My Husband's Ex Will Never Be My Rival

My husband’s mistress lives in the same building—right down the hall.

The last time we rode the elevator together, I glanced at her swollen belly and the grocery bags hanging from her arms and said generously, “You’re carrying my husband’s child and still taking care of his meals and daily needs. That’s a lot of work—so don’t worry about the rent.”

…

I had leafy greens and radishes in my left hand, chicken and fish in my right, bags upon bags. When I saw the elevator doors about to close, I hurried and called out, “Wait—wait!”

In my slippers, I half-ran, half-shuffled, and squeezed in at the very last second.

There was only one person inside: a stunningly made-up woman dressed to the nines. She lived in 1908. She was also my tenant—an internet-famous livestreamer named Lilian Nash.

I turned to her and greeted her naturally. “Lilian, you’re home early today.”

Her smile was tight, almost forced. “Elena! Sorry—I didn’t see you.”

I chuckled, unconcerned. “It’s fine.”

Her gaze swept over me from head to toe. “Sister Chen… you went grocery shopping looking like this?”

I glanced at the dried bloodstain on my white T-shirt, then turned to face the elevator doors. Ignoring the contempt in her eyes, I stared at my own disheveled reflection and grinned. “Yeah. Clara’s coming home tonight.”

After a moment of silence, she spoke again. “Is that so? Then Mr. Frost will be home early tonight too, won’t he?”

I lowered my lashes, smiling as if I couldn’t help it. “Of course. Julian adores Clara. If she calls him, he’ll come running back—no matter what. That’s what fathers do.”

After a beat, her voice floated from behind me. “Heh. Sounds like their relationship is really close.”

My eyes curved with a smile. “It is. So close I get jealous sometimes, and I’m her mother.” I sighed dramatically. “Too bad…”

“Too bad what?” She asked quickly—too quickly.

My gaze dimmed. I let out a soft, regretful breath. “Too bad Julian likes boys best, and…”

The elevator doors slid open, cutting me off.

A middle-aged woman stepped in, her hair neatly pinned up, her outfit elegant as always. Iris Grove—Unit 2605. Still single. And one of the few people in this complex who actually treated me like a friend.

The moment she saw me, she burst out laughing. “Elena—look at you. Don’t tell me you went to the market again and fought those aunties for the discount meat.”

She walked in without sparing Lilian so much as a glance. Coming straight to my side, she lifted a hand and smoothed my messy hair, like she’d done it a thousand times. “Seriously, was it worth it? You’re Mrs. Frost—the general manager’s wife of Frost Group—and you’re out there wrestling for a few pounds of cheap vegetables and meat, making yourself look like this. Someone who didn’t know you would think you were some crazy woman off the street.”

I pressed the button for our floor, then lifted the chicken in my hand like proof. “Iris, Clara’s coming home today. I got up early just to grab this old hen. I’m making chicken soup tonight. Why don’t you come over—”

Before I could finish, she cut me off. “No, no, no. I’m not being the third wheel in your family reunion.” Then, with a sidelong glance over my shoulder, she added flatly, “Go put yourself together.”

Ding.

Nineteenth floor.

Iris and I stepped aside. Lilian swayed out of the elevator, hips rolling, her posture practically screaming victory.

As soon as the doors shut, Iris clicked her tongue in disgust.

I hid the darkness in my eyes and smiled instead. “What’s with you?”

Iris looked at me like she was carrying a grudge on my behalf. “You…” She swallowed whatever she wanted to say. “Forget it. You’re here.”

I glanced up.

Twenty-second floor.

I hurried out. “I’m going, then!”

Back home, I neatly packed the groceries into the fridge, moving fast. I fried two eggs, arranged the bread I’d bought on a plate, and carried it out to the dining table. Then I ladled out a bowl of the porridge I’d been simmering since morning…