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I’m Jean Reed. Five years into our marriage, a private honeymoon video of Ethan and me has unexpectedly ignited a firestorm online. The scene in the video remains vivid, yet I am being ruthlessly tossed about by fate in this vortex of public opinion.
Just as I was reeling from this sudden upheaval, Ethan brazenly walked into our home with his mistress Enya. Enya nestled against him, a hint of triumph subtly gleaming in her eyes.
Ethan didn’t even glance at me, saying coldly, “Enya is still young. If she wants to cause trouble, just let her. Don’t worry too much; we’ve been married for so many years. Who would even be interested in that video anymore?” He paused, then added, “Enya is pregnant, and she’s demanding to be recognized. Let’s get a divorce first, and you can come back after the baby is
born.”
With that, he slapped the divorce agreement he’d already prepared down in front of me, as if he were disposing of a worthless piece of trash.
I sat there, stunned and blank, the laughter and chatter of Ethan’s friends echoing as if from a
great distance, yet piercingly clear in my ears.
“I bet she won’t survive without President Mook. Give it a month, and she’ll be back, begging
to be taken in.” One of them said with a smirk.
“Exactly. She’s been a housewife for the last five years; she probably doesn’t have any marketable skills.” Another person chimed in.
I bit my lip, my nails digging into my palm, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of humiliation. The
honeymoon suite video kept playing on their phones, the sound like sharp knives, repeatedly cutting into my heart.
“Sister Jean has a great figure, a 36D, but she’s still lacking compared to Enya.” “President Mook’s tactics are impressive, first his wife, now the campus beauty.”
“To make Enya happy, he’d even send out a video like that. Mook really spoils her.”
Every word they spoke was like a thorn, making my face burn with shame and leaving me
feeling like I was sitting on pins and needles. Ethan, completely indifferent to my feelings, held
Enya close, never once looking at me directly.
“Don’t flatter yourself. In your current state, no one will even care about that video.” He
repeated, a hint of impatience in his voice, “Enya is pregnant and emotionally unstable. Move out
before she gives birth. I’ll bring you back after the baby is born, naturally.”
My hand trembled as I held the pen, unable to bring myself to sign. This marriage, which I fought so hard for, is now ending in such a humiliating way. Two minutes passed, and Ethan’s expression grew increasingly severe.
“That’s enough. I told you this is just a game. Before long, you’ll still be Mrs. Mook.” His voice was as cold as ice. “Jean, don’t push your luck.”
His friends joined in the laughter.
“Mook, don’t be so harsh. Your wife must be reluctant to leave you; after all, being with you, she doesn’t have to do anything and still gets money.”
093 Mon, 21 Apr
she doesn’t have to do anything and still gets money.”
“Exactly. If I were a woman, I’d cling to Mook too.”
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Surrounded by this endless mockery, I took a deep breath, no longer hesitated, and signed my name on the divorce agreement. Since this marriage was already so unbearable, why should I hold on?
Oh, how generous of you, sister–in–law, to be able to tolerate this.” Someone said sarcastically.
I didn’t want to hear their mockery any longer and turned to leave. Just then, Enya hurried over to me and grabbed my arm, her feigned concern making me feel sick.
“Jean, don’t be upset. President Mook said I’m only staying here for a few months to help you out. You’ll always be the Mrs. Mook.” As she spoke, she deliberately rubbed her ample breasts against me. “I’m just worried about upsetting you, being pregnant and all. President Mook still cares about you.”
I couldn’t bear her touch any longer and instinctively shoved her away. Unexpectedly, she fell backward, landing hard on her bottom, a look of pain twisting her face. She cried out, “Jean, why did you push me? I was only trying to explain things, and now my stomach hurts so much!”
Ethan, seeing this, rushed to cradle Enya in his arms, his eyes blazing with anger as he glared
at me. “Don’t move out yet. Wait until Enya is out of danger.” He commanded coldly.
I knew I couldn’t leave this villa like it or not. I could only grit my teeth, swallow my humiliation, and nod. Enya wasn’t Ethan’s first mistress, but she was the most challenging for me to handle. The last time she confronted me, I’d already lost heart in this marriage and considered leaving. But the servant discovered my packed luggage and reported it to Ethan. That time, he punished me by making me kneel in the freezing snow for an entire night. A chain, as thick as my finger, was tightly fastened around my neck. I can never forget that cold and humiliation.
Watching Ethan carry Enya upstairs, I remained downstairs, consumed by despair. I took out my phone and sent a message to an unsaved number: “The wedding may be postponed a few days. Would you mind it?”
