The Wife Who Became The Mistress

It had been less than a month since I walked down the aisle, and my millionaire husband was already standing on the edge of a cliff, completely bankrupt. Everyone laughed, calling me a failed opportunist. I didn’t listen to them. I simply handed him every last penny of my savings and told him: “I believe in you, Link.” We spent the next three years living in abject poverty. We were so broke that when my mother was critically ill, my husband, Lincoln’s, shaky business finances couldn't scrape together the $30,000 for her necessary surgery. I watched my mother close her eyes for the last time. I hated myself countless times for failing to borrow the money, but I never once thought to hate him. Not until I saw a team-building video posted by one of his employees. The diamond tennis bracelet I had hesitated for so long to buy for myself—Lincoln’s beautiful secretary, Seraphina, seemed to own dozens of them. The bag resting by her hand required a pre-spend of over $300,000 just to qualify for the waitlist. 1 “Mr. Stone, wasn't that $30,000 originally allocated to Mrs. Stone? Why did it suddenly get paid out as a bonus to Seraphina?” I heard the accountant’s voice drifting from the office. I held my breath, my eyes stinging, straining to catch every sound from inside. Lincoln Stone’s laugh was casual, almost bored: “I told her I wanted to buy it for her, and she refused. “She said I’d already spent over two million on her and was turning her into my ‘trophy wife.’ “She was exactly thirty grand short for that Birkin bag, and she insisted on earning it herself. “If I route it to her as a bonus, it’s not a gift from me. That way, she’ll be happier.” I nearly collapsed. My mother's life savings—the money that could have paid for the surgery—was instantly rerouted to Seraphina, just to cover the cost of a bag and placate her ridiculous vanity? And what about my mother? Wasn't Lincoln still struggling just to keep the company afloat? Where, exactly, did that “two million” even come from? “But Mr. Stone, the company has been out of the woods for a while now. We could spare an extra thirty grand for your wife, too. Why did you have to transfer her thirty grand to Seraphina?” Lincoln sighed: “Sera wanted to take a trip a while back, but Vivian snatched the last first-class ticket on the cross-country train. “Sera missed the chance to see the sunrise at the Grand Canyon and was upset for ages. “This, now, is my way of compensating her for what Vivian ‘owes’ her.” A bitter, hysterical laugh caught in my throat. The day I booked that last ticket? That was the very day my mother's critical condition notice was delivered. I hadn't told him. I hadn't wanted to interfere with his work. But a ticket purchase, a matter of speed and luck, was suddenly my fault? I owed Seraphina, simply because she was a step too slow? “Oh? Sis, what are you doing here?” Seraphina's heels clicked directly behind me. The voices inside the office abruptly ceased. 2 “Vivian?” Lincoln opened the door and instantly gripped my arm. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of your mom? Why are you here?” I fixed my eyes on his. “She’s gone.” His breath hitched. “Why?” “We were $30,000 short for the surgery. We couldn't raise it.” The accountant sharply inhaled, looking reflexively toward Lincoln. I saw a flicker of genuine shock—and something like terror—in Lincoln’s eyes. “How could this happen…?” Watching his belated, self-centered regret, my first impulse was to slap him. I wanted to scream, to demand why he gave that money to Seraphina over my dying mother—all for a ridiculous purse and a childish principle. But I realized I didn't have the leverage. All my money had been poured into Mom's previous treatments. I couldn’t even afford the funeral. My substantial savings had been handed over to him, to the very last cent, when he was bankrupt years ago. Now, I had to rely on this man to cover the cost of my mother's burial! Seeing my jaw clenched and tears finally escaping, Lincoln quickly wiped my cheeks. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything. Even if my finances are tight right now, I’ll spare no expense.” Even now, he was still pretending to be poor… “That’s right, Sis. Even though Mr. Stone is going through a rough patch, he’ll definitely do everything he can.” A hand reached out to grasp mine. My gaze dropped to the thick gold band on Seraphina’s ring finger. She hastily pulled her hand back, her smile tight and anxious. And I understood. That ring, too, had been purchased by Lincoln. Perhaps out of guilt, Lincoln insisted on a lavish funeral. He even took the entire week off work. He was constantly by my side. On the day of the burial, I thought I had my emotions under control, but the moment I saw my mother’s portrait, my tears broke like a dam. He stood next to me, frequently glancing down at his phone. Only when a relative approached him would he belatedly tuck the phone away and compose a temporary expression of sadness. “Vivian, something urgent came up at the office. I have to rush over immediately.” He squeezed my hand hard as he said it. “I’ll come back to pick you up when I’m done.” Then he turned and hurried away from the service. The last time he’d rushed like that, he was on his way to see me. I didn't try to stop him. I pulled out my phone and clicked on the profile labeled @WinterSolstice. Sure enough, a new photo had just been posted. It was a shot of a floor-to-ceiling window in a luxury high-rise overlooking the city lights, with empty wine bottles scattered across the marble floor. @WinterSolstice: If I just pretended to be sad and helpless, would you look at me more? The post tagged a user: @Linc_NYC. Linc. Lincoln. Winter Solstice. Seraphina. I couldn't recall the trembling state I was in when I first found this account and pressed ‘Follow.’ It was only so I could track the miserable progress of their affair. Later that evening, after the service had ended, the account updated again. It was a selfie of a woman being held tightly around the waist by a man. The woman’s cropped top perfectly outlined her figure. The delicate chain around her collarbone was long enough to wrap around her waist. Her face was hidden. But the hand resting on her hip was wearing the wedding band I knew too well. The caption: @WinterSolstice: I knew you would never leave me alone. @Linc_NYC had liked the post. His comment: The people who love you won’t let you suffer. A quiet, low laugh escaped me. I stood alone in the empty funeral hall. A cold wind blew through. It felt as though the entire world contained only me. And behind me, my mother’s portrait. Lincoln never came back to pick me up. It wasn't until night had fallen and the funeral home was deserted that he finally called. “Vivian, the company issue got complicated, and then I had to go straight to a press conference. “I got delayed, sweetheart. I’m sorry. “I’ll be done in maybe two hours. Then I’ll come get you, I promise.” I smiled, sitting in the back of a taxi. “Don’t bother. I have a gift for you.” “What?” On the phone, the live broadcast of his press conference was playing. The massive screen behind Lincoln suddenly switched. The sounds that followed were sickening and unmistakable. The massive bed in the river-view luxury high-rise. Two familiar figures entangled in a desperate, brutal embrace. 3 A week earlier, the moment I found the @WinterSolstice account, I began preparing for this day. After my mother’s burial, I finally had the time and mental clarity to deal with them. I am not the kind of woman who swallows betrayal. I wanted revenge—a ruin so public, so devastating, that these two would be disgraced beyond recovery! There was no better opportunity than a live press conference. By the time I arrived, the lobby was already a scene of absolute chaos. Reporters had abandoned questions about corporate finance and shifted entirely to Lincoln’s affair with Seraphina. The moment they saw me, the crowd parted, creating an aisle straight to the stage. “Vivian Stone?” Lincoln looked at me, utterly disbelieving. Seraphina cowered behind him, her face etched with panic. “Sis…” Smack! I landed a savage slap across her face. Lincoln frowned. “Vivian Stone!” Smack! The second slap landed hard on his own cheek. He looked at me, completely bewildered. “Where did you send that $30,000?” Lincoln's breathing hitched. “You… you know?” Smack! The third slap. “Do you have any idea that we were only $30,000 short! With that money, my mother would still be alive!” At the mention of the woman who had cared for him in his orphaned childhood, Lincoln looked down, silent. The reporters, smelling blood, surged forward. “Ms. Stone, what $30,000 are you referring to? Can you elaborate?” “You want to know?” I made a gesture. The large screen behind the stage quickly changed. “Then take a good, long look.” I had compiled everything over the past week into a professional, devastating slide deck. “This thirty thousand dollars was originally allocated by my husband for my mother’s surgery, but his secretary…” “That’s enough!” My mouth was instantly covered by his hand. Lincoln viciously kicked the large screen, shattering half the panel. “Lincoln Stone! Let go of me!” He had my wrist in an iron grip, pulling me without a word toward the private elevator. Inside the CEO’s office, he slammed the door shut and flung me onto the leather sofa. “You recorded those videos?” I gave a cold laugh. “Yes. What about it? “Did you honestly think I didn’t hear that conversation with your accountant? “I went straight home and started digging up Seraphina’s address. “Mr. Stone, you have a deep reserve of wealth to buy a secretary a luxury high-rise, but you still keep your wife living in a cramped rental apartment!” “Stop it!” Lincoln’s chest rose and fell in ragged gasps. “You don’t understand! She was the one who was there during my hardest days. “She stayed up late with me, monitored the financial reports, and met with clients! “Now that I’m successful, isn’t it right for me to reward her?” I thought I misheard him. “She was there for you? What about me?” Lincoln paused. “Lincoln Stone, was she the one who gave you the seed money after your bankruptcy? “Was she the one who refused to give up your location to the debt collectors, even when they came looking for you? “Was she the one who had a knife held to her side by those collectors? Did she give you every cent of her savings? Who was the person who was squeezing into that tiny rental with you, eating instant ramen, her or me!” Lincoln opened his mouth. He ultimately avoided my gaze. I forced a painful smile. “Don’t want to answer? “Fine, I’ll help you. She did not! From start to finish, the only person who walked through the worst of it with you was me!” “Enough!” He roared, startling me with its sudden fury. He glared down at me. “You’re only saying all this to remind me how much you sacrificed, aren’t you? “I was worried you’d try to cash in, that you’d find out I’d rebuilt my fortune and start demanding a massive payoff! “That would destroy our relationship, which is why I kept everything from you. “But Seraphina is different! Even after I’ve spent two million on her, she still wants to earn that thirty thousand herself! “Do you understand now? That is the difference between you two, and that is why I favor her and have to keep my guard up around you.” I laughed, the sound sharp and unexpected. “So, you thought I married you as a greedy investment?” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Weren’t you?” I turned away, using a bitter smile to hide the burning tears. “Fine. Let’s say I was only after your money. “Then, Lincoln, do you honestly believe a normal woman would sleep with the husband of the person who saved her life?” Lincoln’s breath caught. He must have remembered. Without me, Seraphina would have died in that alley, likely at the hands of those thugs. 4 Seraphina was beautiful. The kind of delicate, helpless beauty that made men feel protective and immediately drawn in. From childhood, she had been constantly harassed. Until the day I walked into that dark alley alone, armed with nothing but a steel pipe. I came out with a fractured lower leg and blood on my mouth. Seraphina, though hysterical and crying, was otherwise unharmed. From then on, she was my loyal “little sister.” I believed in seeing things through, so I introduced her to Lincoln’s company. Lincoln hated incompetence. He complained more than once about how I had saddled him with a “dead weight.” It took constant cajoling and flirting on my part to stop him from firing Seraphina. Without that job, Seraphina would have been sold off to the middle of nowhere by her drunken, abusive father. Then, Lincoln went bankrupt. We were consumed by the daily anxiety of rent and groceries. We no longer had the energy to fight over a “dead weight” employee. But I never imagined that during our hardest, most emotionally exhausting days, Seraphina was never truly struggling. The savings I gave Lincoln to keep the company from sinking? A large portion of it was also used to ensure “Secretary Sera” remained insulated from the company’s bankruptcy. “Name your price. What will it take for you to leave her alone?” Lincoln’s voice was completely devoid of emotion. I stared at him, a cold laugh escaping. “I don’t want your money. “I want her reputation ruined and her life destroyed!” He frowned. “Impossible.” “Lincoln Stone, are you really protecting her this fiercely?” A complex look crossed his eyes. “But you’re too late.” A sudden burst of shouting and crying erupted outside the office door. Lincoln’s head snapped up. “Sera!” He yanked the door open. Seraphina was being dragged across the floor by her hair, her mother—a woman I knew well—slamming her hand against Seraphina’s face over and over. “You little tramp! You can pull this disgusting stunt, but your mother won’t lose face for you!” “Auntie!” Panic flashed in Lincoln’s eyes. Seraphina’s mother, Mrs. Peterson, roared back: “Don’t you come near me! This is my daughter, and my discipline. It has nothing to do with you!” “Mom, I…” “Shut up! Have you forgotten who saved you, and who broke her leg because of you! You could have chosen any man, but you had to choose to be a mistress, didn’t you!” She finished with two more hard slaps, instantly swelling Seraphina’s lip. Camera flashes exploded in a rapid sequence. Reporters recorded the entire scene. Mrs. Peterson and I had kept in contact after I saved Seraphina. I always stopped by to see her on holidays. “Slut! How did I give birth to such a tramp! You love being the other woman so much? Wait until I’m dead, then you can do whatever you want!” She turned, making a move toward the large window, as if to jump. Seraphina was frantic, but couldn’t catch her mother in time. “Auntie!” Lincoln roared, “Sera is not a mistress!” Mrs. Peterson stopped, turning back. A bright red marriage certificate was snatched up from the desk. Lincoln opened it. His and Seraphina’s wedding photo, sealed with a crisp, clear stamp. “Seraphina and I are legally married. “Vivian Stone is the real mistress.”

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