He Chose His Mistress Over Our Child
8.6 / 10.0
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A single, shattering moment—a brutal car crash—exposes the cruel truth Davina can no longer ignore: when she and her unborn child needed Wayne most, he was at Madilyn's side, the woman he always protected. Years of humiliation and violence finally end in divorce, and Davina flees overseas to reclaim her career and her identity. But when Wayne finally sees Madilyn's manipulations clearly, consuming regret drives him to follow Davina, desperate to undo the damage—while she battles to protect the fragile peace she's earned.
He Chose His Mistress Over Our Child Summary
A single, shattering moment—a brutal car crash—exposes the cruel truth Davina can no longer ignore: when she and her unborn child needed Wayne most, he was at Madilyn's side, the woman he always protected. Years of humiliation and violence finally end in divorce, and Davina flees overseas to reclaim her career and her identity. But when Wayne finally sees Madilyn's manipulations clearly, consuming regret drives him to follow Davina, desperate to undo the damage—while she battles to protect the fragile peace she's earned.
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He Chose His Mistress Over Our Child Chapter 1
Wayne called to tell me his plans just after I was rear-ended.
“She's getting married today, and I need to be there.”
Pain ripped through my abdomen as I spoke, my voice shaky. “Please, come to the hospital with me... I just got rear-ended, and the car—”
Before I could finish, Wayne cut me off, impatience sharp in his voice. “I promised to put our family first, and I intend to keep that promise. It's one last look, and besides, she's getting married. What are you so worried about? Don't try to guilt-trip me into staying.”
The line went dead.
By the time I got to the hospital, blood had soaked the seat beneath me.
Because I was barely conscious, the hospital tried to reach my emergency contact before the procedure. Wayne ignored all seventeen calls. Meanwhile, the man who never posted anything on social media chose that moment to post: “Not being with you is the greatest regret of my life, but all I wish for is your happiness.”
In the photo, Madilyn leaned against him in a Victorian-style dress, her smile so radiant they looked like the newlyweds.
After the surgery, I took a moment to pull myself together. Four years after Wayne first asked for a divorce, I signed the papers and filed them with the court.
During the week I was in the hospital, Wayne never showed. Yet he kept me updated on his schedule every day. Day one: attending Madilyn's wedding. Day two: helping her relatives settle in.
I was drained. I didn't answer a single message. Wayne must have thought I was upset, because—out of nowhere—he called.
“Don't be mad. This is the last time I'll see her,” he said, his voice catching halfway through, a hint of longing bleeding through. “She's married now. I just wanted to see if... her husband treats her well.”
“I'll be back tomorrow. Emanuel told me you're in the hospital. I'll come pick you up and take you home.”
Before I could answer, Wayne hung up on me again.
The next day, evening came and went. He still hadn't shown. Despite the pain, I checked myself out of the hospital.
When I got home, Wayne was in the kitchen in an apron. He looked up, startled to see me, and immediately launched into an explanation.
“I was just about to go pick you up. Why didn't you wait? I haven't been home long myself.”
I glanced at the pork stew he was packing into an insulated container, and my heart went colder with every second. I couldn't stand the smell of it—I never ate pork stew. Only Madilyn liked that kind of stew. It must have been simmering for at least three hours, which meant he'd been home since noon.
I watched him for a beat, forcing down the bitterness rising in my throat. “It's fine.”
When I didn't push, his shoulders relaxed. He hurried out, his steps unusually brisk. “I have a client who's sick. I thought I'd drop off some stew and talk over a contract.”
The door closed behind him. Three minutes later, I followed.
Wayne didn't drive far—just to a hotel down the road.
The sight waiting for me at the hotel entrance cut straight through me.
Madilyn.
The woman Wayne had an affair with four years ago.
The woman he'd lost every shred of dignity over—the one he'd dropped to his knees and begged me to divorce him for.
Madilyn stood beside a man I didn't recognize—presumably her new husband. Wayne handed her the insulated container, keeping a careful distance, but his eyes gave him away. His reluctance to let her go was written all over his face.
Madilyn smiled her thanks, and then she and her husband walked into the hotel.
That night, Wayne came home drunk. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he kept murmuring, “Madilyn... Madilyn...”
Even now that Madilyn was married, he couldn't let her go.
It was absurd to me.
The man who once wouldn't touch a drop of alcohol for my sake was now drunk every few weeks.
A chill settled deep in me. I was sure my heart—already battered and torn—couldn't hurt anymore. But I was wrong. The pain still found a way to cut deeper.
I quietly packed my bags, taking a deep breath to dull the ache. In two weeks, I'd finally have the divorce decree.
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He Chose His Mistress Over Our Child of Contents
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