He Moved His Pregnant Mistress Into My House

My husband, earning a paltry five thousand a month, brazenly moved his pregnant mistress into my multi-million dollar penthouse, which I'd bought outright.

Not only did he try to kick me out, but he also allowed his mother to steal and use my special chemical cream, leading to her disfigurement and baldness.

His sister even demanded I pack my bags and clear out for the mistress.

Watching this self-righteous family of fools, I laughed, chillingly.

They seemed to have forgotten that I was not only the owner of this luxury apartment but also the CEO of the company that held his fate in my hands.

Since you're so comfortable spending my money, then you'll return it all, with interest.

You can spend the rest of your lives reflecting on your mistakes in prison!

After seeing my mother-in-law, Brenda, sneak into my master bedroom on the security camera countless times, I finally snapped.

On the screen, she was sitting at my vanity, her eyes gleaming at a plain white ceramic jar on the table.

Her rough fingers scooped out a large glob of white cream, preparing to smear it on her face.

I took a deep breath and opened our SnapChat family group, sending a voice message.

"Brenda, whatever you do, don't touch the white jar on my vanity.

That's an industrial-strength depilatory and decolorizing cream our R&D department just formulated.

It's extremely corrosive and will cause severe burns if it touches your skin."

Less than thirty seconds after I sent the message, my sister-in-law, Ashley's voice message popped up, sharp and shrill.

"Sophia, who are you trying to scare?

It's just some skincare cream, right?

What's wrong with my mom using a little of your stuff?

Do you really have to make up such a malicious lie to curse her with disfigurement?"

Immediately after, my husband, Mark, jumped in with a text message.

"Sophia, you're being a bit much.

My five-thousand-a-month salary goes entirely to support this family.

You eat and drink off me, and you're still stingy about your mom using a bit of your skincare?

Don't be so selfish!"

I looked at the words on the screen and laughed, purely out of anger.

Five thousand a month to support the family?

This multi-million dollar penthouse in the city center was my pre-marital property, bought entirely with my own money.

Mark's measly salary wasn't even enough to cover the monthly property management fees and utility bills.

The car he drove, the designer clothes he wore C wasn't all of it paid for with my secondary credit card?

My generosity, mistaken for weakness, had only attracted a pack of greedy leeches.

Fine.

Since good advice was wasted on the undeserving, I wasn't going to bother with more words.

I slowly typed a line: "I've warned you.

Consequences are on you."

Ashley instantly replied: "Pfft, cut the act!

My mom just said the cream has a faint fragrance and feels cool on her face C it's definitely high-end stuff!

You can just stay at work and be jealous.

When my brother gets home, he's going to teach you a lesson, you selfish, wicked woman!"

I locked my phone, took a sip of my iced Americano, and my gaze turned cold.

Teach me a lesson?

We'd see who was teaching whom a lesson today.

At six in the evening, I pushed open the front door.

Before I could even take off my shoes, I heard a bloodcurdling scream from the living room.

"Oh, my face!

It hurts so much!

Help me!"

I slipped on my slippers and slowly walked into the living room.

The scene before me was ten times more spectacular than I'd imagined.

Brenda was rolling on the floor, clutching her face with both hands, letting out heart-wrenching wails.

Her already sparse hair was falling out in clumps, scattered across the wool rug like weeds.

More horrifying was her face; the areas where she'd applied the white cream were now swollen and almost distorted.

Her entire face looked terrifying, glowing with an eerie redness, and yellowish tissue fluid was even starting to seep out.

"Brenda!

What happened, Brenda!"

Mark and Ashley rushed out of the kitchen, gasping in shock at the sight of Brenda on the floor.

"Mark!

Brenda's hair is all gone!

Her face is ruined!"

Ashley shrieked, her voice trembling.

Mark suddenly turned, his eyes bloodshot, glaring at me like a furious beast.

"Sophia!

You witch!

What poison did you use on my mom!"

He stomped towards me, raising his palm to slap my face.

I stood my ground, not even blinking, staring at him coldly.

"Try to touch me."

My voice was quiet, but it carried immense pressure.

"If that slap lands, I guarantee you'll receive a court summons tomorrow, along with a divorce agreement that leaves you with nothing."

Mark's hand froze mid-air, the muscles in his face twitching.

He was clearly intimidated by my presence.

"You dare threaten my brother?!"

Ashley shrieked, hopping next to him.

"It's obvious you're twisted, deliberately leaving poison on the table to harm my mom!

I'm calling the police!"

I sneered, walked over to the sofa, and sat down, crossing my legs.

"Call the police?

Go ahead.

I'd love for the police to see who ignored a warning and secretly stole and used someone else's property."

I took out my phone, pulled up the SnapChat family group chat history, and waved it in front of them.

"It's all here, in black and white, voice messages included.

I clearly told you it was industrial depilatory cream, but you insisted on thinking it was high-end skincare and smeared it on your faces.

So now your face is ruined, and your hair is gone C and that's my fault?"

Brenda was rolling her eyes in pain on the floor, almost passing out.

"Stop talking!

Call an ambulance!"

Mark panicked, yelling at Ashley.

The ambulance wailed as it arrived.

The paramedics frowned at Brenda's horrific state.

"The burns are too severe.

She needs to be taken to the emergency room for debridement immediately!"

As Brenda was being carried away on a stretcher, Mark pointed at my nose, gritting his teeth as he delivered his ultimatum.

"Sophia, you just wait!

If anything happens to my mom, I'm not done with you!

When I get back from the hospital, you're getting out of this house!"

The front door slammed shut.

I looked at the empty living room, my cold smirk deepening.

Make me leave this house?

Mark, you must still be dreaming.

At ten o'clock that night, the front door opened again.

I was sitting on the sofa, replying to company emails on my tablet.

Mark walked in first, his face not showing the slightest bit of anxiety or sadness from the hospital, but rather a smugness, like a villain getting his way.

Following him, besides Ashley, was a young woman in a tight-fitting dress with a slightly bulging belly.

"Crystal, slow down, watch the step."

Mark carefully supported the woman, his voice dripping with tenderness.

The woman called Crystal leaned coquettishly into Mark's embrace, her critical gaze sweeping across the living room.

"Oh, Mark, is this your multi-million dollar penthouse?

The location is great, but the decor is too cold and hard, not cozy at all.

Let's find someone to throw out all this black, white, and gray furniture tomorrow and replace it with the French cream style I like, okay?"

"Yes, yes, whatever you want.

You're carrying our family's grandchild, so you're the boss," Mark said, fawning, acting like a servant to royalty.

Ashley quickly joined in, eagerly carrying Crystal's bag.

"Don't be mad, Crystal.

This awful decor was chosen by that useless old hag who couldn't give Mark a child.

Once she's gone tonight, this place is all yours!"

"Hag?"

I raised an eyebrow, put down my tablet, and watched the drama unfold with interest.

Mark settled Crystal on the other end of the sofa, then turned to me, his face morphing into a fierce scowl.

"Sophia, you still have the nerve to sit here?"

He pulled a hospital diagnosis report from his pocket and slapped it onto the coffee table.

"My mom has severe chemical burns on her scalp; all her hair follicles are dead.

She'll never grow hair again!

Her face is ruined!

I'm settling this with you today!"

I glanced at the diagnosis report without even lifting an eyelid.

"So?

How do you want to settle it?"

"So I don't need to be polite anymore!"

Mark straightened his back, righteously pointing at Crystal.

"Crystal is three months pregnant with my son!

You've been married to me for three years and couldn't pop out a single kid, and now you've done this to my mom!"

"This apartment will be considered compensation for my mom's medical expenses and for Crystal's pregnancy!

Now, get out, immediately, clean out, and make space!"

I looked at his shameless face, feeling only one thing: the diversity of the human species was truly astonishing.

A five-thousand-a-month loser, living off me to support his whole family, finds a mistress, gets her pregnant, and then shamelessly brings her back to *my* entirely-paid-for house, even distributing *my* property as if it were his own.

"Mark, why isn't she leaving yet?"

Crystal covered her nose, looking at me with disgust.

"The sofa she sat on feels dirty.

What if she infects my son with bad luck?"

"Exactly!

Get out!

Don't be an eyesore!"

Ashley chimed in, hands on her hips.

"Do you really think our family cares about you?

My brother is a senior manager at your company now, with a bright future ahead!

He can more than support all of us!"

I calmly glanced at the security camera next to the TV cabinet, which was blinking red.

"Alright."

I stood up and straightened the creases in my clothes.

"Since you're all so 'loving,' I won't interrupt your family bliss."

Mark paused, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly, without even an argument.

"Smart move."

He suppressed the wild joy and greed in his eyes, feigning generosity.

"Pack your few old clothes and leave.

Don't even think about taking anything valuable from this house!"

I ignored him, walked straight into the walk-in closet, grabbed a small suitcase, and casually packed a few changes of clothes and important documents.

At the entrance, I stopped and turned back to look at the two on the sofa, still being all lovey-dovey.

"Mark, I hope you remember what you said tonight.

You and your family had better enjoy this apartment."

With that, I opened the door and walked out without looking back.

As the door closed, I clearly heard Crystal's seductive laughter.

"Mark, you're amazing!

You got rid of that old hag with just a few words!

Now this big house is ours!"

"Of course!

In this house, I call the shots!"

Mark boasted proudly.

I stepped into the elevator, pulled out my phone, and a cold smirk played on my lips.

The show had only just begun.

I pressed the 18th floor on the elevator.

The 18th floor of this building was also my property, which I'd converted into a private studio and lounge.

Mark and his family had no idea.

I poured myself a glass of red wine and walked to my computer, pulling up the security camera feed from upstairs.

On the monitor, the group who had taken over my apartment was already eagerly starting their new lives.

Crystal was directing Ashley to throw my belongings out the door.

"That vase's color is too dark, it looks like an urn, throw it out!"

"What's with that messy painting?

It's bad luck, take it down and use it as trash lining!"

Ashley, like a diligent minion, unhesitatingly swept the antique vase I'd bought at Sotheby's for over one hundred fifty thousand dollars into the trash.

"Crystal, how's this?"

Ashley asked, smiling obsequiously.

"It'll do, I guess," Crystal said arrogantly, patting her belly.

"Mark, tomorrow I want to throw a baby shower and invite all my best girlfriends to see our new home."

"No problem!

Whatever my wife wants, she gets!

I'll transfer you money tomorrow, spend as much as you like!"

Mark puffed out his chest, grandly.

I watched his pathetic attempt to play the big shot on the screen, a cold sneer on my face, as I opened my mobile banking app.

First step: I stopped all automatic payments linked to this apartment, including utilities and the hefty property management fees.

Second step: I immediately reported the credit card linked to my account, which Mark held with a one million dollar limit, as lost and froze it.

Initially, I had ignored the board's opposition and secretly arranged a figurehead managerial position for him at a branch company.

Even that credit card was given to him to save face and maintain his ridiculous ego when he was out.

I never imagined he'd mistake my charity for his own capability.

Using my money to support another woman, and trying to seize my apartment?

Pure fantasy.

After doing all this, I sent a message to Mr. Clark, my company's CFO.

"First thing tomorrow, initiate a comprehensive financial audit of Mark's department at the branch company.

Investigate all accounts he handled; not a single cent should be missed."

Mr. Clark replied instantly: "Received, Ms. Sophia."

I swirled the red wine in my glass, watching the scumbag and mistress embracing and sleeping on the monitor, my eyes chillingly cold.

Enjoy your last hurrah.