Chapter 3

If the mistress didn't provoke me, I actually didn't care about his private romantic life.

We'd been married for ten years. The passion had long since faded.

Our son was in middle school, our daughter about to graduate elementary school.

The two children already took up most of my time and energy.

But the mistress had to go find my eldest son.

I learned about it when my son called me, saying some woman claimed to be his stepmother.

I rushed over immediately.

I could be indifferent about everything else, but not my children. Never my children.

When I arrived at the school gate, the mistress stood beside my son, smiling triumphantly at me.

I walked over and stood in front of my son:

"What do you think you're doing?"

The mistress crossed her arms in front of me: "Just letting your son get to know his future stepmother."

"What's wrong with that? Ethan just isn't divorcing you yet."

"He promised me he definitely will later."

It involved my son, and potentially the company's reputation too.

After all, this was an expensive private school.

The students who attended here came from wealthy families.

Several business contracts had been established through connections made via my son's classmates.

Quite a few people were already looking in our direction.

I was angry: "Get lost."

Seeing me angry, the mistress backed off instead, laughing:

"I never thought Ms. South could lose her temper."

"I thought you were made of paper—that nothing could make you angry."

I was somewhat provoked, and said coldly:

"If you don't leave now, I'll have someone drag you to the hospital for an abortion."

She panicked: "You wouldn't dare!"

"Ethan won't let you get away with it."

I raised my chin, lowering my voice threateningly:

"If you don't get lost, the media will show up here instantly and expose you."

"You tell me—what's more important, you or the company's reputation?"

The mistress panicked.

She glared at me resentfully.

I knew she wouldn't let this go, but she also wouldn't dare act rashly.

She was in it for the money.

If my husband's company ran into problems,

she'd lose her meal ticket.

And my husband would hate her.

After the mistress left, I turned to look at my son, my expression complex.

My eldest son gestured with his eyes for me to get in the car.

Once in the car, he said: "We need to protect my sister. I'm afraid that bad woman will hurt her."

I nodded.

I didn't expect that at dinner that evening, he'd bring it up:

"Dad, someone came to find me today and told me to call her stepmother."

My husband immediately guessed who it was, his expression uncomfortable:

"She's crazy. Ignore her. It won't happen again."

My son nodded calmly: "Okay."

"I don't want my sister to know."

My husband fled in embarrassment. My son and I exchanged glances without words.