My 20yo Secret Lover

Seven years into our marriage, Sebastian cheated. With my son's teacher. I hurled my wedding band straight at his face. The gold bounced off his cheekbone.

He grabbed my arms, pinning them to my sides. "I like her, I admit that. But you're the only one I love!

Why can't we all just get along?" My palm cracked across his jaw. "Your love is cheap, Sebastian." He didn't flinch.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as his gaze slowly dragged over my face.

Then, the corner of his mouth twitched up. "Blair, you think you aren't cheap?" He leaned in. "What about when you wore a dollarstore veil just so you could marry me?

Weren't you cheap then?" He tilted his head. "And when you went under the knife for that tightening surgery just to keep me satisfied—wasn't that cheap?" Chapter 1 When property management called to say the old apartment complex was undergoing renovations and needed my signature, I had just walked out of the hospital.

Last week, Sebastian's mother had her gallbladder removed. He was conveniently on a business trip overseas, so I spent an entire week living in the hospital taking care of her.

The automatic doors slid shut behind me. My muscles ached with a bonedeep exhaustion, and a dull throb pounded behind my eyes. The old building didn't have an elevator.

I dragged my feet up six flights of concrete stairs, my breath coming in shallow rasps. Then, I stopped. The front door was open. Just a crack. My hand hovered over the doorknob.

Sebastian's voice drifted through the narrow gap. "Mhm? In such a rush?" "Lift your hips." "Teacher Melody… have any other men ever seen you like this?

Hmm?" Ice water injected straight into my veins. The blood rushed from my face. My feet rooted to the concrete, heavy as lead.

Ten minutes ago, my phone had buzzed with a text from him. [Just boarded the flight. Be home late.] My fingers clamped around the doorframe until my knuckles turned stark white.

I stared through the gap. Sebastian hoisted the woman onto the mahogany desk. He shoved his knees roughly between her slender calves. Her soft hands draped over his broad shoulders.

Broken whimpers slipped from her lips. My gaze dropped. Our wedding photo lay shattered on the hardwood floor. Shards of glass glittered under the overhead light.

A pair of sheer black pantyhose was tossed carelessly over my smiling face. "Sebastian, you're my first," she breathed. "And you'll be my last.

I promise." Her fingers reached down, tracing the silver buckle of his belt. The exact same leather belt I bought him for his birthday last month.

Heat flooded my chest, choking off my air. I snatched a porcelain vase from the entryway shelf. I hurled it straight at them. Sebastian reacted instantly.

He shifted his weight, shielding the woman as he dodged. The vase smashed into the wall. The explosive shatter rattled my teeth, snapping my fraying nerves.

The woman shrank back against his chest like a startled doe. Sebastian just gently peeled her arms off him. He didn't pull her behind him. He didn't even flinch.

His eyes locked onto mine. Zero panic. Zero guilt. He just stood there, unfazed, leisurely buttoning his dress shirt. "Blair, we were just playing around," he drawled. "I'm a man.

Sometimes I just need an emotional outlet." He smoothed his collar. "Don't overthink it. There's nothing serious going on here." He flicked a glance at the woman.

She caught the cue immediately. She scrambled off the desk, shoved her heels on, and snatched her purse. As she squeezed past me in the doorway, her chin tilted up.

A mocking smirk danced in her eyes. His absolute calm made my trembling hands look pathetic. He made me feel like the crazy one.

I stared at him. "Not even a single explanation, Sebastian?" He picked his suit jacket off the chair and draped it over his arm.

He dropped onto the leather sofa, crossing his legs. "Blair, I'm a man. A highly successful man." "It's normal for me to have a few women buzzing around. It's a societal perk.

A reward." "You should be counting your blessings that you secured a husband of my caliber, instead of standing here lecturing me about infidelity.

All you need to understand is that my love for you is unquestionable. That's enough." He spoke with the chilling composure of a judge, as if I were the one standing trial.

Chapter 2 I ripped the diamond band off my ring finger and hurled it right at his face. I wanted to scream, to tear the room apart. But he still didn't look mad.

Instead, he closed the distance between us, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me flush against his chest. "I know you're pissed. But put yourself in my shoes for a second.

You'll get it." He smoothed a hand down my back. "I admit I like her. But you are the only one I'll ever love." "Blair, can we just drop the drama?" My control snapped.

I slapped him. Hard. "Love? Sebastian, your love is dirt cheap!" He slowly turned his head back.

His tongue poked his inner cheek as a dark, muffled chuckle rumbled in his throat. "Cheap?

You've got the nerve to call me cheap?" He leaned into my space, his shadow swallowing me. "What about when you were desperate to marry me and bought that threedollar veil from a thrift store?

Weren't you cheap then?" He tilted his head, his eyes stripping me bare. "What about when you were so terrified I'd lose interest that you went under the knife for that tightening surgery?

Wasn't that cheap?" The words hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. All the air left my lungs. The blood drained from my face, leaving my skin icecold.

Maybe he realized he pushed too far. Sebastian's gaze flickered away, avoiding mine.

He picked up his car keys from the coffee table. "I have to head back to the office to handle some things." "Stay here and cool off." The heavy oak door clicked shut.

This was our marital home. My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the hardwood floor, right into the wreckage.

A jagged shard of glass from the shattered picture frame sliced deep into the base of my palm. Blood welled up, thick and warm, but I couldn't feel a thing.

When I was seventeen, Child Protective Services transferred me to a massive public high school downtown right after my deadbeat, gamblingaddicted father finally got locked up.

That was the year I met Sebastian. Juvenile delinquent. The bad boy. Those labels were practically tattooed on his forehead.

He was my lab partner, and I treated him like a walking biohazard. He loved calling me "Charity Case." He loved messing with me even more.

He'd hack my erasers to pieces, smear dirt across my homework, or draw eyeliner on me with a Sharpie when I fell asleep at my desk.

He'd scrawl his name across the covers of my textbooks. He never got bored of making my life a living hell.

Our first real interaction happened when some girls locked me inside the janitor's closet under the bleachers. Sebastian was the one who kicked the heavy door off its hinges.

By the time he got to me, I had passed out from a panic attack and lack of oxygen. He was the one who frantically carried me all the way to the nurse's office.

The second time was after a late shift at the school library. Someone had slashed the tires on my beatup bicycle.

He roared past me on his custom matteblack motorcycle, hit the brakes, and spun around. "Hey, Charity Case. Need a ride?" He patted the leather seat behind him.

A lot of people saw me wrap my arms around his waist that day. After that, nobody at school ever dared to mess with me again. To pay him back, I offered to tutor him for our finals.

But he couldn't have cared less about textbooks. "Charity Case, I don't need to study." It took me a while to find out he was the bastard son of a local real estate mogul. "Even affair babies get a slice of the inheritance," he told me once, flicking a lighter open and shut.

But right before graduation, his biological father suffered a massive stroke and fell into a coma. Sebastian's bank accounts were frozen overnight.

Every single person who used to kiss his ass suddenly turned on him, calling him a mutt, the homewrecker's kid.

I wanted to comfort him, but he just laughed it off. "A charity case and a mutt. We make a hell of a pair." Slowly, the walls between us crumbled. We started dating.

It was my first love—raw, clumsy, and dizzyingly sweet. Chapter 3 The year I got accepted into a university down south, he packed his bags and followed me.

I went to get a degree; he went to hustle. He delivered food, pulled graveyard shifts at manufacturing plants, and drove drunk people home as a designated driver.

He covered more than half of my living expenses. Marriage felt like the natural next step. We were dirt poor.

The only guests were our mothers and a handful of friends, all squeezed around a single card table in our cramped rental.

Wearing that threedollar veil I ordered online, I still felt like a real bride.

He held my hands that day and promised that once he made it big, he would buy me a proper wedding photoshoot. Not long after the wedding, his biological father died.

The old man's will left Sebastian a chunk of the estate. That inheritance became his seed money.

He was sharp, and leveraging the network he built at the manufacturing plants, he quickly raked in his first million. We finally took those wedding photos.

He even bought that cramped rental and put the deed in my name. He told me it held our sweetest memories. He called it his sanctuary. He swore he would never let anyone taint it.

Over the next few years, his empire expanded. He swallowed up his late father's company, cementing himself as the city's newest ruthless tycoon.

We moved into a sprawling, sunlit penthouse. Seven years of high society ground away his edges, molding him into the exact same breed of man his father had been. Arrogant.

Egotistical. Hypocritical. I pulled out my phone and dialed a luxury real estate agent. The sanctuary was tainted. I didn't want it anymore. The man, either.

Back at the penthouse, I immediately contacted a highpower attorney to draft a divorce settlement. Sebastian committed adultery.

With the right evidence presented in court, I would strip him of half his assets and corporate shares. But my son, Grayson… I carried him for ten months.

If Sebastian brought another woman into this house, Grayson would be pushed aside. I was taking my son with me. That was nonnegotiable. A frantic voice shattered my thoughts.

Agnes, our housekeeper, practically sprinted down the hallway. "Ma'am!

Grayson refuses to open his books, and he just threw his iPad at his private tutor's head!" I raced up the sweeping staircase to the second floor.

Grayson was sticking his tongue out at the bruised tutor. "Get out of here, loser! I'm not learning stupid English!" My jaw locked.

I stepped forward and snatched the iPad right out of his grip.

The screen was still flashing a multiplayer game lobby. "Apologize to your teacher right now." He was barely seven years old, but the defiant, razorsharp glare he shot me was a carbon copy of Sebastian. "No!" He shoved my arm, clawing desperately at the tablet. "Give it back!" "Teacher Melody is waiting in the lobby to duoqueue with me!

You're always ruining everything!" A sudden chill snapped down my spine. My fingers dug into his narrow shoulders, locking him in place. "Who is Teacher Melody?" Melody.

That was the woman's name. Grayson's private piano instructor. "I like Teacher Melody!

She's young, she's pretty, and she buys me burgers and ice cream!" Grayson screamed, his face flushed red. "She plays the piano! She carries me in my games! What do you do?

Nothing!" He wrenched himself out of my grip. "All you do is control me! You force me to study stupid things! You're a bad woman!" "I hate you!

Teacher Melody should be my mom!" I stared at my own flesh and blood. A sevenyearold didn't just naturally articulate a replacement for his own mother.

Someone fed him that script. Someone meticulously planted that poison in his head. Melody.

I slowly released his shoulders and shoved the iPad hard against his chest. "You like gaming so much?" I asked, my voice dropping to a dead, icy whisper. "Fine." "You don't step foot out of this room until you rank up five stars.

No dinner until it's done." If he wanted to play her games, I would force him to play until he made himself sick. Chapter 4 I opened Instagram.

It took less than a minute of scrolling through Sebastian's following list to find Melody's account. Her recent posts were subtle flexes of a newseason Chanel flap bag.

The exact same bag Sebastian gifted me last month. A sharp spike of acid burned the back of my throat. I scrolled further down. A photo dump from last week.

Location tag: Disneyland. He had taken dozens of candid shots of her, the framing and lighting perfect. He had put real effort into making her look beautiful.

In the center of the carousel was a group selfie.

Sebastian, Grayson, and her. [This is the exact kind of stable happiness I've always wanted.] They looked like the perfect little family of three.

It felt like a wad of wet cotton was shoved down my windpipe, making my eyes sting.

Last week, Sebastian told me he had an urgent business trip out of state, leaving me to live in the hospital taking care of his mother. And Grayson?

He had looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes. "Mom, since you have to take care of Grandma, I'll just board at school this week.

I'll be so good, I promise!" I had actually kissed his forehead and praised him for being so mature.

I never imagined my own flesh and blood would conspire with a stranger to play me for a fool. I was the only idiot in the room.

While I was emptying bedpans for his mother, he was playing house with his mistress. And he silently signed off on that woman stealing my son?

The sheer absurdity of it made my stomach pitch.

I kept scrolling to the very first visible post on her timeline from six months ago. [I'm a private music tutor, but I think I'm falling for my student's dad.

He's the CEO of a major company.

So handsome and refined—literally the pinnacle of men.] [Every time my student calls him 'Dad', I automatically imagine myself as his wife.] The comment section was a warzone, mostly people tearing her apart for being a homewrecker.

She only replied to a select few. [You guys don't even get it. My student told me his mom is just a basic SAHM. Unlike me, I have my own career, I'm young, and I'm pretty.

How can she even compete with me?] [I know it's morally gray, but when it comes to true love, who's to say what's right or wrong?] [At the end of the day, the one who isn't loved is the real third wheel.] Sebastian had liked that exact comment.

His stance was crystal clear. Complicity? Endorsement? The air rushed out of the room. I closed my eyes, the cold seeping straight into my bones.

Sebastian unlocked the bedroom door half past midnight. The cloying, sickeningly sweet stench of designer perfume rolled off his suit jacket, burning the inside of my nose.

I rolled over, putting my back to him. The mattress dipped.

A heavy arm familiarly snaked around my waist, his palm sliding straight up under the hem of my silk nightgown. "She's young and easily embarrassed.

It took me forever to coax her out of crying," he murmured against my shoulder. "Why are you even picking fights with her?

It's not like she could ever take your place." His thumb brushed over my ribs. "Come on, stop being mad. Let me make it up to you tonight, yeah?" Bile rose in my throat.

Sebastian and I hadn't had a normal sex life in months. After seven years, our bodies were as familiar to each other as the backs of our own hands.

He once told me that touching me was like touching his own arm—there was zero thrill left. I used to blame myself.

I convinced myself that giving birth to Grayson had ruined my body, that I could no longer physically satisfy him. I even went under the knife to fix it.

For a few weeks after the surgery, he devoured me like a starving animal. But the novelty wore off fast.

The exact timeline of his lost interest lined up perfectly with Melody's very first post.

Chapter 5 I intercepted his hand before it could wander any higher up my thigh. "I'm exhausted today. Just sleep." He let out a dismissive scoff.

The air in the room hung heavy for a few seconds before he finally broke the silence. "Tomorrow is the anniversary of your mother's passing.

I'll go with you." "Okay." I swallowed down the hard lump forming in my throat. I could finally get some sleep.

Barely seven in the morning, Grayson pounded his fists against my bedroom door. "I told you yesterday! I wanted a fresh crab benedict this morning!

Why is your memory so garbage, Mom?" he yelled through the wood. "Teacher Melody would never forget!" Just like his father, he had developed a ridiculous, highmaintenance appetite.

They always complained that our housekeeper didn't prep the fresh seafood to their exact standards.

So, for years, I dragged myself out of bed at six in the morning every single day just to cook for the two of them from scratch. "Then go find your Teacher Melody." I pulled the door open, my face blank.

He froze. Then, his face scrunched up, and he let out a highpitched scream, waking Sebastian. Sebastian threw the covers off. "Grayson, do you want a beating?

Don't yell at your mother." He rubbed his face and glared out into the hallway. "Agnes, what are you standing around for? Take him to school.

Grab a burger on the way." His voice dripped with raw morning irritation. Now wide awake, I abandoned the bed.

I sat on the living room sofa, texting my lawyer about the details of the divorce settlement. Sebastian walked out of the master bedroom right as a message popped up. "Divorce?

Who's getting a divorce?" I instantly locked my phone screen. "Daphne. I mentioned her to you a while ago." He didn't ask anything else and disappeared into the bathroom.

A few weeks ago, my friend Daphne filed for divorce because her husband cheated. Sebastian had actually laughed at her. "Everything she has comes from her husband.

I bet she won't actually go through with it. Blowing things out of proportion over something so small." "Is it really worth it?" Infidelity.

In their elite circle, it was just a minor slipup. A small thing. I should have seen the red flags ages ago.

Instead, I was a step too late, forced to witness that sickening scene with my own two eyes. Right as I grabbed my purse to leave, Sebastian's phone rang.

A few minutes later, he walked over, plastering an apologetic look on his face. "Blair, an emergency came up at the company. I need to head in and handle it." "Can you—" "Fine.

Go." I cut him off before he could finish. He blinked, visibly thrown off for a split second. But only a second. I didn't look at him again.

I slipped on my sunglasses, grabbed my car keys, and walked out the door. The heavy deadbolt clicked shut behind me.

I drove to the cemetery alone. "Mom, I'm divorcing Sebastian." I knelt down and placed a fresh bouquet of her favorite daisies against the cold headstone. "He didn't come to see you this time.

And he probably won't ever come again." My mother passed away during the second year of our marriage. I was her only worry.

On her deathbed, she practically begged Sebastian to take good care of me.

He had dropped to his knees right beside her hospital bed, gripping her frail hand. "Mom, don't worry," he swore, his voice choking with earnest emotion. "I will treat Blair right for the rest of my life." Every single year since she passed, he always stood by my side on this exact date.

Even if he was stuck in a boardroom halfway across the globe, he would book the next flight back just to visit her grave, then fly out again the next morning.

He used to say that if he didn't show up, my mom would think he didn't love me anymore. I knew he prioritized this day because he loved me, and because he respected my mother.

But when the love is gone, none of it matters anymore.

I brushed a fallen leaf off the carved letters of her name. "Mom, even without Sebastian… I'll still be happy." Chapter 6 I left the cemetery and met my lawyer at a downtown cafe.

His expression was grim. "Ms. Blair, the evidence you've provided isn't enough to definitively prove infidelity. They could just claim they are close friends.

That puts us at a massive disadvantage for splitting the assets." Just then, a notification popped up on my phone screen. A friend request. From Melody. I accepted it immediately.

A second later, an incoming video call rang out. My lawyer was fast. He instantly pulled out his own phone and hit record. The background looked like an apartment.

The camera angle showed she was propped up in bed. The lens panned. My breath hitched. There, standing in her kitchen, was Sebastian. He was stirring a pot of soup on the stove.

How rare. I hadn't seen him cook a single meal in years. On the other side of the bed stood my son, Grayson.

He was tightly gripping Melody's hand. "Teacher Melody, with me and Dad here to take care of you, you'll definitely get better." Melody let out a soft, breathy laugh. "But if you and your dad stay with me, what about your mom?" Grayson puffed out his cheeks. "I don't like her!

I want you to be my mom. Dad likes you too! I'm gonna make Dad divorce her!

We'll kick her out, and then Dad can marry you!" Melody pinched his cheek. "Our Grayson is so smart!" Sebastian walked into the frame, carrying a steaming bowl of chicken soup. "You're a grown woman and you still don't know how to take care of yourself.

What would you do without me today?" Melody propped herself up on her elbows and pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank God I have you." The screen went black.

The call ended. Even though I had already prepared myself to leave him, the video still hit me like a sledgehammer to the temple.

A sickening dizziness washed over me, blurring the edges of my vision. My lawyer hit save on the recording.

He reached over and gave my shoulder a brief pat. "I'm sorry." A bitter smile forced its way onto my face. "Well, at least that bumps our win rate up by another thirty percent, doesn't it?" I stood up from the booth and dialed Sebastian's number.

He picked up on the second ring. "Blair—" "We're getting a divorce.

The papers will be delivered to you." "What are you talking about?" "I saw the video," I cut in, my voice dead and hollow. "You three look like a perfect little family.

I wish you the best. You two deserve each other." I hung up the phone before he could utter a single syllable.

I blocked his number, walked out of the cafe, and booked a room at a nearby luxury hotel. The presidential suite. I was finally done.

No more dragging myself out of bed at six in the morning to serve that father and son. No more managing his social calendar.

No more emptying bedpans to play the devoted daughterinlaw. To hell with being the perfect, dutiful wife. [Sebastian] I called Blair five times in a row.

Every single call went straight to voicemail. I pressed my thumb hard into the center of my forehead, a sharp throb building behind my eyes.

Melody ladled another scoop of soup into my bowl. "Is your wife mad? Maybe you should hurry back. She doesn't have a good temper like me. Who knows how she'll punish you!

I'd feel so bad for you." I slammed the silver spoon down into the porcelain bowl. "She wouldn't dare." I leaned back against the chair. "I've spoiled her rotten over the years.

Her skills haven't improved, but her temper sure has.

I'll just freeze her out for a few days." "It'll grind down her attitude and remind her exactly who gave her everything she currently owns." I said the words, but a dark, jagged knot of irritation had already planted itself in my chest, and I couldn't shake it loose.

Chapter 7 Daphne was the first friend to know about my divorce.

After divorcing her own husband last month, she immediately snagged a trustfund kid three years her junior and opened a highend nightclub right downtown.

She was far from the penniless wreck Sebastian had predicted. Dozens of goldplated Ace of Spades bottles lined her polished mahogany VIP table.

She clamped a slim cigarette between her manicured fingers and sparked a lighter. "I didn't realize what a miserable life I was living until I finally ditched that deadbeat." She blew out a thick plume of smoke. "These scumbags really think they're royalty." "If they can trade in for younger models, why the hell should we sit around playing the devoted wives?" She nudged my arm. "Want me to introduce you to some heavy wallets?" I grabbed my shot glass and downed the amber liquid in one fiery gulp. "I'm sick of the richguy circle.

I want a change of pace. Got anyone like that?" She flicked her ash and leaned in, a sly glint in her eyes. "Actually, I do have exactly one.

If he wasn't so young, I'd have snatched him up myself.

Flawless face, perfect height, still in college." "Aside from being dead broke and carrying some serious family baggage… he's a ten." That was how I met twentyyearold Ezra.

He stood sixfoottwo, clutching a heavy tray of beers to his chest, making the spacious VIP booth suddenly feel suffocatingly small.

When his eyes locked onto mine, his steps faltered. His throat bobbed. "Miss, would you like to try our new promotional draft?

The ABV isn't too high…" Daphne waved off his robotic sales pitch.

She gestured for him to step closer and poked my ribs. "With a face like that, it's a tragic waste that he won't do VIP host work.

He insists on just serving drinks." She scoffed. "Please, how much can you really make carrying trays?" A deep flush crawled up Ezra's neck.

His thumbnail dug nervously into the side of his index finger. I tried to defuse the tension. "Drop it, Daphne.

He's too young to—" "I'm not a kid." His voice sliced cleanly through the heavy bass of the club. His dark, intensely bright eyes locked directly onto mine, pinning me in place.

Daphne's jaw actually dropped. "Wait a second. When I asked you to do VIP hosting before, you told me you were too young!

Now you're—" Ezra shot a quick, nervous glance at me before his thick lashes dropped, staring at his sneakers. "I won't host for anyone else.

But for her… I will." Daphne let out a sharp, amused bark of laughter. She crushed her cigarette into the crystal ashtray and shot me a knowing look. "Alright then.

Looks like he's fixed on you. I'll get out of your hair." I had zero experience navigating this kind of dynamic.

I just pulled him down onto the leather sofa beside me and made him talk.

It all boiled down to a classic, brutal tragedy: a dead dad, a chronically ill mom, a little sister named Willow, and him, breaking his back to hold the shattered pieces together.

For the first time, I felt the cold, heavy privilege of the upper class looking down on the desperate. The alcohol burned hot and reckless in my veins.

My fingers slid seamlessly over his, gripping his rough knuckles. "Why don't you just follow me? I'll take care of you." Blame it on the liquor.

I ended up dragging Ezra all the way back to my hotel's presidential suite. I spent the next hour emptying my stomach into the marble toilet.

My memories were fragmented, but I knew he stayed. He wiped my face with a damp towel and forced warm water down my burning throat until the early hours of the morning.

I vaguely remembered him answering my ringing phone at some point in the dark. I woke up to a splitting migraine. I squinted against the glaring screen of my phone.

Ninetynine missed calls. All from Sebastian. He must have finally been served the divorce papers. I hit call back.

I just needed to remind him not to be late for our first court date next month