The Mistress Mistook My Identity

I was having afternoon tea, scrolling through my phone, when an unexpected post caught my eye.

[My son is a future Greenwich legacy with a trust fund that already includes 8 luxury condos and 3 commercial properties in SoHo!]

[His dad just added 0-050,000 worth of gold bullion, too. Any perfect little future daughters-in-law out there?]

The post was gaining serious tractionthousands of likes and comments. I initially dismissed it as another obnoxious flex until I zoomed in on the photos.

I froze.

Those condos and commercial properties? Werent those my dowry when I married my husband, Graham?

And the gold bullionit was clearly engraved with my daughters initials

How, in the span of a few years, had all of it become this strangers sons property?

...

I checked the addresses on the storefronts in the picture again and again. They were three adjacent boutiques in SoHo that my parents had specifically purchased as a wedding gift.

They told me to treat them as my future, my financial safety net.

And the gold was unmistakable. Id personally overseen the engraving of my daughter's initials on the side.

My fingers flew across the screen. Are you sure these items are yours?

The phone vibrated immediately. The poster was practically a botshe replied in seconds.

Its not mine, then whose is it, yours?

She followed up with several more photos: a woman in head-to-toe designer clothes, holding a newborn, surrounded by mountains of gold and high-end jewelry.

Before I could process the images, she sent another barrage of messages.

Im looking for a daughter-in-law, not a nanny.

I looked at your profile. Your daughter wont cut it, sweetie.

The blatant malice made my mind go blank.

The comments section exploded.

OMG, the poster is a queen! She shut down that jealous hater!

Seriously, people just accuse others of lying because they don't have it themselves. LOL!

Someone even screenshotted a photo of my five-year-old daughter, Dahlia, from my profile and captioned it: The poster is right, that girl is... unfortunate looking. Imagine trying to use your kid to climb the social ladder!

Give up, peasant. The young master doesn't want your little housemaid!

My breathing hitched, and my phone nearly slipped from my grasp.

Dahlia is five, the light of my life, the absolute center of my and Grahams world. And I hadnt posted her photo looking for a future marriage partner.

How dare they say those things?

I quickly took screenshots and sent them to my husbands family group chat. How did my property become someone else's?

Silence followed for a few tense seconds.

Then, my mother-in-law's voice memo popped up. "Rory, all these things are yours. Did someone steal your photos and try to use them to show off online?"

"Oh, the internet is full of crazy people. You need to be more careful, dear."

Before I could respond, Graham texted me. Honey, you must have posted photos before, and someone used an AI program to deep-fake them onto their own posts.

I already warned the poster and told her to delete it. Don't worry about it.

He attached a screenshot of his direct message to the poster: Hello, these photos are a violation of intellectual property and privacy. Please delete them immediately, or we will pursue legal action.

I clicked the link. The post was gone. That was quick.

I stared at the screen, typed a simple Okay into the group chat, and then put my phone down.

"Driver," I said, looking up, "take me to Mercer Street."

Grahams explanation sounded plausible. AI is everywhere now; synthesizing photos is easy.

But I knew one thing for certain: I had never posted photos of those specific storefronts, nor had I ever photographed the custom-engraved gold.

And what were the chances of a "deepfake" being this accurate? The exact addresses, the exact amount of gold, and the exact engraving?

The car pulled up outside the SoHo boutiques. I pushed the door open and looked up at the three properties.

The glass doors of what had been a long-term tenanta high-end apparel storewere shattered, and the interior was undergoing a full renovation. It looked like they were setting up a florist shop.

My brows furrowed. The original tenant had a ten-year lease that wasn't up yet. How could they have been replaced? And why hadn't Graham mentioned any of this?

I hurried toward the building and called out to one of the workers. "Who authorized this construction?"

A woman in a crisp Chanel suit emerged from the storefront. She looked me up and down, her voice sharp and arrogant. "My store, my decision. Who the hell are you to give me orders?"

I stared at her face, my heart doing a heavy slam in my chest. It was her. The poster.

My jaw tightened. "These three properties are mine. How are they yours?"

She paused, then burst out laughing. "Yours? My husband gifted these to me!"

She pulled a phone from her Louis Vuitton bag and tapped the screen. "Open your eyes and look at whose name is on this deed!"

On the screen, three property deeds were side-by-side. The owner's name: Delia Prince.

A buzzing started in my head. It was impossible to transfer ownership without my signature. I had checked my safety deposit box before leaving the houseall the real property deeds were there, though the gold bullion was missing.

Her deeds were likely fake. But the fact that she could drive away a long-term tenant with a fake deed could only mean one thing: Graham was involved.

Seeing my silence, the woman, Delia, suddenly drew out an "Oh." "You must be that apparel store owner, right?"

"My husband already told you. I liked the space, and he gave you a fat compensation check. Why are you causing a scene? Are you greedy for more?"

I took a deep breath, pointed at the man in my phones wallpaper, and asked, "Is this your husband?"

Delia leaned in for a closer look, and her face instantly turned a sickly green.

She shrieked, pointing at me. "How dare you use my husband's photo as your wallpaper!"

"My husband is the CEO of the Leighton Group! Do you think a fantasy girl like you could ever get close to him?"

"Let me warn you! I just gave him a beautiful, healthy son! His mother is over the moon! You should just give up now!"

People had stopped walking, drawn by the commotion. An absurd feeling surged from my feet to my head, and I couldn't help but laugh.

The Leighton Group? My father founded it and put Graham in charge! When did it become his company?

Even more grotesquely, it was now clear that Grahams motherthe one who had always acted so loving toward meknew he was seeing this woman. She had even approved of my daughters gold being given to Delia.

But no one gets to spend my money on their mistress.

I snapped back to reality and, without thinking, raised my hand and slapped her hard. "Who are you calling a mistress?"

Delia was stunned, covering her cheek and staring at me.

I glared at her. "You're a mistress and you don't even know it? Is that supposed to be honorable?"

"Im telling you to stop construction immediately! Or Im calling the police!"

The gathering crowd was buzzing, pointing fingers at Delia.

"Whoa, it's the wife beating up the mistress!"

"The mistress isn't even as pretty as the wife. What was that guy thinking?"

Delia finally reacted, lunging forward and grabbing my hair. "Im the mistress?! My husband and I have been married for three years! We just had a baby! His mother even named our son!"

"Don't let this liar fool you!"

As we struggled, I saw the gold necklace around her neck. It was one of the custom pieces from the missing gold, the one my Dahlia loved most.

A blind fury took over. I ripped the necklace off her neck. "How dare you wear my daughter's property!"

"You don't deserve it!"

Caught off guard, Delia stumbled, crashing to the ground. The sharp edges of the necklace left a bloody scrape on her neck.

I hadn't intended to fight in public, but seeing my property so brazenly stolen made the rage impossible to swallow.

I held up the necklace and declared, every word a hammer blow, "This is engraved with my daughter Dahlias initials! You and Graham Prescott can expect to hear from my lawyer!"

Before the words fully left my mouth, a heavy impact hit me from behind. I lost my balance, and the necklace was snatched from my hand.

Grahams furious voice exploded over my head. "Who says those are your daughter's initials?!"

I was sprawled on the ground, my knee screaming from the broken glass. I gasped in pain.

Looking up, I saw Graham shielding Delia in his arms. Behind him, my mother-in-law stood holding an infant.

There was no doubt. That was Grahams illegitimate son.

My mother-in-law had claimed she was too inexperienced to help with Dahlia, preferring to hire an expensive nanny, supposedly to protect my daughter. Now I knew the truth: she simply preferred grandsons.

Before I could react, Graham turned to me, his eyes filled with sheer disgust. "Aurora Leighton!"

"Get out before you cause any more trouble! And don't you dare touch my wife!"

Wife? Graham was publicly admitting his adultery.

Ignoring my shock, he gently fixed the necklace back around Delia's neck, his eyes full of concern. "Honey, are you hurt?"

"You just gave birth; you can't get worked up. Does your stomach hurt?"

Delia leaned into his chest, sobbing. "Graham, she says the properties you gave me are hers, and she stole the necklace you bought me!"

"Who who is she?"

Graham glanced at me, his expression cold and dismissive. "I told you about the employee at the office who kept harassing me? That's her."

"I'll handle this. Don't worry."

With that, the onlookers gasped, their expressions shifting to contempt.

"Oh, so shes the desperate office mistress. I knew no man would leave his wife for someone uglier."

"Trying to steal another woman's husband and vandalize her store. Youre sick."

"Why is she so possessive of other people's stuff? Shouting yourself hoarse won't make it yours."

I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. I looked at Graham, speaking slowly and deliberately. "Graham, those initials are for our daughter, Dahlia Prescott. You had them engraved! What are you talking about?"

He scowled at me. "Who told you that?"

"The 'D.P.' stands for Delia Prince and Prescott. Its the initial of my wife and my name."

What?

My head reeled. Delia and Prescott? He had told me Dahlia's initials were a representation of my maiden name and his family namethe physical proof of our union.

It meant that they had been together since the moment Dahlia was born. Worse, even my daughters initials were a twisted celebration of his relationship with Delia.

I took a deep breath, pulled the real property deeds from my bag, and slapped them against his chest. "Graham Prescott, my dowry is not marital property. This is my final warning: Get your mistress out of my stores!"

"And return my daughters gold, down to the last gram!"

Graham hadn't expected me to bring the deeds. He froze, then viciously ripped them into shreds and threw the paper to the ground. "Anyone can forge a few sheets of paper. What does this prove?"

My mother-in-law rushed forward. "Just leave, Rory. It's almost the holidays. We won't press charges."

"You won't press charges?" I found my voice.

She flushed, then jutted out her chin. "Yes! Now, go! Or do you want to be thrown out?"

Graham took a step closer to me, lowering his voice to a hiss. "Aurora, I told you in the group chat to let this go."

"Delia just gave the Prescott family a male heir. My mother is ecstatic. If you escalate this, and she ends up in the hospital, what then?"

"Just go home now, and you can still be my wife, Mrs. Prescott."

I used to be obsessed with the scent of his cologne. Now, it made me sick.

Just then, a small voice called out from the edge of the crowd. "Mommy!"

My body went rigid. I whipped my head around.

Dahlia, in her school uniform and backpack, was being led through the onlookers by our driver.

"Mommy, why are you on the ground?" Seeing the blood on my knee, her eyes welled up. "Mommy, you're hurt!"

My stomach dropped. I tried to stand up to stop her, but it was too late.

Delia recognized her instantly. She grabbed Dahlia's shoulder and screamed, "So it's you!"

Then she spun and delivered a brutal slap across my face. "You know your ugly daughter isn't good enough for my son, so you try to seduce my husband?!"

The force of the blow made my ears ring.

Dahlia immediately burst into tears, looking helplessly at Graham. "Daddy... why is she hitting Mommy...?"

Delia pointed at her and roared, "Who are you calling Daddy?"

"My post looking for a daughter-in-law was a joke! A poverty-stricken girl like you will never marry my son!"

Dahlia was sobbing loudly, but Graham only frowned. "Driver, take your mother back."

Seeing me frozen, he gave the driver a look, and the driver immediately tried to pull me away. "Honey, let's go! Don't make a scene!"

What?

Hearing this, the onlookers started whispering and pointing at Dahlia.

"Oh my God, her own father is right here, and she's calling another man 'Daddy.' That little girl is a gold-digger already!"

"The mother is a dream-girl, the daughter is a wannabe social climber. What a pathetic pair."

"She's so young, and her mom is already trying to marry her into a rich family. What kind of mother is that?"

Dahlia is only five, but she could understand the cruelty in their words. She looked at Graham, her face dissolving into tears. "Daddy, do you not want Mommy and me anymore?"

Graham didn't answer.

Dahlia stared at him, biting her lip, her face crumpling with hurt.

I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight, and looked up at Graham. Every word was infused with ice. "Graham Prescott, aren't you worried my parents will hear about this?"

The mention of my parents made him visibly flinch. But he quickly suppressed a small, nervous laugh. "I told you, they've been 'traveling abroad for fun' for five years and haven't come back."

"Don't you think I've figured it out?" he continued. "I know they weren't traveling. They fled."

"Think about it. The Leighton Group is huge. How could your dad have built it up all by himself? He must have done something shady."

"Giving the money he left behind to Delia and my son? I'm just helping to relieve their guilt."

The realization hit me. He thought I was vulnerable because he believed my parents were fugitives who had abandoned me.

He didn't know that my parents had been abroad for five years opening a major international divisionwhich was now worth hundreds of millions.

And today was the day they were returning home.

I had texted them my location before leaving. They should be close.

With that thought, I pulled Dahlia to her feet. "Dahlia, Mommy is taking you home. If Daddy wants to be someone else's father, let him."

My daughter was in shock. Until today, Graham and his mother had showered her with affection at home. She cried, shaking her head stubbornly. "Daddy"

The next moment, Delia shoved my daughter toward the street like a madwoman. "Are you a beggar? Crying on someone else's property!"

Dahlia, small and slight, stumbled onto the road. A small car was speeding toward us. I didn't hesitate; I lunged for her. "Dahlia!"

Seeing my daughter nearly hit, Graham and his mother looked panicked. Graham lifted his foot to follow, but Delia grabbed his arm. "Graham my incision hurts so badly I think you made my stitches tear"

Hearing her words, Graham stopped immediately. He gently pulled her into a hug. "Don't be afraid. I'll take you to the hospital right now."

Dahlia and I crashed hard under the wheels of the braking car, while Graham tenderly scooped Delia into his arms.

I couldn't help but scream at him. "Graham Prescott! You will regret this!"

He paused, then turned back, his face hard. "Delia has a low pain tolerance. You caused her stitches to tear. I'm not done with you!"

"You better pray she's okay. Otherwise, you and your daughter will kneel on the ground and apologize to her!"

"You won't leave until she forgives you!"

The words died in his throat as the rear door of a sleek black sedan opened. My father's familiar, booming voice cut through the air. "Kneel?! I think you are the one who should be kneeling!"