My Husband Let His Mistress Kill His Mother

I intended to give my husband a surprise. Instead, I walked straight into a nightmare.

It was New Year's Eve. I had secretly brought my parents-in-law to Anthony's newly opened high-end restaurant, hoping to celebrate their return from abroad with a family dinner.

The service was suspiciously fast. In less than ten minutes, the table was full. But as the steam cleared, the reality was stark—these weren't fresh, chef-prepared meals. They were pre-made, industrial packets. Some of the meat still glistened with ice crystals, not even fully thawed.

My father-in-law's face darkened. He slammed his hand on the table and demanded the manager.

When she clicked her way over in high heels, my stomach dropped. It wasn't just any employee. It was Jasmine Maxwell, my husband's secretary.

"What kind of poverty-stricken trash thinks they're worthy of putting on airs here?" Jasmine crossed her arms, looking down her nose at us. "Serving you pre-made dishes is already more dignity than two old geezers like you deserve."

My in-laws sat frozen, their faces draining of color.

I stood up, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Jasmine Maxwell, watch your mouth. Do you have any idea who these people are?"

She scoffed. "Please. Aren't they just your deadbeat parents?"

She looked me up and down with a sneer. "It's bad enough you rely on being 'Tony darling's' wife to survive, but now you're dragging these two old leeches here to mooch off him on New Year's? Not a chance."

Before I could retort, she slapped a receipt against my chest.

"Tony darling opened this restaurant for me," she hissed. "You broke dogs better not think about getting a free ride today."

I snatched the bill from the air. A bitter laugh escaped me.

Eighty-eight thousand dollars.

For a table of frozen slop.

I didn't waste another second with her. I pulled out my phone and dialed Anthony Sanchez.

"The lapdog you keep is currently extorting your parents at the restaurant," I said the moment the line connected. "How do you intend to handle this?"

——

A pause. Then Anthony's voice came through, dripping with ice.

"Jasmine already briefed me. You have some nerve, Violet Henson. You brought your parents to Bay City without telling me, and now you're trying to scam a free meal?"

His tone turned sharp. "Pay the bill in full. Take them and get out. If I have to come down there, I will personally send you to jail."

My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles went white. He thinks they're my parents?

"Anthony, listen to me—"

Click.

My in-laws, close enough to hear the shouting, were trembling with fury.

"What a bastard!" my father-in-law roared.

"What did he say?" my mother-in-law asked, her voice shaking. "He wants to send us to jail?"

Knowing their fiery tempers, I tried to intervene. "Dad, Mom, please calm down. Let's go to the company headquarters and talk to him face-to-face."

"Absolutely not!" My father-in-law pulled out his own phone. "I want him down here right now. I'm going to make him fire this vixen!"

He barely dialed a digit before Jasmine snatched the phone from his hand.

"Who are you calling a vixen, you old fossil?"

With a casual flick, she dropped it into a tureen of soup. It sank with a heavy plop. She leaned over the table, pointing a manicured finger right in his face.

"You really think you're someone special? If Tony darling wasn't so soft-hearted, trash like you wouldn't even be allowed in the city, let alone this restaurant. Don't try to play the 'respect your elders' card with me."

She straightened up, glaring at me. "Violet Henson, if you know what's good for you, pay up and drag them out of here. Otherwise, things are going to get ugly."

I glanced at the elderly couple. Their chests were heaving, faces flushed a dangerous shade of red. I couldn't risk their health. I had to get them out immediately.

I pulled out my bank card and swiped it.

Transaction Declined.

I tried another. Declined.

A chill ran down my spine. Anthony hadn't just sided with his mistress—he had frozen my assets. He was letting this woman humiliate us and had cut off my lifeline to ensure I couldn't fight back.

I dialed him again. Straight to voicemail.

"I already told Tony to freeze your accounts," Jasmine laughed, the sound shrill and triumphant. She snapped her fingers, and several burly security guards emerged from the shadows.

They rolled up their sleeves, forming a wall of muscle around her.

"Manager Maxwell isn't someone you want to provoke," one guard growled, cracking his knuckles.

"That's right," another added, smirking. "Some drunk idiot cursed at her a few days ago. The boss broke the guy's leg and bankrupted his entire family."

"If you don't want to die, apologize. Now."

Jasmine preened, basking in the protection.

At that moment, the truth finally dawned on my in-laws. The woman standing before them wasn't just a rude manager—she had a very specific, very intimate relationship with their son.

My father-in-law stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Apologize? To her?"

He glared at Jasmine with the authority of a patriarch. "You uneducated little—"

He never finished.

Jasmine's face twisted into a mask of rage. She grabbed a frozen ribbonfish from the nearest table—hard as a steel baton—and swung it with all her strength.

The frozen fish slammed into his mouth with a sickening crunch.

"Fuck you, old man!" she screamed. "You still dare to curse me?"