My husbands mistress
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His Unwanted Wife, The Hidden Genius
I flew back to New York on my twenty-fifth birthday, carrying vintage gold cufflinks I spent weeks finding for my billionaire husband, Declan. But when I walked into our townhouse, I found him throwing a massive victory party with Sloane, a glamorous socialite, standing by his side as the proud hostess. "Don't cause a scene. Go upstairs." Declan coldly dismissed me in front of his guests. Even Poppy, the rookie player whose shattered ankle I had painstakingly rebuilt, rolled her eyes and ignored me to suck up to Sloane. Hiding in the shadows, I heard the maids gossiping that everyone thought Sloane was the future Mrs. Hartford. To make matters worse, I discovered Sloane had stolen my anonymous, groundbreaking medical algorithm and was planning to present it as her own. First my husband, then the girl I mentored like family, and now the scientific foundation I had built with my own hands. Declan even texted me to cancel our birthday breakfast without a single apology, treating me like an annoying afterthought. My tears vanished, replaced by a freezing clarity. I signed the divorce papers, leaving them on his desk with zero demands for his money. Then I packed my bags, booked a one-way ticket to Boston, and prepared to destroy them on the global stage.
Chapter 1
Aurelia Vance POV:
I had been married to Declan Hartford for three years.
Today was my twenty-fifth birthday, and I had flown back from Boston in secret, hoping for one quiet evening with my husband.
I'd spent a week carefully picking out a pair of gold cufflinks as a gift for my husband.
But the laughter spilling from the front door told me I was already too late: the woman who had taken my place at his side was already inside.
The heavy oak door swung open before I reached the porch. Three young players from the New York Titans, Declan's NHL franchise, stumbled out with crystal tumblers of scotch, laughing loudly. They barely glanced at me as they passed.
I stepped into the grand foyer. The heat hit me instantly,expensive champagne, roasted tenderloin, cigar smoke.
Dozens of people filled the double parlor: executives, scouts, wives in designer dresses.
In the center stood Declan, tall and broad in a bespoke charcoal suit. Beside him, laughing into his ear, was Sloane Whitfield, her backless silver dress catching the chandelier light. Her hand rested on his forearm like she belonged there.
Before I could take another breath, a blur of blonde hair darted past my elbow.
"Sloane!" Poppy Delacroix cried, throwing her arms around Sloane's slender waist. "You were completely right about the catering! This is literally the best victory party the team has ever had!"
Poppy is fourteen, a junior elite forward prospect.
I scouted her two years ago from a crumbling youth league, back when she was at her lowest.
Her parents had once shown me great kindness, and I knew they had already passed away, leaving her all alone in the world.
Declan and I adopted her together.
I rebuilt her shattered ankle with a custom rehabilitation plan.
I had always loved and cared for her as both a mother and a sister.
Now, she did not even glance in my direction.
Declan turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd until his eyes locked onto mine. The easy grin on his sharp jaw vanished instantly. His brows drew together in a hard, irritated line.
He excused himself from Sloane, cutting through the throng of players with long, impatient strides.
"Aurelia," Declan said, stopping two feet in front of me. His voice carried zero warmth. "What are you doing here?"
My throat felt like sandpaper.
"I took the four o'clock flight from Boston," I whispered, clutching the strap of my bag until my knuckles turned white. "It is my birthday, Declan. I thought we could—"
"We are celebrating the division win," he cut in, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. "The board is here. The sponsors are here. Sloane spent four consecutive days coordinating this event so the organization could project stability."
He did not look at me. His gaze slid past my shoulder to the bar, like I was a waitress who had wandered into the wrong room.
"Don't cause a scene," he added quietly. "Go upstairs."
A soft, mocking murmur rippled through a cluster of players' wives standing near the grand staircase. Two women with platinum blowouts exchanged knowing glances over their flutes of Dom Pérignon.
"I didn't know," I said, my voice barely audible over the swelling music. "I am sorry."
I turned toward the staircase, my legs trembling beneath my wool trousers.
Near the landing, Poppy was adjusting her designer jacket in the hallway mirror.
"Poppy," I said softly, pausing beside her. "How is your ankle feeling after Thursday's third period? Did you complete the isometric sequence I sent?"
Poppy rolled her eyes, sighing loudly as she pulled out her phone.
"Aurelia, please, not right now," she muttered without looking at me. "Sloane is introducing me to a marketing director from one of our partners. I don't have time for your spreadsheets."
The dismissive edge in her voice hit me harder than Declan's coldness. I had stayed up until three in the morning reviewing her biomechanical scans while she was recovering from surgery, and now I was just an annoyance in the way of her social ascent.
I walked up the rest of the stairs and entered the primary suite—the massive, sterile bedroom allocated to me under our prenuptial agreement.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled out the velvet box. The gold cufflinks gleamed under the bedside lamp, cold and useless.
Downstairs, cheers erupted. The sound vibrated through the floorboards.
I walked to the French doors overlooking the rear garden. Down on the illuminated patio, Sloane was directing two servers by an ice sculpture. Declan stood beside her, his head bent down as he listened to her speak, his hand casually brushing the small of her back.
They looked like the couple the city expected them to be.
My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I pulled it out, hoping against hope.
It was an email notification.
"Happy Birthday, Aurelia. Remember that true science requires patience and solitude. You are meant for greater arenas than New York boardrooms. -Dr. Edmund Sterling."
My mentor at Harvard was the only person in the world who had remembered.
I typed a brief "Thank you, Professor" and shut off the screen.
Hours passed. The bass eventually quieted, replaced by the occasional clatter of glassware and slamming car doors. My throat burned with thirst.
At two in the morning, I padded downstairs in my stocking feet to fetch a glass of water from the butler's pantry.
As I rounded the corner near the service hallway, the voices of two newly hired catering maids stopped me dead in my tracks.
"Miss Whitfield is stunning," the first girl whispered, scraping dessert plates into a bin. "Mr. Hartford's girlfriend carries herself like royalty."
"A girlfriend?" the other asked, pausing. "But isn't Mr. Hartford rumored to be married? Is it inappropriate to be this close with Whitfield?"
"Married?Where did that come from? Even if there was one, they must have split long ago. I've worked three events here this month, and Miss Whitfield is the only woman hosting by his side. Everyone knows she's the future Mrs. Hartford."
I shrank back into the cold shadow of the archway, my blood turning to ice.
In the home where I held a legal marriage certificate, my presence had already been wiped clean.
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My Husband's Mistress Invited Me to Coffee After Getting Pregnant
Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, the tenth anniversary of Ellie's Sweet Sensations, my beloved bakery. But amidst the flash of cameras and Dan's charming politician's smile, a cold knot tightened in my stomach. Late-night texts, a mysterious credit card charge from a boutique I'd never heard of, "Jolie's"... then I heard it, Dan cooing "Love you too, Maddie" into the phone. The perfect facade cracked; my husband was having an affair. The betrayal was bad enough, but then she popped up – Maddie Bell, young, blonde, influencer – flaunting my husband online. Vacation photos, the same necklace from Jolie's, and always always right next to my husband. Then I caught wind of THEIR baby. My carefully constructed world started crumbling as I came to terms with the stark reality: He wasn't just cheating; he was building a whole new life with her. I baked him that cake for our anniversary, knowing I'd soon be but a memory. Then, the ultimate slap – he was going to take Maddie home to meet his parents. The next day, she was at my doorstep feigning sympathy while my world burned. I couldn't stay with all of this on my plate. Not even for Liam. So I plotted my escape, a theatrical end: a staged car accident with me declared the victim. What kind? The one he causes. Was this revenge or survival? I thought it was both. But what would my story have in store? I started by documenting the full account of his disgusting deed in a diary I knew he would stumble on post-"mortem."
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My Husband's Mistress Hired Me
I was a top underground fixer and the wife of the most ruthless Mafia Capo in New York. I managed his money, built his empire, and spent countless nights waiting in terror for him to survive bloody turf wars. But one night, a desperate woman hired my encrypted network, begging for advice because her mafia protector was pulling away. When I looked at the photos she sent, my blood ran cold. The man she was crying over was my husband. He lied to my face, claiming he was busy with dangerous Family business and ignoring my texts. Yet, through the surveillance footage the woman sent me, I watched my ruthless husband stand in the pouring rain until dawn. The man who treated me like a servant was groveling like a beggar, clutching imported medicine and food, pleading with a civilian to open her door. "I will never leave you unprotected again," he promised her. I had bled my own inheritance dry to cover his careless mistakes, only for him to give his devotion to an outsider. He took my loyalty for granted, assuming I would always sit in our empty penthouse waiting for him. I realized my intellect and ambition were never meant to be buried for a man who didn't respect me. So, I logged into the Cayman Island banking portal and revoked his access to millions in offshore accounts. I took off my gold Famiglia signet ring, packed my bags, and left his territory forever.
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Me & My Beast Husbands
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My mistress
"You are so rude! Are you really flirting in the office? Are you going to fool me again?" I screamed. "You." I faced my sister again. "I'm your sister, i aren't ? Why did you do that to my husband? How did you do this, SISTER?" I stress the word 'sister'. "My sister! You should be my sympathizer in
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My husband's mistress
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My Wife Is My Mistress
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my husband's mistress
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To my husband's mistress
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My Husband Mistress
"You are so rude! Are you really flirting in the office? Are you going to fool me again?" I screamed. "You." I faced my sister again. "I'm your sister, i aren't ? Why did you do that to my husband? How did you do this, SISTER?" I stress the word 'sister'. "My sister! You should be my sympathizer in
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My Vengeful Husbands Demand A Remarriage
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I died in the apocalypse, only to wake up as Kenzie Banks, a bankrupt high-society monster in an interstellar beast-world. But before I could even process my new reality, a cold AI voice informed me of my impending death. "Your contract beast-husbands possess the legal right to execute you at the
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Reborn To Swap Husbands With My Sister
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Love's Reel Betrayal, My Billionaire Husbands Return
On the night of Natalie's biggest achievement...winning the Actress Award....her world came crashing down. Just as she stood in the spotlight, soaking in the applause, Richard, the man she once loved, walked up and handed her divorce papers in front of everyone. The gasps from the audience drowned o
My Husband's Mistress Hired Me
I was a top underground fixer and the wife of the most ruthless Mafia Capo in New York. I managed his money, built his empire, and spent countless nights waiting in terror for him to survive bloody turf wars. But one night, a desperate woman hired my encrypted network, begging for advice because h
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My Secretary Is The Mistress
Helen James arrives at Cole Designs with quiet determination and a promise to herself never to mix emotions with work. Raised by a disciplined mother who taught her resilience, she believes success comes only through focus and sacrifice. Her first meeting with the company's powerful CEO, Cole Lucas,
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A Mistress To My StepDaddy
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My Alpha's Mistress, My Son's Unmarked Grave
On the fourth anniversary of my son's death, I went to the Pack Archives to perform a soul-soothing ritual for his spirit. But the records showed a truth I couldn't comprehend. My mate, Alpha Damien, had another child—a secret son with the she-wolf he'd sworn was just a crazed stalker. He lied
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"I’m done with this nonsense. I can no longer stay in this kind of setup. I’m exhausted, Kai; it’s always the same. You only come back to me when you and she fight. What am I to you? Oh yeah, I forgot, I’m only second to that cursed heart of yours. Why can’t you just choose me? What does she have th
