The Woman He Couldn't Afford

This was the third time I’d sued my husband's mistress.

And this time, he was finally angry.

He didn't come home to plead with me to drop the lawsuit, not like the first two times. Instead, my phone buzzed with the full force of his fury.

Three years, Bianca. A new lawsuit every year. Don't you think you've made your point?

His voice was a low growl, stripped of any warmth it once held for me.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of. If it weren't for you, for what we were, I have a million ways to make life hell for anyone who messes with Jaz. I'm warning you. This is the last time."

The implication was clear: his restraint was a gift. My last gift. Any more trouble, and that restraint would vanish.

A cold laugh escaped my lips. "Is that a threat, Ethan? Go on. Try and ruin me."

He wanted a quiet life with his little lover, a neat little happily-ever-after.

I would give him a war instead.

He hung up, the silence on the line as violent as his words.

In turn, I called my lawyer and filed an injunction to freeze all our marital assets.

01

We were married for five years. For three of them, Ethan had treated me like a ghost.

We met in college, the kind of couple everyone pointed to as proof that true love existed. We were the campus sweethearts, the ones destined to make it. It took us five years to get from that campus to the altar.

It took him two years to cheat on me.

She was his new assistant. Jasmine.

I found them. Not in a motel, not in some sordid apartment, but in our home. He had her tucked under his arm, shielding her as if I were the threat.

"Bianca, don't blame her," he said, his voice firm. "This is on me. I started it."

"Why?" The word was a shard of glass in my throat. Seven years of my life, undone by a girl who couldn't have been more than twenty-two.

"We were out with clients. Someone slipped something in my drink. If Jaz hadn't been there… I could have lost everything." His eyes softened as he looked down at her, a wave of tenderness washing over his face. "She's just a kid, Bianca. An innocent girl. She's with me now. I have to protect her. I can't let her get hurt."

His words hit me like a physical blow.

Ethan was a self-made man, his success built on a mountain of networking events and schmoozing dinners. I was there for all of it. To help him secure funding, I’d sat through countless dinners with lecherous investors, their hands lingering too long on my arm, their eyes crawling over my skin. I’d smiled through it all, for him. For us.

An innocent girl. Can't let her get hurt.

Was that it? Was I no longer clean in his eyes? Was I tainted by the very world I’d helped him conquer? Was that his excuse to find solace in the arms of his wide-eyed assistant?

Then what were all my sacrifices for? What was I?

02

Ethan didn't show up for the deposition.

But his mistress did.

"Bianca. Name your price. What will it take to make this go away?"

She was dressed head-to-toe in runway-fresh Dior, dripping in jewels that I knew for a fact were not family heirlooms. The timid girl I’d first seen clinging to my husband was gone. In her place stood a woman sculpted by Ethan's money. He had polished her well over the last three years.

"I want to speak with Ethan," I said, my voice flat.

A smug smile played on her lips. "Me being here is his statement. He's sick of you, Bianca. He can't even stand to look at you anymore."

Her eyes, cold and dismissive, swept over me. "This has always been about money, right?"

She slid a document across the polished table. A divorce settlement.

"Sign it. I talked to E, and he agreed to be generous. An extra ten million."

It was our money. Money I had helped him earn. Yet here she was, framing it as a handout, a gift she had magnanimously convinced him to bestow upon me.

I met her gaze, my own eyes turning to ice. "I said, I'll speak with Ethan."

"About what? The divorce?" She let out a light, tinkling laugh. "You've sued me for three years. And what have you gotten out of it? Nothing. In fact, every time you file a suit, Ethan feels so guilty about what I have to go through. He spoils me even more."

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He's bought me cars, condos… a portfolio. Honestly, I should be thanking you. These last three years have been very, very profitable. Two hundred million, all in my name."

Her gaze was pure condescension. "Why do you have to be so pathetic? Fifty million is more than fair. Don't be that woman. Take the deal while I'm in a good mood. Sign the papers and walk away." Her smile tightened. "Because if you don't, I promise you, what he offers next will be far less."

He was giving his mistress assets worth hundreds of millions, and offering me fifty million to disappear. I clung to the last shred of my dignity.

"I'm not signing anything. As long as I'm his wife, you'll always be the other woman."

"You—" Jasmine's face contorted with rage, and her hand flew towards my face.

I caught her wrist, my grip like steel. "And as long as I am legally his wife, every single dollar he gave you is marital property. You think you're going to keep that two hundred million? Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Bianca! Let her go."

Ethan. He stormed in, his face a thundercloud, and roughly wrenched my arm away, shoving me back. I stumbled, my knee cracking hard against the leg of a chair. A bolt of sharp, searing pain shot up my leg.

He didn't even glance at me. His attention was solely on Jasmine, his hands framing her face, his eyes frantic with a worry he never showed me anymore. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

The arrogant woman from moments before vanished. Jasmine buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with silent, theatrical sobs.

Ethan's gaze finally found me, and it was utterly devoid of warmth. "Bianca, what did I tell you? You want to fight, you fight with me. You don't touch her. Haven't you learned anything in the last three years?"

03

That was the incident that changed everything. For slapping his mistress, Ethan didn't just fire me from the executive position I held at our company; he moved out of our home and into hers.

I screamed. I cried. I pleaded. I fell apart.

In response, he blocked my number, blocked my email, and vanished from my life completely.

That was my "lesson."

The only way to see him, the only way to force him to face me, was to drag his new life into the harsh light of a courtroom. So I filed suit against Jasmine, for misappropriation of marital assets.

It was the one thing he couldn't ignore. He couldn't stand the thought of her name being dragged through legal proceedings. So he would appear. He would finally see me.

And each time, it was the same. He would demand to know when I was going to stop. He would warn me that next time, he wouldn't be so lenient. He would slide a divorce settlement across the table, his only goal to make her an honest woman.

I stared at him now, the pain in my knee a dull throb. "What other lessons do you have for me, Ethan? Bring them on. Do you really think there's anything left for me to be afraid of?"

His jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Jasmine, nestled in his arms, chose that moment to look up, her eyes shimmering with perfectly formed tears. "E, it's all my fault… I shouldn't have come to see her. I was just so worried about your reputation, about the company you worked so hard to build…"

She pressed her cheek against his chest, her voice choked with emotion. "I don't care about any of it. The cars, the condos, everything… I'll give it all to her. If she'll just leave you in peace, I'll give up everything…"

It was a masterful performance.

"Bianca, it's been three years," Ethan said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Haven't you had enough?"

He looked at me, his eyes dark and clouded. "You've tortured us for three years. Isn't it time to let go of your anger?"

He had ignored me for three years. Frozen me out for three years. Flaunted his love for another woman for three years. Ground my dignity into dust for three years.

And now he was accusing me of torturing him.

04

A laugh, sharp and brittle, broke from my lips. "Enough? It's not nearly enough. You want peace, Ethan? You should have thought of that before you destroyed mine. I'm not done. I want everyone to know what you are: a man who betrays his vows. And I want everyone to know what she is: a homewrecker who knew exactly what she was doing."

"I am going to nail you both to the cross of public opinion."

Ethan’s expression was one of pure disdain. "Look at you, Bianca. Listen to yourself. You sound like some unhinged woman screaming on a street corner. What happened to you?"

He shook his head, a cruel smirk on his face. "And for the record, Jaz is not a homewrecker. In love, Bianca, the one who isn't loved is the other woman."

So that's what I was to him now. The other woman.

Tears welled, hot and furious, but I refused to let them fall. My hand shot out, grabbing the heavy ceramic coffee mug from the table. With a guttural cry, I hurled it at his head.

"Ah—!" Jasmine shrieked.

The dark brown liquid mixed with the bright red of his blood, dripping down his temple.

Ethan stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. Three years. We had argued, we had iced each other out, we had lived in a state of cold war for three excruciating years. But this was the first time I had ever laid a hand on him.

He wiped the blood from his brow with the back of his hand and, with a chilling calmness, slapped the divorce papers down on the table once more.

"There. You've hit me, you've had your tantrum. You should feel better now. Sign the papers."

05

Jasmine stepped toward me, her face a mask of patronizing pity. "Bianca, please… don't do this to Ethan anymore. Do you really want me to get on my knees and beg you—"

Before she could finish her sentence, I slapped her. Hard. The crack echoed in the silent room.

"A mistress doesn't get a speaking part in this conversation," I spat.

As I raised my hand for a second time, Ethan lunged, his fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. He yanked me back, flinging me away from her. I lost my balance, my head slamming against the sharp corner of the conference table. A warm, wet sensation instantly flooded my hairline.

But he wasn't looking at me.

"Did you forget my warning, Bianca?" His voice was dangerously low. "You forced my hand."

He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Get all of Bianca's things out of the house. Now. Pack them in a box and leave it on the curb. And change the locks. She is not to set foot on that property again."

I pressed a hand to my bleeding forehead, staring at him in disbelief. "Ethan… you told me that was our forever home."

For a split second, seeing the blood, his brow furrowed. Just a flicker. Then it was gone. He turned his back on me, wrapping a protective arm around Jasmine. "You brought this on yourself, Bianca. I told you. Come after me, but you leave Jaz out of it."

He scooped her up into his arms. "This is the last time I'm going easy on you. You'd be wise to remember that."

His gaze softened as he looked down at the woman in his arms. "Jaz, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Let's get you to a doctor."

A single slap, and she needed a doctor.

I was bleeding freely from my head, and he saw right through me.

Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck, but her triumphant gaze was locked on me. "E, what about Bianca? She's hurt, too. Shouldn't you—"

Ethan's voice was like a blade. "She's an irrelevant person. Not worth my time."

Ten years of love, erased. I was irrelevant. Not worth his time.

06

I drove home in a daze. Home.

The housekeeper, a woman who had worked for us for years, blocked the doorway. "Ma'am, Mr. Scott said you're not allowed inside anymore."

She pointed to a single, small cardboard box sitting on the porch steps. "He said you could take your personal clothing, but nothing else from the house."

That small box. Sitting there like a piece of trash.

A low, hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. So this was it. This was the grand finale. This was the future I had chosen when I ignored every warning, burned every bridge, and threw my entire life behind one man.

Tears finally blurred my vision. Ethan was a man of his word, after all. One slap was all it took.

He was so cruel. He knew. He knew I had no other family to turn to. He had been my only family. This house was the only anchor I had left.

Why was he doing this? What had I done to deserve this bottomless cruelty?

I don't know how long I stood there, frozen on the sidewalk. Eventually, a car pulled up, and Olivia got out. My best friend. In this entire city, she was the one person I still had.

She took one look at my face, at the box, and her own face hardened. She practically forced me into the passenger seat of her car.

"That son of a bitch," she seethed. "Ethan is a goddamn monster." She glanced at me, her eyes full of pain. "Bianca, why are you still holding on to this? You're miserable, and you're making him miserable."

I stared out the window at the blurry city lights. "He's not miserable, Liv," I rasped. "He's got his perfect little doll to comfort him."

Olivia was silent for a long time. "He's never gone this far before, no matter how bad your fights were. What happened today?"

The tears started again, hot tracks down my cold cheeks. "I slapped her. His precious Jasmine. Just once."

Olivia slammed her fist on the steering wheel. "Bia, don't you think you deserve better? Does it really have to be him?"

I wiped my eyes, a hollow feeling echoing inside me. "It's not about him anymore, Liv. It's the sheer injustice of it all. The boy who promised me forever under the autumn leaves on the main quad… how did he become this… this cold, cruel stranger? I just want an answer. What does she have that I don't?"

Olivia's voice was laced with a helpless frustration. "Bia, you're a hundred times the woman she'll ever be. Ethan is blind. He's an idiot." She paused, trying to find some logic. "Look, maybe this lawsuit just hit a nerve, maybe he lost a lot of money and he's lashing out. He'll cool down… maybe he'll…"

She trailed off, then tried again. "He can't feel nothing for you. If he was truly indifferent, why would he let you torment him for three years without ever really fighting back? He never used his real power against you until now…"

"Feelings? Indifferent?" My laugh was a broken, trembling thing. "He knows I cut off my family for him. He knows I have nowhere else to go. He promised me that house would always be my home… and today, he threw me out like garbage."

Olivia's own eyes welled up. "All those years… from college kids to this… How did it ever come to this?"

That's right. How?

I wanted an answer, too.

07

I spent days in a fog at Olivia's apartment. Finally, she dragged me out of bed.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice listless.

"To get you some justice," she replied.

I instinctively recoiled. "Liv, please. This is between Ethan and me. Don't get involved."

"I've invited a few of our old friends from college." She took my cold hand in hers. "With us there, maybe Ethan will be reminded of the woman you are. The woman he fell in love with."

"This is a chance for you two to actually talk." Her voice was soft, full of hope. "I don't believe that two people who loved each other that fiercely can just… stop. There has to be something left."

I stood there, stunned. Three years. Over a thousand days. And in every single encounter, every single confrontation, he had said nothing. He would just watch me with those cold eyes, push the divorce papers toward me, and utter the same five brutal words in the same flat tone: "Just sign it, Bianca."

Could we really talk?

Olivia's desperate hope on my behalf made my nose sting.

The private room she'd booked was at the same restaurant where Ethan had proposed. Standing outside the door, I felt a dizzying wave of vertigo, as if the past ten years were collapsing in on me. I could almost hear his voice from that night, thick with emotion: "Bianca, be my girlfriend. I'll love you for the rest of my life."

Through the door, I could hear the muffled voices of our friends.

"Ethan, has it really come to this? Is divorce the only option?"

"Yeah, man. A woman on the side is one thing, but you don't throw away a marriage like yours."

"You and Bianca have been through so much. Whatever it is, just work it out. Get it out of your system and go home."

Then, Ethan's voice, calm and resolute. "This isn't just a fling. I'm serious about her."

The room went quiet for a moment. Then someone else spoke. "I just don't get it, Ethan. I've met your new girlfriend. She's… fine. But in terms of looks, intelligence, capability… she's not in the same league as Bianca. How can you be so obsessed with her?"

Outside the door, my fingers curled into fists. Yes. That was the question. The question that had haunted me for three years. Where did I fall short? What made her so much better?

"You're right. Bianca is superior to Jaz in every way," Ethan's voice was unnervingly calm.

"Then why…?"

"That's exactly why," Ethan cut in. "She's too superior. She's independent, strong… she makes it seem like she doesn't need anyone. From household chores to business negotiations, she handles everything perfectly."

His tone shifted, softening into something almost tender. "But Jaz is different. She's… clumsy. She burns herself making instant ramen. She gets lost every time she leaves the house. She can never find her phone. If I'm not around, she's a walking disaster—"

He paused, and I could picture the fond smile on his face. "She needs me. And that feeling, being needed… it fills a space inside me I didn't even know was empty."

I leaned against the cold wall, a hollow laugh escaping my lips.

So that was it. I hadn't lost to another woman. I had lost to my own damned competence. I had lost to every storm I had weathered on my own.

All those late nights I stayed up with him while he was building his company from scratch.

All those client dinners where I drank until my stomach burned to help him land a deal.

All those days and nights I managed our lives, our home, our world, so he could focus on his dream without a single worry.

Everything I thought was a testament to my love and support… was actually the reason he left.

The irony was so thick it choked me.

I had forged myself into a fortress to protect him, only for him to leave and become the guardian of a delicate, clinging vine.

And in that moment, I finally understood.

It wasn't that I wasn't good enough. It was that I was too good.

Too good for a man like him.

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