My Ex’s Mistress Became My Husband’s Affair Chapter 01

My Ex’s Mistress Became My Husband’s Affair Chapter 01

My sister posted a hotel key card on her burner account.

The caption read: “I’m bored with my sister’s ex. Time for a taste of the new one.”

I screenshotted it and sent it straight to Vance, my ex-husband. I didn’t hide my satisfaction.

“Karma for cheating on me while I was pregn@nt,” I texted him.

“You were so desperate to divorce me for her. How does that green hat feel now?”

Vance left me on read. Thirty minutes later, he called, his laughter sounding dark and jagged.

“I caught the bastard. Get down to the precinct. We’ll see whose karma this really is.”

A knot of dread tightened in my chest.

When I pulled up to the station, I saw my current husband, Grant, swinging wildly at Vance.

Vance was a bruised mess, but he was still grinning at me.

“Skyler, the last time your husband sent me to the hospital, it cost you three million dollars.”

“Now he’s sleeping with my wife and still thinks he has the right to bash my face in. How are you going to pay for this one?”

Grant froze.

This was the man who had pulled me out of the shadows of my first marriage.

The man who had beaten Vance into the ground eighteen times in a single month just to defend my honor.

Now, he was standing like a shield in front of another woman.

He was terrified I might lay a finger on her.

The streetlights flickered on, and the woman looked up timidly.

The moment I saw her face, my bl0od turned to ice.

She was the mistress who destroyed my first marriage.

And now, she had successfully dismantled my second.

*****************

My mind went blank.

By the time I snapped back to reality, I was standing right in front of Grant.

“Why?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

He knew how badly I had lost in my last marriage.

He knew how much I hated Sloane, yet he still crawled into bed with her.

Grant pulled his fist back and shrugged. “It’s just what happens between a man and a woman.”

He let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

“Your ex was right about one thing, Skyler. Compared to Sloane, you really are boring and stiff.”

It felt like a hand had clamped around my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe.

Then came the sound of Sloane’s sobbing.

“Skyler, it’s all my fault. Please don’t fight with Grant because of me.”

Three years ago, when I was seven months pregn@nt, I walked into my own bedroom to find her with Vance.

Sloane had hidden behind him just like this, crying those same crocodile tears.

That day, I had gone into a frenzy, smashing everything in the room.

I screamed at Vance for being a pig. I cursed Sloane to hell.

But as I swung my hand to slap her, Vance—who had been watching coldly—shoved me.

I fell hard into the shattered glass.

bl0od pooled everywhere.

I couldn’t tell if it was mine or the baby’s.

When I woke up, the pregnancy was over.

I suddenly started laughing.

The tears were streaming down my face, but I didn’t even notice.

“When did it start?” I asked.

“All those promises about getting revenge for me—were they all lies too?”

Grant glanced at me with total indifference.

“I meant it at first. But then I realized I was getting the short end of the stick.”

“Vance sle//pt with you for years. I figured it was only fair I got a taste of his wife, too.”

The overhead lights buzzed and flickered.

I couldn’t understand how the man who once held me and swore my past didn’t matter had turned into this monster.

Sloane leaned into his chest, the marks on her neck were clearly visible.

She caught my gaze and gave me a triumphant smirk.

Suddenly, I had nothing left to say.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t break things like I did three years ago.

I just turned around and walked out of the precinct.

Sloane’s fake, high-pitched voice drifted after me.

“Grant, aren’t you going to go after your wife?”

Grant gave a dark chuckle.

“I just got into a fight with her ex. If I leave to coddle her, who’s going to take care of you?”

Those words cut deeper than the winter wind.

When I got home, I pulled the prenatal report from my bag.

I stared numbly at the words: Eight weeks pregn@nt.

After a long silence, I tore it into pieces and threw it in the tr@sh.

My phone buzzed.

It was a text from Sloane—a pinned location to the most notorious short-stay hotel in Metro City.

[Sister, you might be an idi//ot, but you have great taste in men.]

[They just keep getting better to be with.]

[Maybe when I’m bored with Grant, I’ll give him back to you.]