My Husband's Mistress is My New Maid

I discovered Julian had been keeping a mistress for the past three years—on my dime. "The apartment she lives in is under my name.

Her living expenses come straight from my company account.

Even the necklace around her neck was swiped on my credit card." I tapped my fingernail against the desk. "Since my money paid for her, she is my asset." The lawyer stared at me blankly.

He stammered out a reminder that a mistress wasn't a marital asset and couldn't be divided in a divorce. A faint smile touched my lips. "How you handle this case is your problem.

I only have one demand." I met his gaze dead on. "Either they pay back every single cent, or I take her." A few days later, the doorbell rang.

Seraphina stood on my porch, hauling two massive suitcases. "Sutton," she said, her fingers gripping the handles tight. "I don't have the money." "I can only pay you back with my body." Chapter 1 "My husband has been using my money to fund his little mistress for years.

By all rights, she belongs to me." The lawyer set his coffee cup down.

A muscle twitched near his eye, but he recovered his professional mask in a heartbeat. "Sutton, what exactly are you suggesting…" "I mean she is an asset I paid for." I stirred my latte, the metal spoon clinking softly against the ceramic. "In the divorce settlement, he gets nothing." "Instead, I want the woman." He stared at me in silence before flipping open the dossier again, probably checking if I needed a psychiatric evaluation.

The files were meticulous. My private investigator deserved an employeeoftheyear award. Photos, bank transfers, text screenshots.

Three years of hard evidence, neatly stacked inside a manila envelope. Julian. My husband. To the public, he was a selfmade tech founder.

Behind closed doors, high society whispered about him being the ultimate social climber. My parents despised his workingclass roots.

I fought them tooth and nail to marry him, shoved him into the Csuite, and handed him absolute power and unlimited funds.

And he used it to keep a mistress on the side for three years. Three entire years. I stared at the glossy prints scattered across the desk.

The girl was young, maybe twentyfive, with long dark hair and an aloof, icy face. In every single shot, she looked deeply annoyed by his presence.

Yet there was Julian, hovering around her like a desperate puppy. He looked fragile, eager to please. It was a complete 180 from the polite, distant man who slept in my guest room.

He actually knew how to grovel for love. Just not with me. I used to think he was gay. We had not touched each other in years. Granted, a large part of that was my doing.

You know how rich, older men obsess over innocent, broke girls who do not know any better? I had the same complex. I liked Julian's clean, untouched boynextdoor aesthetic.

He was a museum piece to me. I did not want to dirty him or ruin whatever twisted dynamic we had going on. Call me crazy, but that was my reality. He played the part perfectly.

He was obedient, kept his distance, and I rewarded good behavior with blank checks. Now the blindfold was off. He was not keeping his distance out of respect.

He was saving himself for her—even if she could not care less. The lawyer cleared his throat. "Sutton, your demand… it lacks legal precedent.

A mistress is a human being, not marital property." "She can be." I picked up my coffee. He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. "The condo she lives in is under Julian's name.

Her monthly allowance comes straight from my company payroll. Even the diamond on her neck was swiped on my Amex." I met his gaze. "He bought her with our shared funds.

That makes her joint property. Save the legal lectures." I swept the photos back into the envelope. "How you win this is your problem. I am only giving you the angle.

I have exactly one demand." I let a smile touch my lips. "Either they pay back every single cent, or I take her." Chapter 2 My name is Sutton. I am thirtytwo.

Before I turned thirtytwo, I thought I had won the lottery of life. I came from old money, and my husband was younger, ambitious, and obedient.

I never expected him to screw around right under my nose. I found out everything on the day I turned thirtytwo. Julian claimed he had an outofstate business trip.

I was out to dinner with a friend. Walking past a highend French restaurant, I spotted him through the floortoceiling windows. He sat at a corner table across from a young girl.

Julian treated me well, but it was a calculated, deferential kind of well. My friends used to joke that we looked more like a CEO and her assistant than a married couple.

I always brushed it off. I thought I had simply invested in the perfect, lowmaintenance partner. Turns out, he was keeping a woman on the side.

Give a man enough money and power, and he will always show his true colors. I dug up her name later. Seraphina. A grad student in the art department.

Dead parents, living on scholarships. During her junior year, Julian started sponsoring her.

He rented her a luxury apartment, paid her tuition, bought her designer clothes, and wired her ten grand a month like clockwork. He even opened a gallery for her.

He hung her paintings up on the walls. It did not matter if they sold. She just needed a title and a monthly paycheck. Three years.

I spent three years building him from the ground up, and he spent three years building a nest for another woman. I never noticed a thing. I actually trusted him.

After finding out, I went to the office like nothing happened. He waited for me by the conference room door. He handed me an Americano.

It was exactly 160 degrees, just the way I liked it. "Morning, Sutton." Notice the phrasing. He called me by my name at work, never his wife. He always kept that line drawn.

I used to think he just understood professional boundaries. Now I knew he drew that line to protect his own conscience. I took the cup.

As I brushed past him, a foreign, sweet perfume hit my senses. Details I used to ignore suddenly screamed at me. I stopped and looked over my shoulder. "Rough business trip.

What time did you get in last night?" Julian kept a flawless mask, but a microexpression of panic cracked his face. "Two in the morning.

I didn't want to wake you, so I slept in the guest room." My investigator had already sent me the timeline. Seraphina got her period.

Julian ran around in his GWagon, making three separate trips to buy Midol and heating pads. The PI texted me the photos in realtime.

When he arrived, when he left the pharmacy, when he dragged himself back to his car. He was an idiot. DoorDash existed for a reason.

Who was he putting on this grand performance for? Ah, right. The mistress. Too bad she didn't even let him spend the night.

He had to crawl back home at one in the morning. "Oh." I pulled my lips into a smile. "No wonder I didn't see you this morning." He exhaled a quiet breath and followed me into the conference room.

He sat on my left. He handed me files, took my notes, and leaned in to whisper details I missed. Everything was exactly the same. Deferential, meticulous, attentive.

Just like he had been every single day for the past three years. Chapter 3 The meeting wrapped. Julian gathered the files and asked what I wanted for lunch. "Whatever.

You pick," I said. He nodded and turned toward the door. "Julian." He stopped and looked back.

I leaned back in my chair, keeping my eyes fixed on him. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" Not a single muscle in his face twitched out of place.

He just frowned slightly, giving off the perfect amount of confusion. "No? Why? Did something happen?" Such a good actor.

Good enough to blind me for three whole years. "Nothing." I stood up and closed the distance between us. I reached out and smoothed his tie. "I just realized something.

We've been married for a while now, and I always thought I had you figured out." He stayed quiet.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "But lately, I've noticed…" I patted his shoulder. "People always have a side they keep hidden.

You need your own space, too." When I got home that night, Julian already had dinner waiting. A full spread of my favorites.

He stood in the kitchen doorway wearing my pink apron, looking like the pictureperfect, devoted husband. "You're home early today. You should let Muriel handle the cooking.

Don't lower your standards," I said, slipping off my heels. "I wanted to eat with you." He carried the plates to the dining table. "I missed you on the trip." Missed me.

More like he missed my bank account. I took my seat.

He served me, his movements practiced and smooth, like he had rehearsed this a thousand times. "How is it?" he asked. "Good." A gentle smile spread across his face.

He looked genuinely happy.

I set my fork down and locked eyes with him. "Julian, have you ever thought about what you would do if we got a divorce?" His hand froze before he resumed serving the food. "Why bring that up out of nowhere?" "Just curious." He went silent for a moment.

When he spoke, his voice was low. "I'm never getting a divorce." "Why not?" "Because you treat me well." He looked up, meeting my gaze. "You gave me everything.

Without you, I wouldn't be where I am today." "Even if you hit me, curse at me, or throw me out, I will never sign those papers." What a beautiful speech.

It was so flawless I almost believed it. "What if I told you," I said, slowly wiping my mouth with a napkin, "that I want you to walk away with absolutely nothing?" He finally dropped his fork.

A series of microexpressions flashed across his face before settling into a cautious, probing look. "Sutton… did you hear something?" "Hear what?" I threw the question right back at him. "I'm just thinking out loud." He exhaled a long breath, his shoulders dropping visibly. "You scared me to death, Sutton." "Why ask that?

Are you hiding something from me?" I pressed. The breath he just let out hitched in his throat. He stared down at the table.

The silence stretched on for so long that I actually thought he was about to come clean. Then he lifted his head.

His eyes were bloodshot. "Sutton, I truly love you." I stared at those redrimmed eyes and almost laughed out loud.

This man had been putting on a masterclass performance for years, and even backed into a corner, his first instinct was to keep acting.

If he had just laid his cards on the table—admitted he loved her and was only using me for my money—I might have respected him for finally growing a spine.

I really gave him too much credit. Chapter 4 "I know." I stood up and grabbed my bag. "I'm going to the study to finish some work. Go to bed early." "Sutton," he called out to me.

I didn't look back. "No matter what happens, I am never leaving you." I sat in the study for a long time.

Opening my laptop, I pulled up the files from the private investigator and scrolled through them page by page. The girl in the photos still had that same icy demeanor.

Whenever she stood next to Julian, she never cracked a smile. A sudden wave of curiosity hit me. What kind of person was this woman, really?

The next morning, Julian was up at the crack of dawn. Or rather, he hadn't slept at all. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes.

My words from last night had clearly rattled him, leaving him up all night trying to figure out if I knew his secret.

He set a glass of milk next to my hand. "Sutton, can we talk?" "About what?" He stood in front of me, looking like he was making some massive sacrifice. "I know I haven't been good enough, but I truly… I truly cherish this marriage.

If there's anything you're unhappy with, tell me.

I'll change." He sounded so earnest, guarding this relationship with such fragile care, acting as if I were some volatile tyrant ready to kick him to the curb at any second.

When speechlessness hits, you really just want to laugh. And I did.

A genuine chuckle slipped past my lips, but to Julian, that sound meant something else entirely. "Sutton…" I set my files down and looked at him.

He really was a handsome man—cleancut features, a gentle aura.

Out of all the people who had cycled through my life over the years, he was the only one I ever considered spending the rest of my life with. What a shame.

Ignoring his desperate gaze, I threw a question back at him. "Julian, have you ever loved anyone else?" The color drained from his face.

Panic and guilt flashed through his eyes, followed by an emotion I couldn't quite decipher.

He hesitated for a heartbeat before answering. "No." "Really?" "Really." I let out a light laugh. "Good.

By the way, I booked an appointment with a lawyer to handle some asset management.

You'll come with me." His expression froze. "What assets?" "Nothing major," I said, brushing it off. "Just restructuring our finances.

You've given so much to the company over the years. Whatever belongs to you won't be a penny less." He didn't say a word.

I held his gaze, picking up the manila folder from the desk and tapping it firmly against his chest. "But whatever doesn't belong to you… don't even think about taking a single cent." That sentence tore straight through the thin paper wall between us, shattering the very last of his delusions.

I turned on my heel and walked out, leaving Julian standing perfectly still, clutching the folder to his chest.

Once I was in the car, I pulled up the living room security camera on my phone. I watched the screen as Julian finally snapped out of his daze.

He looked down at the folder I had just used to tap his chest. A sudden realization seemed to hit him. He frantically tore it open and yanked out the contents.

A visible tremor racked his hands. The stack slipped from his grip, scattering photos and bank statements all over the hardwood floor.

Highdefinition evidence of every single rendezvous he had with Seraphina stared back up at him.

Julian stared at the mess, his face pale, before his knees gave out and he collapsed onto the floor. A cold smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I watched the feed.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Actually, I should be thanking him for being so sloppy.

If he had managed to hide this for a few more years, gutting him in the divorce settlement wouldn't have been nearly this easy.

Chapter 5 That very night, I had Julian thrown out of my house.

Before I even returned, I ordered Muriel and Desmond to pack up every single thing he owned and dump the boxes directly at the company headquarters.

Julian still harbored delusions of winning me back. But with the entire office watching, he couldn't swallow his pride enough to actually beg.

He opted for a grand performance instead, playing the part of a loving husband dealing with a minor marital spat. Right. I almost forgot.

Social climbers like him grew a thick second skin called pride the moment they married into money.

He wanted to keep his wealth, clinging to the memory of how I had fought everyone to marry him. He was betting my reaction was just a temporary tantrum.

But the second he saw his packed luggage sitting there, that fragile layer of pride shattered.

His carefully curated image of the perfect husband crumbled right on the floor along with it. I never liked airing my dirty laundry in public.

A cheating husband was a stain on my reputation. Julian stood right outside my office door, spewing desperate apologies and hollow promises. I don't even remember what he said.

I didn't have to give the order. Casey signaled the security guards to drag him away before he could take another breath.

His grand, tearful redemption arc was killed in the cradle before the employees could even grab their popcorn.

The asset division and divorce proceedings moved faster than I expected. Once the paperwork cleared, the ink was dry. However, one person actually caught me off guard. Seraphina.

I assumed a girl like her would have blown through every dime Julian gave her. Instead, she marched straight into my lawyer's office and handed over a debit card.

It held every single transfer Julian had ever sent her over the years, minus her basic living expenses and tuition. She even liquidated the art gallery.

It totaled almost three hundred thousand dollars. But the market wasn't what it used to be, so the gallery sold for a fraction of its original value.

Even after factoring in the pawned jewelry, designer bags, and other gifts, she still came up short. She still owed me two hundred thousand dollars.

I traced the edge of the plastic card my lawyer handed me. The girl severed ties remarkably clean.

Despite spending years navigating the cutthroat corporate world, I actually couldn't read her angle. Was she terrified? Or was it something else?

I looked up. "Did you tell her?" The lawyer paused, clearly remembering my previous claim about the mistress being a marital asset. "She asked if you could give her some time." "Oh?" A genuine laugh escaped me.

That was certainly an unexpected response. Fine. I would give her some time and see exactly what this little girl was planning to do. Three days later.

The doorbell rang while I was leaning against the sofa, reviewing some financial reports. I pulled the front door open and froze. A girl stood on my porch.

She had long dark hair cascading over her shoulders and that signature aloof expression.

Her hands gripped two massive suitcases, and a stuffed canvas backpack hung heavy on her shoulders. It was the exact girl from the investigator's photos. Seraphina.

Chapter 6 "Sutton," she panted, her chest heaving as she forced a polite smile. "Hi, I'm Seraphina." I leaned against the doorframe, blocking the entrance. "Can I help you?" She dropped the suitcases and fished a bank card out of her pocket, offering it to me with both hands. "I forgot about this one.

There's about ten thousand in there. I figured I'd bring it directly to you instead of the lawyer." That move caught me off guard. I didn't take the card.

I just stood there. "And?" Her gaze met mine headon. "I know this isn't enough to cover what Julian spent.

But my accounts are completely dry." Not a single trace of pleading crossed her face. She just stared right back at me.

I shifted my weight against the frame, a sudden spark of curiosity overriding my annoyance. "So what's your plan?" A heavy silence fell between us before she took a deep breath, bracing herself. "I don't have the cash." "I can only pay you back with my body." My brain shortcircuited