Betrayed by My CEO Husband I Froze His Fortune and Ended His Mistress

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I'd just stepped out of a team dinner with my coworkers.

That's when I spotted thema young couple by the window. The man was carefully peeling shrimp for the woman, his attention wholly devoted to her.

My colleague sighed wistfully. See, that's what romance looks like.

She nudged me, gesturing toward the pair. "I bet your husband does that for you every night, huh? Peels your shrimp like a gentleman?"

I opened my mouth to explain that Roger Simmons was allergic to shrimp. In five years together, shellfish had never once touched our table.

Then the man turned his head, laughing at something the woman said.

My expression froze. The blood in my veins turned to iceand then, inexplicably, I laughed.

Roger Simmons. The same Roger Simmons who supposedly couldn't be in the same room as shrimp without breaking into hives. There he was, leaning across the table to bite the half-eaten shrimp right out of her mouth, his face glowing with a happiness I hadn't seen in years.

1.

The woman startled, pushing him away with both hands. She covered her face, flustered.

"People are watching!"

"Have you no shame?!"

Roger's eyes crinkled at the corners, his voice dripping with indulgence. "You're my girlfriend. Why would I care who sees?"

That voice. I knew that voicebut not that tone. Never that tone. Not for me.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest as I watched him gently pull her hands away from her face, gazing at her like she was something precious.

"Why so shy?" he murmured. "You're nothing like this in bed."

Beside me, my colleague was already whispering to the others.

"People these days have no shame."

"Right out in public."

"Talking about that."

My feet felt like they'd been filled with lead. My chest heaved. The sheer impact of betrayal threatened to crack my ribs open from the inside.

I kept my eyes locked on themon Roger and this woman, flirting like teenagersand pulled out my phone. I took photos. One. Two. Three. Then I opened my chat with Roger and stared at the messages he'd sent thirty minutes ago.

[Honey, I have to work late tonight.]

[Don't wait up for dinner.]

[Love you.]

My eyes burned. My colleague tugged at my arm, ready to leave, and I understood: if I pretended I hadn't seen anything, maybe Roger and I could maintain the illusion a little longer. Keep the surface smooth.

But just as I reached the restaurant entrance

"How much longer do we have to sneak around like this?"

The woman's voice, petulant and sharp.

"My grandfather's birthday banquet is next month. My mom keeps asking me to bring you home."

Her words landed like hammer blows against my heart.

"I can't exactly tell them" she said, each syllable a nail driven deeper, "that I'm actually some married man's dirty little secret. That I'm the mistress nobody's supposed to know about."

"And turn my whole family into a joke."

My footsteps halted.

I had assumedfoolishly, perhapsthat she was innocent. That even if I had to confront this, I shouldn't drag some naive girl into the wreckage. That whatever needed to happen between Roger and me, we should handle it cleanly, between ourselves.

I'd planned to tell her the truth. That she'd been deceived.

But this?

This made everything so much simpler.

A cold smile curved my lips as Roger's voice floated over.

"Don't worry."

"Everything I owe you"

"I'll make it up to you. All of it."

I drew a deep breath and gently freed my arm from my colleague's grip.

"Wait here for me."

I met her confused gaze.

"There's something I need to handle."

Before she could respond, I was already moving.

I walked straight to Roger's table, picked up the glass of orange juice in front of him, and threw it directly in his face.

His expressionpure, slack-jawed shockwas almost worth the five years.

I smiled.

"What a coincidence."

"Roger Simmons."

"Of all the restaurants in the city, you picked my team dinner spot to parade your affair. Should I compliment your taste in venues, or should I compliment"

My gaze dropped to the mountain of shrimp shells on the table. The mockery rose like bile.

"your miraculous recovery from that shrimp allergy?"

"Roger!"

I grabbed the second glass of orange juice, ready to drench him againbut his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist.

"Lori!"

"Let me explain!"

I stared at the hand Roger had clamped around my wristhis ring finger still bearing the wedding band that matched mine. Watching the panic flicker across his face, the fury I'd barely managed to suppress came roaring back.

Before he could get another word out, I wrenched my arm free and swung.

The slap cracked across his face.

"How dare you hit him!"

The woman scrambled up from her seat and shoved me hard, positioning herself in front of Roger like a shield. Her voice was shrill, indignant.

"Who do you think you are?"

"You have no right to touch my boyfriend!"

I looked at herreally lookedand almost laughed. Then I turned to Roger, whose expression had twisted into something complicated. I reached for the napkins on the table, calmly wiped my wrist where he'd grabbed me, and smiled.

"Why don't you tell her?"

My voice was ice.

"Tell her exactly who I am. Tell her whether or not I have the right to slap a dog who can't keep it in his pants."

Roger's face cycled through shock, then confusion, thenas he took in my relentless stare and the woman's defiant posturesomething hardened. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from me.

"Lorraine." His jaw tightened. "When it comes to relationships, it takes two to tango."

He pulled the woman behind him. By then, my coworker had caught up and moved to my side. "You need backup?" she muttered.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes on Roger.

"Lorraine." He squared his shoulders. "We were together five years. Married for two. Have you ever stopped to consider how many problems you brought to this marriage?"

He met my gaze without flinching.

"Yes, I built my life in this city because of you. Yes, my success exists because of your connections. But that doesn't give youor your familythe right to look down on me every single day."

He stepped closer.

"I can apologize. I can come home with you."

His expression flickered with something that might have been struggle.

"But don't take this out on Judy Fox. She's innocent." Even now, he was making excuses for her. "She's youngshe can't have her reputation destroyed. Her grandfather is in poor health; he can't handle the stress. Whatever issues we have"

His gaze slid from me to my coworker, who was glaring at him like she wanted to tear him apart.

"we can discuss at home."

I listened to him lay it all out so reasonably, every word designed to protect the woman named Judy, and I could have laughed.

Five years together. Three years married.

When Roger first started his company, I'd begged favors from everyone I knew. My parents pulled every string they had. His entire startup fund? My parents had mortgaged their assets to loan it to him.

Back then, whenever Roger mentioned any of this, his eyes would redden with emotion.

"Lori," he'd say. "I owe you everything. For the rest of my life, I'll make it up to you. I'll treat you right. I'll treat your family right."

Now?

Now it was: "Lorraine. Yes, I relied on you. But that doesn't mean you get to let your family look down on me."

I stared at this man I'd loved for seven years. I'd told myself I would handle this calmly, rationally. But hearing him speak, my chest seized so violently I could barely stay on my feet.

Then my coworker's voice cut through the haze, sharp with outrage.

"Un-fucking-believable. So what I'm hearing is you're a textbook gold-digger who climbed your way up using her, and now that you've made it, you've traded her in for a younger model?"

She stepped in front of me, jabbing a finger toward the woman.

"And you have the audacity to make her the villain?"

"You really think you're something special, don't you?"

I watched my coworker advance on the woman, ready to tear her apart.

"And YOU!"

"Homewrecker extraordinaireacting like you've actually accomplished something!"

My coworker jabbed a finger at the designer necklace glittering around the girl's throat.

"Unless my eyes are deceiving me, that little trinket was bought with MY friend's money!"

She was seething now.

"Take it off and give it back to her!"

She lunged forward. The girl shrieked in terror, but Roger grabbed my coworker's wrist and hurled her aside. She crashed into a table, sending everything scattering across the floor. Then I heard him roar:

"Lorraine!"

"Is THIS how you were raised?!"

The girl cowered in Roger's arms, tears streaming down her face like rain on pear blossomsthe picture of wounded innocence.

"Roger and I are truly in love!" she sobbed.

"He stopped loving you ages ago!"

"Lorraine! He doesn't love you!"

My coworker was still sprawled on the ground, but that didn't stop her from screaming: "I'll beat you both to deathyou shameless cheater and your pathetic side piece!"

She scrambled to her feet, ready to tear into them again. But suddenly... I felt nothing. No rage. No desperation. Just a hollow calm.

I walked over and pulled her behind me, positioning myself between her and Roger. His expression shifted to wariness.

"Apologize to my friend."

Roger stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Roger." I'd expected this moment to shatter meto feel my heart being crushed until I couldn't breathe. But watching someone else burn with fury on my behalf, watching someone fight for me... it cleared my head instead. "Apologize to my friend."

"You've gone insane!"

The words barely left his mouth.

I swung my purse and cracked it across his skull. Then I seized the girl by her hair and slammed her face into the corner of the table.

"Roger Simmons."

My voice was ice.

"I won't let this go."

Then I turned, took my coworker's arm, and walked out of the restaurant.

She'd only been at the company six months. I'd trained her myself, mentored her from day one.

Now she sat in my passenger seat, face creased with worry. But I just stared at my phone, perfectly calm, as Roger's messages flooded in:

[Lorraine! You went way too far today!]

[Do you have any ideasomeone filmed your little scene at the restaurant and posted it online! If this spreads, how is Judy supposed to show her face?!]

[Post something immediately to clear this up. Do that, and I'll pretend nothing happened.]

[Lorraine, don't forgetyour parents are retired. Your entire family depends on ME now. I'm not the man I used to be!]

Then a friend request popped up.

From the girl Roger had been so desperate to protect.

Judy Fox.

She sent videos. Photos. And a message:

[Lorraine, Roger stopped loving you a long time ago. Staying with you was just obligation.]

[Since we're all done pretending now...]

[Why bother hiding anymore? So what if public opinion destroys me? The brave get to enjoy the world first!]

[The more people attack me, the more your husband loves me. The better my odds. Believe it or not!]

I watched the video she'd sent.

Roger, already making arrangements to transfer assets. His voice on a phone call, giving instructions:

"Separate everything from my marriage to Lorraineincluding my overseas holdings. Transfer it all into Judy's name. Make it seamless. Lorraine has zero tolerance for deception, so I need to prepare for the worst."

"Understood, sir."

"If Lorraine can accept this situation, admit she was wrong, and make room for Judy... then fine. She stays Mrs. Simmons."

"But if she refuses to know her place?"

"Then I'll make sure Lorraine ends up with nothing."

I stared at that familiar face on my screen.

A chill seeped through me, settling deep in my bones.

The man I'd shared a bed with for yearsthe moment I caught him cheating, his first instinct wasn't fear. Wasn't remorse.

It was demanding that I clear his mistress's name.

So he wanted me to legitimize his mistressand then tolerate her existence.

I laughed. Actually laughed.

But Roger wasn't wrong about one thing.

I really couldn't stand a single grain of sand in my eye.

So when my friend sent over Judy's fileand received the videos and photos I'd forwardedshe called me, already laughing.

"I have to say, Roger found himself a real idiot!"

"We didn't even need to go digging for evidence. She gift-wrapped it and handed it right to us!"

My friend's laughter rang through the phone.

"Those videos alone are enough to bury Roger. And then there's your marital assets."

"Also," she asked, "when your parents backed his startup, didn't he sign a promissory note?"

He had.

Roger had insisted on writing that note. He'd made me film the entire thingsaid it was to give my family peace of mind.

Even when my parents refused, even when I said it really wasn't necessary.

Roger wouldn't budge.

"Lori."

"I don't want anyone thinking I'm taking advantage of your family."

"Keep this safe. It's your protection for the future."

Now.

I stared at that promissory note in my hands, at the USB drive containing the video, listening to my friend say

"With all this"

"There's more."

I cut her off. I pulled out the company registration documents from when Roger founded the business. He'd consulted some fortune teller back then, who said my birth chart was more auspicious, better for attracting wealth. So he'd registered the company under my name.

Including every piece of real estate we owned together.

I spread everything across the table.

"This is enough to make Roger come crawling."

I told my friend.

"I don't just want Roger left with nothing. I want his reputation in ruins."

I returned home from the law firm to the apartment Roger and I had shared for three years. At the entryway, there it wasroses Roger had prepared for me. Withered now, unrecognizable, with a card resting on top:

Hope my wife is happy forever.

A little smiley face drawn in the corner.

Roger used to bring me flowers every single day. Five years straight, without fail.

Now.

I watched him walk in carrying a fresh bouquet, his expression perfectly calm as he met my gaze.

"Lori."

As if nothing had happened, he set the flowers on the entryway table and tossed the dead roses into the trash.

"We're husband and wifeone unit. Those women out there? They're just entertainment."

"You should understand that." He stepped closer. "Can we stop this nonsense?"

The perfume clinging to him wasn't mine.

That cloying sweetness turned my stomach. I stepped back instinctively, and my palm connected with his face before I could think. I threw the divorce agreement at him.

"Roger."

"Adultery during marriage. Fraudulent transfer of marital assets. Every cent you spent on Judy." My voice was ice. "You have two choices."

I watched his expression freeze.

"Option one: sign, and we divorce with dignity."

Roger picked up the agreement, staring at me in disbelief.

"Option two: fight me in court." I held his stunned gaze. "Less dignified, but you'll still walk away with nothing."

Roger ripped the papers in half with a violent jerk. A cold laugh escaped him.

"Lorraine!"

"You're dreaming!"

"Walk away with nothing?"

"Who the hell do you think you are!"

He flung the shredded agreement into the air. Fragments drifted down like snow, scattering across the floor.

I watched his face darken to thunder as he closed in on me, every word bitten off.

"You want me to leave with nothing?"

"Not. A. Chance."

He opened his mouth to say more, but his phone exploded with notifications. Irritated, he glanced at the caller ID, jabbed the answer button, and bellowed into the receiver

"What is it!"

Then

I watched the color drain from Roger's face inch by inch until he was deathly pale, staring at me in disbelief.