My Husband Has Fallen in Love

My husband, Archer, has changed lately.

He stopped wearing cologne, claiming the scent was too strong. His phone had become an extension of his hand; hed frequently smile at it, lost in thought. I suspected he was seeing someone.

After tucking our two kids into bed, a message popped up from his mistress. "The unloved one is the home-wrecker. I advise you to divorce Archer now." Another message immediately followed. "Im pregnant with his child! Hes head-over-heels in love with me right now." I feigned ignorance, deleted the messages, and blocked her number.

He was just cheating, not bankrupt. And frankly, his infidelity was a good thing.

Then, his mistress showed up at our doorstep, her several-months-pregnant belly thrust forward in a brazen display. "If you don't divorce him, I'm staying here. You'll even have to care for me after the babys born."

My expression remained flat, her provocations stirring no emotion within me. "No need," I said calmly. "Archer will hire you a confinement nurse. He's got money to spare."

I pulled out my phone, intending to activate the robot vacuum, but stopped. I didnt want her to fake a fall and cause trouble. So, I just sat opposite her and called Archer. "Your girlfriend, with her baby bump, is here."

Archer rushed home from his office, a whirlwind of disheveled hair. His usual gentle demeanor was replaced by a strained look. He stood in the entryway, a mix of guilt and annoyance at his mistresss impulsive visit etched on his face.

The mistress stared at me, dumbfounded. She hadnt expected me, the wronged wife, to be so calm. "Aren't you angry?" she demanded. "Your husband cheated, and youre calling him to deal with me?"

I ignored her, turning instead to Archer. "Handle this. Don't let her cause a scene; it could be bad for the company." I paused, my gaze sharp. "By the sound of your call, you left something important unfinished at work? Ill go clean up the mess for you."

As I walked past him, he grabbed my wrist. His mouth opened, then closed, as if searching for an excuse C a reason I might accept, one that could somehow justify his very pregnant mistress. I gently pushed his hand away. "No explanations needed." I took his car keys from him. "Trust me, the company's affairs are in good hands." I gave him a pointed look. "Don't forget to switch on the robot vacuum."

I closed the door, faintly hearing his mistresss escalating protests. My footsteps quickened to the car, and the sounds from inside faded away.

The company was Archer's brainchild. I had started as his secretary. With my fair skin, pretty face, and solid business skills, I caught his eye. He pursued me relentlessly. Our engagement, then our marriage, made us the picture of a perfect couple in everyone's eyes.

He used to be so romantic. Hed fuss with his hair before going out and dress up specially for our shopping trips, saying he wanted to be worthy of me. My messages were answered instantly; if I ever ignored him, hed bombard me with texts. He worked out daily, promising to keep his abs for me to touch. When I was busy with company affairs, hed pull me aside, insisting I just sit and watch, saying even that was tiring enough.

"He loved me," I thought, "that's what he said."

But then he stopped loving me. Company matters were unceremoniously dumped in my lap, and any mistake earned me a public dressing-down. Outings with me became a chore; hed stare at his phone, dress carelessly, and make no effort. So, when he recently started primping again and doing push-ups at home, I knew. He had found someone else to love.

"Ms. Thorne."

"Ms. Thorne."

In the conference room, the executives rose to greet me. I began to sort out Archers mess. As dusk settled, Archer entered his office, quietly shutting the door, his eyes discreetly observing me.

"I picked up the kids," he said.

I threw myself into work. Though it was his company, I benefited too. Every success meant more money for me, more security for my two children.

Seeing my preoccupation, Archer pulled up a chair and sat beside me. "I'm sorry. I was wrong," he began, his voice laced with regret. "I never thought she'd come directly to you. I warned her not to. But she insisted on confronting you, using her pregnancy to demand a divorce."

I paused, turning my head to face him. "So, do you want a divorce?"

Without a second's hesitation, Archer shook his head. "No, I don't. I truly love you. What happened with her was just a moment of weakness."

I curved my lips into a faint smile. "Then you just handle it."

His expression was etched with anxiety. "You youre not angry?" Before I could answer, he quickly added, "I know you must be furious. I wronged you. What do you want? A house? A car? A house for your parents? Or company shares? Anything you want."

Watching his contrite face, I said, "Shares, then. Not for me, but for our two children. For their future."

Archers guilt deepened. He grasped my hand, weeping for a long time. I honestly didn't understand. He was the one who cheated. Why was he crying?

Archer owned 80% of the company shares. He built the company from the ground up, and only gave up a fraction of shares when it went public. He was brilliant, with an astute business sense. Whatever he touched turned to gold. That's what I valued about himeven if he went bankrupt, he had the ability to rise again.

He allocated 20% of the shares to me, and 10% to each of our children, promising, "There won't be a second time. I know you worry about the children's inheritance. I've already had the lawyer draft a will; our children will inherit the bulk of my assets. Her child a smaller portion, okay?" Archer asked cautiously.

I still didn't grasp the extent of his guilt. He felt guilty, yet he still cheated. Wouldn't it be simpler to be unburdened by guilt and just own it? After all, it was his money. He could give it to whomever he pleased. Would he really refuse to give his mistress's child shares if I told him not to?

I indulged his performance. "Fine, whatever you say." My compliance seemed to ease his discomfort, his expression visibly less constrained.

"Just don't let it affect the company," I added after a moment's thought.

That night, his mistress texted me, gloating: Don't think Archer isn't divorcing you because he loves you. It's just bad for the company! Hell divorce you eventually! Even if he doesn't, my child will have an inheritance!

I deleted the message without a second thought. Because her child wouldn't inherit a thing.

If his mistress didnt cause trouble, I generally didnt meddle in his private life. We had been married for ten years, and our relationship had long since evolved into something akin to familial affection. Our eldest was in middle school, and the younger was about to graduate from elementary school. Juggling the kids schedules alone was exhausting. Add to that our social obligations, maintaining ties with his parents, and mediating between friends and business partners within our social circlethese demands consumed most of my energy.

But then his mistress targeted my eldest son. I found out when he called me, saying some woman claimed to be his stepmother. I rushed over immediately. I could be indifferent to most things, but not when it came to my children.

I arrived at the school gates to find his mistress standing next to my son, a smug smile on her face as she looked at me. I walked over, placing myself in front of my son. "What do you want?"

She folded her arms, facing me. "Just introducing myself to your son as his future stepmother. Is there anything wrong with that? Archer is only postponing the divorce with you for now. He promised me he'll divorce you eventually."

This involved my son, and potentially the companys reputation. After all, this was an expensive private school. Only the wealthy and influential sent their children here. Several business deals had actually originated through my son's classmates, through gradual introductions. Already, a few curious onlookers were starting to observe us.

I snapped. "Get lost."

Seeing my anger, she surprisingly backed down, a smile playing on her lips. "Well, well, Ms. Thorne, I never thought you'd lose your temper. I thought you were made of paper, never showing any emotion."

Slightly provoked, I said coldly, "If you dont leave now, I'll have someone take you to the hospital for an abortion."

She gasped. "You wouldn't dare! Archer wouldn't let you get away with it."

I lifted my chin, lowering my voice in a menacing whisper. "If you don't disappear, the media will suddenly swarm this area, and your story will be plastered everywhere. Guess which is more important to Archer: you, or his company's reputation?"

She panicked. She glared at me, unwilling to give up but afraid to make a move. She was after money. If Archers company ran into trouble, shed lose out. And Archer would hate her.

After she left, I turned to my son, my expression complex. My eldest son gestured for me to get into the car. Once inside, he said, "Be careful with our sister. I'm worried she might try to harm her." I nodded.

That evening, during dinner, after our daughter had finished eating and gone upstairs, he spoke up. "Dad, someone came to see me today and told me to call her my stepmother."

Archer immediately guessed who it was and said, looking uncomfortable, "She's just crazy. Don't worry about her. Nothing like that will happen again." My son nodded calmly. "Hmm. I don't want our sister to know."

Archer made a quick exit, leaving my son and me in a silent understanding.

I guess I'm a gold-digger too.