disdain brimming in her eyes.

...

That afternoon, she contacted a real estate agent and put the property on the market. Then she drove to the company.

For three years, she had occasionally brought Zamir lunch. The people there knew her—and knew the wedding was imminent. It had been three months since her last visit.

She took the elevator up, moving with an easy familiarity.

The hallway leading to the CEO’s office was carpeted, her high heels making no sound on the plush surface.

Her hand reached for the doorknob when she heard the soft, kittenish moans of a girl mingling with the rough breathing of a man.

Sol Smith’s fingers froze, the color draining from her face.

Her eyes stung painfully, but no tears came.

Same lies. Utter shamelessness.

She pulled out her phone, activated the recording function, and gently pushed the door open a crack. Inside, the two were so engrossed in their passionate encounter they didn’t notice her presence at the door.

As Carly’s head tilted back, her eyes suddenly locked onto the phone’s camera, and she screamed. The shock sent Zamir, who had been lost in the moment, into immediate panic.

“Zamir, someone’s filming us!”

She hurriedly grabbed her clothes to cover herself, retreating into Zamir’s arms.

“Who?” Zamir’s gaze turned sharp, his face menacing as his eyes followed hers to the door.

The door swung open, and Sol Smith stepped inside, pocketing her phone.

“Sorry to interrupt your little party.”

“Sol...” Zamir’s expression shifted drastically, anger swiftly replacing shock. “What are you doing here?”

Carly shrank back the moment she saw Sol Smith, nestling deeper into Zamir’s embrace. “Sol Smith, you always show up unexpectedly... Zamir and I were just offering each other comfort. In his heart, he only loves you.”

Sol Smith smirked coldly. “Zamir, we need to talk.”

“Fine. You leave,” Zamir instructed Carly, knowing further denial was pointless after being caught red-handed.

Ten minutes later, Carly exited first.

Meeting Sol Smith’s steely gaze, she flinched, her neck drawing in fearfully. “Sol Smith, Zamir wants to see you now.”

“That anonymous text last night—was it you?”

Carly’s face paled slightly, her eyes evasive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A pawn with no ambition never rises. Guess a mistress without ambition is rare. You’re young, but you’re already aiming high.”

She had nurtured Zamir’s career, only to watch someone else reap the rewards.

“I heard three years ago you were almost assaulted. Left you with some psychological scars?” Carly’s lips curled in contempt. “I don’t mind taking care of Zamir’s needs for you.”

Sol Smith’s heart plummeted. Zamir had shared even her most painful memories with another woman.

She gripped her purse so hard her nails bit into her palm.

Carly stared at her, hoping for a breakdown.

But Sol didn’t give her one. Instead, she let out a faint laugh—and thanked Carly.

“Thank you.”

Thank you for opening her eyes to Zamir’s true nature before the wedding—and for killing whatever lingering attachment she’d had left.

...

Back in the office, Zamir had dressed again and now sat stiffly in his swivel chair, every inch the polished CEO.

“What do you want to discuss?” His voice was hoarse with irritation, his gaze sharp with resentment.

Sol sat across from him, her eyes empty.

“The house and car are mine. I can sell the company shares back to you at market price. And because you saved my life, I’ll give you one last shred of dignity.”

Zamir froze, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “Sol, everything you have came from me. I made a mistake—the kind every man makes—and you’re giving me a death sentence?”

His self-righteousness, his sheer entitlement—it was foreign to her.

Maybe that was the flaw baked into men like him: even when caught, they refused to admit they’d done anything wrong.

“Three years, and you still don’t know me. I’m Sol. I don’t turn a blind eye, and I don’t settle.”

Zamir’s face darkened, his cold gaze cutting into hers. “Are you serious?”