His Mistress Passed My Test

Every time one of the girls Carter messed around with showed up at my door, I would say the exact same thing:

Answer three questions for me. Get them right, and Ill sign the divorce papers. You can have the title of Mrs. Sterling.

Get them wrong, and you disappear. Or, I make you disappear.

They all thought they were the exception.

But not a single one of them had ever gotten all three questions right.

Until Carter personally brought that young girl and sat her down right in front of me.

The girl squinted at me with a smug smile:

"Hi. He doesnt love you. Why dont you just beat it?"

"I really don't want to get my hands dirty fighting an old woman."

I rested my chin on my hand and asked her the same three questions as always.

She answered fast, and she got them wrong just as fast.

But when my assistant, Maya, stepped forward to escort her out, I smiled and nodded:

"Congratulations."

I slipped off my platinum wedding ring and slid it across the table:

"As of today, I'm stepping down."

Carter was standing just two steps behind her.

A half-burned cigarette was pinched between his fingers.

His brows furrowed slightly.

He looked as if he hadn't expected the words "stepping down" to actually come out of my mouth.

"I got them right?"

The girls smile was still plastered on her face, her brain failing to process what was happening.

I shook my head. "You got every single one wrong."

She blinked. Her eyes were bright, but filled with insolence:

"Didn't you say I had to get them right for you to leave?"

"Wait, is it because..."

Her hand slowly drifted down, resting over her flat stomach. "You know you can't compete with me anymore?"

My gaze followed her movement, landing on her flat belly.

Last winter, I found a photo on Carter's phone.

In the neon-lit VIP room of a private club, a young girl was leaning heavily on his shoulder.

He had explained it away easily: "She's just a business partner's daughter. We had a drink."

Then, he had pinned me against the sofa. "Evelyn, you are the only Mrs. Sterling I will ever have in this lifetime. The others? They're just toys."

"I would never let them carry my child. You don't have to worry about that, okay?"

...

Another empty promise, as expected.

The platinum band scraped against my knuckle, feeling uncomfortably tight.

I had worn it for seven years. It had left a deep, pale indentation in my skin.

I placed the ring on the glass table.

Hailey glanced at the ring, her lips curling upward. "Are you really taking it off?"

"Look, if you don't want to give him up, don't. Making such a dramatic scene is just embarrassing."

Carter lowered his hand, letting the cigarette ash fall onto the dark hardwood floor.

"Are you done throwing your tantrum?" he asked, his voice laced with impatience.

I stood up, grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, and walked right past him.

"Evelyn," Carter called out.

I stopped.

He walked up behind me, spun me around by the shoulder, and gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger.

He wasn't looking at his wife. He was looking at a subordinate who had suddenly stopped obeying orders.

"The door is right there. Walking out is easy," he said, his voice dropping. "But walking back in is hard. Think carefully."

I looked down at his hand.

His fingers were long and well-defined, his skin warm.

I had held this hand for seven years. I had been terrified of letting it go.

From the early days of his startup when he stayed up all night rewriting business proposals, to the day Sterling Group went public.

From his very first affair to this young girl who had finally broken my spirit.

For seven years, after every fight, every silent treatment, and every time I slammed the door and left, I was always the one who crawled back.

He only ever had to stand in place and wait.

Wait for me to calm down. Wait for me to swallow my own humiliation and pretend nothing happened.

He knew I suffered from severe codependency. He knew I was emotionally paralyzed without him.

To avoid losing him, I had spent years playing the fool.

But now, all the strength had drained out of me. I gently pulled away from his grip. "Ive thought it through."

He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly spoke: "Then lay it out. Make it make sense."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Those three questions. She got them all wrong. Why are you giving up your spot?"

I lowered my eyes.

This was the first time he had ever demanded an explanation.

But at this point, this conversation, those three questionsnone of it mattered anymore.

I let out a dry laugh. "Well, I can't exactly let your baby be born illegitimate, can I?"

He froze.

"Just because of that?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Just because of that."

Even though it was just a wild guess based on her rubbing her stomach to show off.

But at least, it was a clean, undeniable reason to end this.

The man looked down, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. The crease between his brows smoothed out.

Now that he had a logical explanation, he didn't mind acting generous:

"You're being much more sensible than I expected."

"I'll give you the estate upstate. Move there first."

"Hailey needs a quiet place to take care of the pregnancy, and you'll get some peace and quiet over there. Ill come visit you whenever I have time."

I said nothing, turned around, and walked out.

Behind me, the girls high-pitched, whiny voice drifted through the door:

"Carter, what did she mean by that? Those questions were so simple. Im so smart, how could I have gotten them wrong?"

"And I don't want people saying I only got to be with you because of the baby!"

The man let out a low, indulgent chuckle. He pinched her nose playfully. "How about the baby got to be born rich because of you? Does that work?"

Amidst her giggles, my hand gripped the brass doorknob.

The cold air of the hallway hit my face.

My heart went entirely numb.

My assistant, Maya, came running out, catching up to me right at the elevator.

Her face was pale with anxiety.

"Evelyn, what is going on?"

"That Hailey girl was just guessing randomly! Why did you let her win?"

Let her win?

I had never been winning in the first place. How could I talk about losing?

Seeing my silence, she lowered her voice even more. "She's just a homewrecker. Shes loud-mouthed, and we don't even know if she's actually pregnant."

I pressed the elevator button. "Then you're giving her too much credit. Shes not even the third party."

I couldn't even count which number she was anymore.

After all, at least ten girls had come to find me directly.

As for the ones who hadn't? Who knew?

"Evelyn..." She took a step closer. "If you leave, then Carter"

"He has Hailey now," I said simply.

In the future, this highly sought-after, exhausting position of Mrs. Sterling belonged to her.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside.

I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the suffocating waves of anxiety crashing over my chest.

I remembered the day he confessed his love to me seven years ago.

He had said, "Evelyn, I'm never letting you go. You're stuck with me for life."

Back then, he had jumped into a street fight with some thugs to protect me, ending up with a broken nose.

His face had been covered in blood.

I had been crying hysterically, screaming for help.

But even while lying on the dirty asphalt, he had smiled at me and whispered, "Don't cry, babe. I'm okay."

Our love had been a beautiful, consuming wildfire.

We dated, we got married, we built a business empire together from scratch.

But then, my parents were killed in a horrific car crash. On that exact day, I developed a severe psychological trauma response: Severe Codependency Disorder.

At my worst, my obsession with Carter was borderline pathological.

If he went on a three-day business trip, I would suffer from insomnia for three days straight.

If his phone died and I couldn't reach him, my anxiety would spiral so wildly that I would knock on his coworkers' doors in the middle of the night.

Whenever he didn't reply to my texts, I couldn't sit still. My mind would scream on a loop: Hes leaving you. He doesnt want you anymore.

If he didn't come home, I would turn on every single light in the penthouse and sit on the couch, staring at the door until sunrise.

In those early days of the company, no matter how swamped he was, he would always text me to check in. He never spent a night away.

Even on business trips, he would catch a 2 AM flight just to come back and hold me.

He used to tell me, "Don't worry, Evelyn. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

But later, I heard rumors about his beautiful new secretary, Ashley.

After she accompanied him on a few major project trips, the entire company started whispering about how "compatible" they were.

I heard she stayed late with him in his office every night, and they frequently went out for late-night dinners.

I heard he picked out expensive birthday gifts for her and took her to watch private firework displays.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I went to see the girl.

The very next day, Ashley jumped from the office roof.

Even though the police investigation cleared me of any wrongdoing, and even though I swore to Carter that I had only talked to her... the way Carter looked at me changed forever.

To please him, I begged him, "Let me be your secretary. I know the company better than anyone, and I know you."

He agreed.

I went to work with him every day and came home with him every night.

I followed him like a shadow.

Some people joked behind my back that I was like a leech, but I just smiled and ignored them.

But then, I found a receipt in his suit pocket.

A high-end jewelry boutique. A pair of diamond earrings. Eighty-three thousand dollars.

My ears weren't pierced.

The gift wasn't for me.

After days of agonizing, I chose not to ask. He chose not to mention it.

I knew that curing my dependency on him would be harder than trying to stop breathing.

And he had grown utterly exhausted of the eyes watching his every move.

One refused to let go, while the other desperately wanted to escape. We both pretended to be blind.

I thought keeping up the charade would save us.

But the women outside had been spoiled rotten by him. One after another, they began showing up at my office.

They sat across from me, throwing proof in my face.

Expensive gifts, wire transfer screenshots, promises of eternal love.

Everything they had, I didn't.

Everything I had, they got too.

My birthdays, our wedding anniversaries, holidaysthe only thing he gave me was a rushed dinner before rushing off to his "meetings."

Those nights he claimed he was busy entertaining clients? They were spent in the arms of other women.

So, those girls all believed they were the ones truly loved. They would ask me when I was going to pack my bags.

My emotions went from rage, to terror, and finally, to complete numbness.

I learned to ask those three questions. I listened to their answers, and then I escorted them out.

I foolishly believed that as long as I got rid of them one by one, he would eventually come back to me for good.

But the women kept coming. Each one younger, prettier, and more entitled than the last.

Until Hailey.

In seven years, he had never personally accompanied a girl to face me.

He had finally brought his infidelity right out into the open.

In that single instant, I finally understood.

I wasn't protecting a marriage. I was just guarding an empty desk.

The elevator hit the lobby, and the doors slid open.

I walked out, crossed the polished marble floor, and pushed through the revolving doors.

Standing on the steps outside, I pulled out my phone and sent Carter a text on Snapchat.

[Tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM, meet me at the Family Court. We're filing for divorce.]

The chat remained on "Read." No reply.

He was always like this. Whenever it came to things that didn't benefit himlike losing half of his net worth in a divorce settlementhe chose to ignore it.

But this marriage had reached a point where it had to end.

The next morning at 8:30 AM, I arrived at the Family Court house early.

Several young couples were waiting in line outside, their faces glowing with the sweet, naive hope of newlyweds.

I walked past them and found a seat by the window.

9:15 AM.

He didn't show.

I set my designer bag on the empty seat next to me and looked down at the pale indentation on my ring finger.

The skin underneath was still strikingly white.

Like a scar of my failure.

Seven years of devotion, and all I had left to show for it was a blank space on my finger.

Deep down, I knew he wouldn't show up. But it didn't matter anymore.

What mattered was that I was done waiting.

Just as I was about to stand up, a voice called out from above me:

"Well, well. If it isn't Mrs. Sterling?"

I looked up and saw a heavily made-up face.

Short, dark hair, wearing a low-cut black slip dress.

I recognized her. She had cornered me last summer. Her name was Amber, a contemporary dancer.

Carter had secretly funded several of her solo shows.

She stood in front of me with her arms crossed.

"What is the grand Mrs. Sterling doing here?"

"Filing for divorce."

She blinked in shock, then let out a sharp laugh. "Divorce? Who actually got those three ridiculous questions right?"

I shook my head.

Her laughter faded, and she tilted her head, her eyes flashing with a strange, complicated expression.

"You two are honestly the most bizarre couple Ive ever met," she said suddenly. "But Carter is on a whole different level of psycho."

"Back then, I asked him what those three questions of yours meant. I asked him if I really had to answer them correctly to be with him."

"Do you want to guess what he said?"

She leaned in closer, whispering: "He said..."

"Those questions are just a trap she set up to humiliate you guys. She'll never give you the correct answer anyway."

She let out a scoff.

"Turns out you two were just using us like circus monkeys for your little marriage games. Absolutely pathetic."

My hands clenched into tight fists over my knees.

But I forced my face to remain perfectly serene. "When you accepted the half-million-dollar breakup settlement, you didn't seem to think it was pathetic."

Amber's face stiffened. She couldn't find a single word to fire back.

I threw my bag over my shoulder and walked right past her.

When I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the courthouse, the sky outside had turned a gloomy gray.

I slumped onto a public bench by the street.

My fingers had started violently trembling.

My therapist had warned me that under extreme stress, my dependency disorder would trigger severe physical withdrawal symptoms.

Trembling, heart palpitations, hyperventilation...

I gripped the strap of my bag, digging my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself to count.

"One, two, three, four..."

My heart was hammering against my ribs. Cold sweat broke out across my back.

My vision started going dark.

I knew this was the withdrawal.

I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in them.

It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my lungs.

I wanted so badly to call him. I knew that if he just said one kind word, the pain would stop instantly.

He doesnt want me anymore.

The thought screamed in my head, making my skull throb. I forced myself to rewrite the narrative:

No. I don't want him anymore!

I pulled out my phone and dialed a different number.

"Dr. Evans, it's me," my voice was shaking violently. "You said there was a treatment that could completely cure my codependency... that could decouple my trauma triggers."

He hesitated on the line. "Yes, Evelyn. But that method is highly extreme. It could cause..."

"I want to do it. Now."

Inside the VIP lounge of a private club, Carter was sitting in the center of the plush leather sofa.

He was swirling a glass of neat Macallan.

A guy with a buzz cut leaned over:

"Man, how is it so quiet today, Carter? Your wife hasn't spammed your Snapchat with fifty calls yet?"

Carter's childhood friend, Mason, chimed in with a smirk:

"Hey, I heard she wanted you to meet her at the family court today? Is she actually trying to divorce you?"

"She's just putting on a show," Jax, the buzz-cut guy, sneered.

"Guys like us, our wives have to beg us to come home. Carter goes home every single night. What more does she want?"

"Exactly," another guy at the poker table agreed. "She hit the jackpot marrying a guy with your net worth. Divorce? She literally can't survive without you."

The guys laughed, throwing in their two cents, the atmosphere growing louder.

Carter didn't say a word. He just threw his head back and downed the whiskey.

He was purposely ignoring her today.

Responding meant giving in. Giving in meant admitting her divorce threat actually carried weight.

He wasn't going to play her game.

The heavy door of the lounge was pushed open, and Hailey poked her head in.

Her eyes were red. "Carter, my stomach hurts a little."

Carter stood up immediately. He set his empty glass on the coffee table and walked over to support her arm. "What's wrong?"

The guys at the table started whistling and teasing:

"Whoa, look at that. Ive never seen Carter look this stressed before."

"Well, Haileys got the golden ticket in her belly."

"Healthy mom, healthy heir..."

Mason tapped his cigarette against the ashtray, looking at Carter, and lowered his voice:

"Man, your wife is seriously obsessed. Last year, my girlfriend was waiting for me downstairs and ran into her. Evelyn interrogated her for thirty minutes asking where you were."

"I used to think she was just crazy, but damn, she actually is clinically insane."

The table erupted into laughter.

"Alright, stop talking. Her call is going to blow up his phone any second. Are we playing poker or what?"

"Of course we are," Jax said, shuffling the deck and slamming it on the table. "I bet fifty bucks she calls within thirty minutes."

"I bet an hour."

"Two hours. Carter said her record during a silent treatment is one day. Don't underestimate her obsession."

Carter helped Hailey sit down on the sofa.

Instinctively, his eyes drifted toward his phone on the coffee table.

The screen remained black.

He handed Hailey a tissue and looked back at the table. "Just play."

The game began.

Chips clinked as they were pushed across the green felt.

Laughter and cursing filled the room.

Three hours passed, and the game was winding down.

Mason stretched his arms, glancing at the coffee table.

"Wait, something's off. It's been over three hours. Not a single call from her?"

Someone else laughed, "She probably spammed his texts instead. Open your Snapchat, Carter. I bet there are fifty unread messages."

Carter didn't reply. He reached out, grabbed his phone, and tapped the screen.

But the most recent message in the chat was still the one she had sent yesterday morning:

[I'm here. When are you getting here?]

His brows knit together.

The men at the table looked at each other. "No way... literally nothing?"

The room went dead silent for a moment.

Suddenly, a phone vibrated. It belonged to Leo, Carter's driver.

He answered, listened for a second, and walked over to Carter.

"Mr. Sterling, it's for you. It's urgent."

Jaxs eyes lit up. "See! I told you! There she is!"

The others started laughing again.

Someone threw their cards on the table. "Damn, I lost the one-hour bet. I'll Venmo you."

The corner of Carter's mouth twitched upward into a confident, lazy smirk.

He crossed his legs and took the phone from Leo.

But the moment he heard the voice on the other end, his smirk vanished.

"What did you say?"

Carter froze, his hand tightening around the phone.

The guys were still joking. "What's the verdict? Is she crying? Is she begging you to come home?"

"Her codependency must have triggered an attack. She's probably hysterical."

Carter slowly lowered the phone from his ear.

His knuckles were white. He turned to Leo, his voice cold:

"Take Hailey home."

Hailey, who had been looking smug a second ago, gasped. "Carter? Where are you going? I want you to take me!"

"Go home."

It was a flat, icy command.

Without looking at her again, Carter grabbed his coat and stormed out of the club.

The moment he arrived at his corporate headquarters, he marched straight to the front desk.

"Did a delivery arrive for me?"

The receptionist stammered, startled by his intensity. "Y-yes, Mr. Sterling. A courier named Ethan Hayes left a package for you about ten minutes ago."

He snatched the manila envelope from her hand and ripped it open.

The words PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE glared back at him. His hands went numb.