My Husband’s Mistress Is My Sister Chapter 11

My Husband’s Mistress Is My Sister Chapter 11

Grace insisted they take things slow, rebuild their connection from scratch. Separate bedrooms.

One afternoon, she came into Ethan’s home office holding a plate of sliced mango. Her smile was bright. “Ethan, I think I remembered something.”

Ethan went very still.

“You love mangoes,” she said. “You used to call me every day before you left the office and ask me to cut some up for you.”

The words hit him like ice water.

Julian loved mangoes.

The memory Grace was recalling belonged to him.

When Ethan didn’t respond, Grace tilted her head. “What’s wrong? Did I remember wrong? I thought my husband loved mangoes. Do I have another husband I don’t know about?”

Ethan laughed, though it came out strained. “No. That’s me. I just… I’m happy, that’s all. I can’t believe you remembered.”

To prove it, he ate the mango. Ate every slice. Even as hives started spreading up his arms, across his back. Neither of them acknowledged it.

They smiled. They ate.

Like the perfect couple. Or two people too far gone to stop.

Over the next few days, Grace kept remembering things.

She took Ethan bungee jumping because, she said, “My husband was always into extreme sports.”

Ethan was terrified of heights. When he got back to solid ground, pale and shaking, he said, “It’s not the heights. Just been working too much. Stomach’s been off.”

Grace smiled sweetly. “You should have said something. Next time we’ll skip it.”

The next day, she remembered her husband loved spicy hot pot.

Ethan, who never touched spicy food, ended up in the hospital that night with a gastric attack.

In the dark, Grace sat beside his bed and watched him sleep.

Her face gave nothing away.

After that, she stopped remembering things about her mystery husband.

Ethan let himself exhale.

Playing along with her memories had been brutal, hearing her talk about someone else, pretending to be that man just to keep her close. The physical pain was nothing compared to that.

The day of the wedding arrived.

They’d changed everything. Instead of a big church wedding, they’d planned something small and intimate, a clean break from her first marriage, which had been all white dresses and a packed chapel.

Ethan stood at the altar, watching her walk down the aisle. She moved slowly, her face hidden behind a delicate lace veil, and for a moment, everything felt right. His eyes burned with tears as he made a silent promise to himself: I’ll never hurt her again. I’ll make her happy. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it.

Then she reached him. He lifted the veil.

And found himself staring at Vanessa.

“Where’s Grace?” Panic flooded his voice.

At the same moment, the massive screen behind the altar lit up with a video, the

dashcam footage from the night he’d first slept with Vanessa.

her.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“Are they seriously playing that at their own wedding?”

Ethan and Vanessa both went rigid.

She tried to block the screen. But Ethan was already scanning the room, looking for the exit, looking for

Near the back, the doors were swinging shut.

And beyond them, he saw her.

“Grace!”

He shoved past Vanessa, past his parents, and ran.