He Chose His Boss, I Chose Revenge

On Valentine’s Day, my husband had yet to return home.

I went to his company, only to catch him on his knees in his female boss’s office.

I froze in place, nausea rising in my chest.

But my husband slowly wiped the corner of his mouth and explained impatiently.

“Don’t misunderstand. Monica Lewis just gave birth—she was feeling uncomfortable, so I had to…”

I cut him off coldly. “Isn’t a breast pump for that?”

The boss, Monica, leisurely buttoned her shirt and clung to Ryan Carter’s arm.

“Machines can’t compare to the warmth of a person. Ryan tried so hard just now—I feel so much better. This time, let him go home early!”

Facing her provocation, I forced down my anger and forced a smile.

“You’re right. I overreacted just now.”

They didn’t know I was plotting something bigger, something that would ruin them completely.

…

“Since today’s Valentine’s Day, I’ll let Ryan go home early. But you probably didn’t cook dinner, right?”

Monica calmly adjusted her clothes.

Her flushed face lifted as she smiled at me.

“Ryan ate well here already. I doubt he can stomach what you made…”

Ryan reached out to touch me, but the strange scent clinging to him made me step back coldly.

He frowned, growing more impatient.

“Can’t you be more generous? Can’t you have some sympathy for a mother?”

“Emily Johnson, Monica is my boss. I can’t just stand by and let her suffer, can I?”

Monica’s syrupy voice rang out as she smugly brushed her fingers across Ryan’s lips.

“Little sister, I felt wonderful just now. When you have a baby, you can let Ryan help you too. He’s a good man—you’ll be happy with him.”

She raised her brows at me triumphantly, as though pushing me toward suspicion.

I looked at her quietly and simply nodded.

By the time we got home, it was nearly midnight. Ryan collapsed into bed, sound asleep.

But I ended up retching violently in the bathroom.

Disgust. Overwhelming disgust.

Monica was ten years older than both me and Ryan, yet she always used the excuse of being “an older sister” to make him do things.

On our wedding day, she happened to give birth.

With a single phone call, she summoned Ryan to the hospital, where he stayed by her side for an entire month—

eating with her, sleeping beside her, washing her body, cleaning up after her.

The nurses at the hospital all thought Ryan was her husband.

I once asked him through tears if I had any place in his heart.

He said,

“Monica’s husband is away for work all year. I’m just helping her on his behalf. Don’t overthink it.”

The day I burned with fever, Ryan was out having dinner with Monica.

Every time I needed him, he was at her house.

My thoughts drifted back to the present.

Looking at the wedding decorations plastered across the house, I let out a bitter laugh.

The bright red symbols I had stayed up late cutting mocked my foolishness.

Numb, I tore them down one by one.

This time, I swore, I would get evidence of their betrayal and expose them completely.

The next day, our company held a team-building event.

When it was time for our group’s yoga performance, Monica insisted on partnering with me, demanding difficult moves.

I didn’t want to agree.

“Monica, your stance isn’t stable. You’re not suited for—”

Before I could finish, Ryan snapped at me.

“Don’t underestimate Monica! She might look fragile, but she’s probably a hundred times stronger than you!”

The air fell silent.

People around us murmured.

“First time I’ve seen a man defend someone else by humiliating his own wife. Incredible.”

I looked at Ryan’s handsome face, sighed helplessly, and endured.

During the performance, Monica deliberately let go, making me crash onto the hard grass below.