My Billionaire Husband Faked Being Poor , So I Let Him Keep His Mistress

### Chapter 1

To save my son from leukemia, my husband worked himself to the bone every single day, burying us under hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt.

After my son died, I threw myself into three jobs at once, pushing through until my stomach bled, all so Dominic Ashford wouldn't have to carry the weight alone.

On his birthday, I decided to surprise him on his business trip. I gritted my teeth, spent half a month's wages, and bought the last available ticket.

The flight attendant wheeled the meal cart over and leaned down with a smile. "Ma'am, for lunch we have Wagyu steak and cod. Which would you prefer?"

I glanced at the beautifully plated food and blurted out, "Isn't this... really expensive? Maybe I'll just skip it."

The words had barely left my mouth when a scoff came from the seat beside me.

"Business class meals are complimentary. Skipping it won't get you a refund."

"Oh... really?" Heat flooded my cheeks. "It's my first time flying."

The woman beside me was dripping in jewelry. The Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet on her wrist alone, the one I'd seen in magazine ads, had to be worth over a million dollars.

Next to her, a little boy was fast asleep, his head bowed. He looked about three years old.

I couldn't help my surprise. "You're so young, and you've been married a while?"

"Married?" The woman toyed with the massive diamond on her finger and let out a dry laugh. "That bastard told me he'd give me everything. Everything except a marriage certificate."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm his mistress. Never seen one before? I'm his secretary. He's got a plain little wife back home." She gave me a sidelong look. "About your age, actually. He says she's about as exciting as a plank of wood. The thought of sleeping with her makes him sick."

"Anyway, are you traveling for work?"

"No," I said, forcing a weak smile. "It's my husband's birthday. I wanted to surprise him."

"What a coincidence. My boss's birthday is today too. He told his wife he was on a business trip, but really he booked tickets to the Disneyland in Harbor City. Insisted I bring our son along."

The child stirred awake just then, rubbing his eyes and whining for something to drink.

The woman pursed her glossy red lips and waved to the flight attendant. "Orange juice for my son, please."

"That one time things got a little too crazy, and he forgot to use protection... and then, well." She shrugged. "He told me to keep the baby. Said the wife's kid had some terminal illness anyway, so my son would be his only heir."

"Do you have kids?"

"I did."

My gaze drifted to the boy, and I went rigid.

Why?

The navy-blue suit I'd sewn by hand for my son before he died. Why was her child wearing it?

...

No. My husband, Dominic Ashford, was just a regular working-class guy. How could he possibly be some billionaire?

I fought to keep my hands from shaking. "That's a cute outfit on him. Did you buy it?"

"No. It belonged to his dead kid."

She barely glanced at it, her tone breezy and indifferent.

"Clothes off a dead child are bad luck. Plus it's ugly. I wouldn't have looked twice at it normally."

"But on the day my son started preschool, the wife's brat was being buried, and what does he do? Runs back to comfort her. Couldn't even be bothered to show up for his own son's first day of school!"

I stared at the little deer embroidered on the right side of the chest, each stitch placed by my own hand, and those hopeless days came flooding back.

In my son's final hours, he begged me to buy him something with a little deer on it.

It was the only thing he'd ever asked for in his four short years of life.

I couldn't even afford his medical bills. I went to sell my blood for the fifth time, bought the finest fabric I could find, and sewed this little suit by hand.

But when the suit was finished, my son was gone before he ever got to wear it.

I cried until I passed out, over and over, my heart shattered beyond repair.

Dominic, who hadn't rested in months, took time off to handle the funeral arrangements, running himself ragged taking care of everything.

When I finally came to, the suit was gone. He held me and wept.

"I was afraid it would break your heart all over again, so I buried it with him."

"It's my fault. I'm useless. I couldn't earn enough money to save our son."

I looked at his bloodshot eyes and the deep shadows carved beneath them, and shook my head through my tears.

"It's not your fault. Dominic, you did everything you could. You were a good father."

For days and nights after that, I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep.

In the small hours of the morning, he'd drag himself home, exhausted to the bone, and still find the strength to hold me, soothing me gently.

"Once we've paid off the debt, we'll try for another baby, okay? I'm going to work even harder. For you."

I shook my head, tears streaming.

"Don't push yourself so hard. We'll pay it off together."

From that day on, I worked three jobs.

To save every penny, I waited until after seven each evening to buy the marked-down produce.

When pork got too expensive, I started buying the scraps and offcuts that nobody else wanted.

Now I watched Eve Sullivan slice into a premium Wagyu steak with perfect elegance.

I said nothing.

While my son was alive, he never once wore a decent piece of clothing. And here she was, waving her knife and fork around, bragging that a single cufflink on her son's sleeve cost hundreds of thousands.

I asked, "So you just let him steal the suit and give it to your son?"

"Well, he didn't want to at first. Said the thing was cheap and it'd be beneath our son to wear it."

She stroked the little boy's head as he sipped his juice.

"But when he heard the wife made it herself, nearly went blind sewing it, I got curious."

"I mean, if she's pathetic enough to stick around, she deserves what she gets, right?"

I clenched my jaw.

"Honestly, it's not like I even needed it. But knowing she poured her heart into something that ended up on my son? That felt good."

"Plus my boy liked it. Said the little deer was cute. So I told him to bring it over."

I pressed down the violent heaving in my chest and kept going.

"Your boss treats you and your son so well. Doesn't his wife ever make a fuss?"

Eve Sullivan's eyes narrowed with satisfaction, and she threw her head back in a laugh that shook her shoulders.

"That plain little wife of his has no idea he's worth billions."