“Is this really what you’re telling me?”

I forced a calm expression, but my voice cracked, and tears blurred my vision.

“Andrew doesn’t want a formal relationship. I’ll do my best to balance things between you two,” she said.

The words stabbed me like knives.

She actually wanted two men to share one wife? My lips trembled. There was no sense in arguing about not being loved. I swallowed the fury, steadied my tone, and said,

“Let’s divorce, then. I’ll make it easy for you.”

She stiffened, panic flickering in her eyes, and shook her head with fierce resolve.

“If I married you, I’ll never divorce you. Never.”

“You were paralyzed for three years after saving me overseas. I’ll spend my whole life repaying you. Just… please don’t make things difficult for Andrew.”

I let out a hollow laugh.

“Repay me? By sleeping with another man?”

Her face went pale. My words crushed her into silence, leaving her staring at the ground in shame.

Finally, she whispered, “I’m sorry. The truth is, I love you and Andrew. I can’t give up either of you.”

The suffocating air broke when her phone rang. She fumbled for it, glanced at the caller ID, and muttered nervously, “I won’t divorce you,” before rushing out.

Of course, it was Andrew.

In front of him, she was obedient, pliant, always at his beck and call.

Everything she once did for me, she now gave it to him.

I told my in-laws about Victoria Hayes’s affair.

They only laughed, brushing it aside:

“Every woman has her secrets, especially rich ones. Don’t worry—the Hayes and Emerson families are bound together. No one can steal your place as the first wife.”

They thought I was pleading for support.

But I was warning them. Once love and loyalty rot, all that’s left is the scramble for profit.

I had never wanted to fight Victoria, yet as the saying goes, even if you starve, you still fight for your dignity.

I would not let a mistress take everything from me.

I threw myself into work at the Hayes Group without pause.

One day, needing a gift for an important client’s birthday, I went to the mall to buy the latest luxury watch.

The clerk carefully boxed it up and smiled.

“Hello, sir. That will be 290,000 dollars.”

I handed over my card.

A moment later, the clerk’s voice faltered.

“Sorry, sir, insufficient balance on this card.”

I froze. This was the unlimited card Victoria had given me five years ago. I hardly used it. Just as I reached for my phone to call her, the sound of polished leather shoes clicked behind me.

“Chris, pack up all your latest models for me.”

It was Andrew Young.

He strode up, exuding arrogance, and glanced at me with contempt before producing a sleek black card.

Victoria’s primary card.

The one with the true unlimited limit.

The card in my hand was only a supplementary one—its balance strictly controlled.

The clerk’s demeanor shifted instantly.

“Mr. Young, your total is 56.8 million.”

With theatrical flourish, he swiped the card, then casually drew a cigarette from his pocket.

The clerk bent over himself like a servant, rushing to light it.

Andrew exhaled a stream of smoke in my direction, eyes gleaming with ridicule.

“Where a woman’s money goes, so does her heart. Imagine walking into a luxury store with no money. Pathetic.”

His smoke stung my face, but I stared back, unflinching. Slowly, I pulled out my phone and spoke into it.

“110? I’d like to report fraudulent use of my wife’s credit card. Please send officers immediately.”

For the first time, Andrew’s expression faltered. His smugness cracked for a brief moment, though he quickly straightened and sneered, trying to recover his composure.

“When Victoria arrives,” he said with icy pride, “she’ll slap you down herself.”

He immediately called Victoria, his voice filled with rage:

“Victoria, your man’s causing trouble again. I’ll give you twenty minutes to get here and put him in his place! If you’re late, we’re finished!”

So brazen—he didn’t care if the world knew he was a mistress. Unlike others who pretended with false innocence, he flaunted it. His very attitude screamed: Yes, I’m a mistress. I’m proud of it. And who can say otherwise?

The police had barely arrived when Victoria rushed in, breathless. She instinctively placed herself in front of Andrew, shielding him, her eyes fixed on me with hostility.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Encouraged by her protection, Andrew swaggered forward, lifted his hand, and struck me across the face.

“You bastard! How dare you call the police on me!”

“I’m spending my woman’s money—it’s natural! What’s it to you?”

His nails cut a bloody mark across my cheek. Still unsatisfied, he lunged again, fists raised.

I raised mine in defense, but two police officers restrained me.

Victoria wrapped her arms around him from behind, her voice soft and coaxing.

“Baby, calm down. Let me handle this, alright?”

He roared like a furious beast, yet she stayed gentle, as though soothing a spoiled child. Not a single harsh word for him.

Instead, she turned to me, frowning, pleading.

“Please, just leave.”

Her stance was clear—against me, protecting him. I was humiliated in front of everyone.

The woman who once swore to love me, who vowed never to let anyone hurt me, now stood with her mistress to trample me. Pain boiled over, and before I knew it, my hand lashed out, striking her.

“You and your mistress are bullying me!”

She didn’t fight back. She absorbed the slap; her face stung, but her heart still leaned toward Andrew.

Outraged, he charged again, shouting:

“You bastard! You dare lay a hand on my woman? I’ll kill you!”

Again, Victoria held him, soothing his anger.

“Okay, okay, it’s fine. Don’t get upset.”

“Then why did he hit you!” he fumed.

Through it all, she clung to him, holding him tight, their bodies pressed together like lovers.

The police stepped between us, finally demanding proof.

“Is the card theft true?” one asked.

Rage surged inside me. I opened PayPal, produced our marriage certificate, and showed it to them.

“We’re legally married. My wife’s card is in another man’s hands. He’s spent over fifty million dollars without my knowledge. If that’s not theft, then what is it?”

Andrew sneered confidently.

“I didn’t steal it. My girlfriend gave it to me! Of course, I can spend her money.”

He turned to Victoria with smug assurance.

“Honey, tell them. Did you give me this card, or did I steal it?”

She froze, her eyes flickering toward me, hesitation breaking through for a single second. That second enraged him. He slapped her arm sharply.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Victoria? Can’t bear to let him go?”

“No, Andrew, don’t get upset,” she soothed, clinging to his waist. Then she faced the police, her voice steady.

“It’s a misunderstanding. I gave him the card. It wasn’t stolen. He has my permission to use it.”

With those words, I became the fool.

The police, realizing this was more emotional conflict than crime, gave us a cold warning.

“Resolve your personal issues properly. Don’t waste police resources.”

As they prepared to leave, Andrew suddenly stopped them, his voice sharp with indignation.

“Don’t go! This man made a false report and damaged my reputation. I’ll hold him fully accountable!”

Victoria tugged his arm, her voice low and coaxing.

“Let it go. Don’t make things worse. Please—for my sake.”

“No! You’re too protective of him. Do you love him more than me?! If that’s the case, then live with him—I’ll just stay out of the way!”

Andrew shrieked and raged, more like a shrew than a man.

I could hardly believe it. The gentle, refined Victoria—betraying me for such a low-class, foul-tempered man?

Yet she trembled, terrified he would leave her, and so she turned on me instead.

“You’re the one at fault here. Go back and reflect on yourself for a few days.”

My heart splintered. The woman before me was a stranger.

Under Andrew’s demand that I be punished for “false reporting” and slander, the police took me in. As they led me to the patrol car, Victoria chased after us, her voice soft with pity.

“Andrew’s words are sharp, but his heart is kind. Next time you see him, just avoid him.”

I met her eyes with cold silence. Words are useless now.

At the station, I called Susan, my father’s trusted lawyer. I told her to slip the divorce agreement into the documents and trick Victoria into signing.

Seven days later, I was finally released. That day happened to be the anniversary of our son’s death.

Every year, Victoria and I went together to his grave. Today, I set aside all resentment. I only wanted our son to see that his mother had not forgotten him.

But the maid whispered that Victoria hadn’t come home in a week—she had been staying with Andrew.

I called her. Instead, Andrew answered, his voice venomous.

“You bastard! What do you want with my woman?!”

I was about to curse him when Susan arrived, holding the signed divorce papers. Victoria had already signed. We were no longer bound. There was no point in arguing.

“Today is the anniversary of her son’s death,” I said coldly. “If you want to tell her, do it. If not, forget it.”

Enraged, Andrew opened a video call.

“See this? Victoria’s son is alive and well. If you dare curse our child again, I’ll beat you to death!”

On screen, Victoria sat at a dining table with two children—a little girl around two, and a boy barely one. A birthday cake glowed before them. Victoria cradled both in her arms.

“Come here, Mommy will give you a hug.”

When she noticed me on the call, she froze, guilt flickering across her face. She didn’t even blame Andrew for showing me.

I was rooted to the floor. Though I had cut ties, the sight gutted me.

During the three years I fought for my life abroad, she and Andrew had two children.

Then Andrew, with cruel delight, twisted the knife.

“Oh, that’s right—you mean your son who died at birth? How unlucky. Today happens to be my and Victoria’s son’s birthday.”

“She has no time for the dead. Go visit alone!”

The call ended with a snap.

Moments later, Victoria sent me a message:

Hubby, you’re so understanding. I’ll visit our son with you tomorrow. Please, believe me—I still love you.

I stared at the words, laughing bitterly.

You never know pain until you’re struck, Victoria. And I will repay you in kind.

Masking my turmoil, I told Susan quietly, “Don’t tell anyone about the divorce. I have other plans.”

That very night, I booked a flight overseas, vanishing completely from her world.

Andrew mocked me online, his posts dripping with scorn:

“Hahaha! Defeated and fleeing in disgrace—what a shameful fall for someone so high and mighty!”

But Victoria panicked. She searched frantically, hiring private investigators across the globe, desperate to find me.

She even issued a bounty, offering thirty percent of Hayes’s shares to anyone who could find me, later raising it to fifty.

But no one responded.

A year later, fate arranged our meeting. At Disneyland, Victoria, with her son and daughter, suddenly ran into me—holding a child of my own.

Her gaze locked onto the infant in my arms. Tears welled in her eyes as she rushed forward.

“Hubby, I finally found you.”

She had no idea I had appeared on purpose—ready to bring them down.