My Husband Proposed to His Mistress Using My Stolen Son

The day before my husband’s tech company went public, both my mother-in-law, Gemma Eldridge, and my son, Matty, suddenly had a relapse.

Concerned, my husband Chris took them back to the city overnight.

Still uneasy, I took a taxi over to check on them.

Instead, I heard his childhood sweetheart, Melissa Shaw, remark, "I'm glad I switched the babies back then. Or else, I wouldn't have survived raising a child with cerebral palsy."

Gemma, standing off to the side, looked visibly uneasy.

She murmured under her breath, “Is this really alright? After all, Nadine has taken care of us for ten years.”

Chris sighed. “I will give her some money when the time comes. That way, my conscience will be clear.”

During the listing ceremony the next day, Chris proposed to Melissa with heartfelt emotion, kneeling on stage as he did so.

The entire city erupted in celebration of their great love story.

Even my biological son, Tucker, held a bouquet, beaming with excitement as he acted as their flower boy.

And I stood hidden in a corner, clutching my thin, worn jacket tighter around myself.

“So the one whose mind wasn’t right was me.”

——

Later that night, I took a six-hour bus ride and then switched to a motorcycle taxi to return to the village. When I walked into the house, the old phone I had left on the dining table flashed with twenty missed calls.

As soon as I called back, my university advisor’s thrilled voice burst through the speaker.

“Nadine. I have found a treatment for cerebral palsy.”

Instantly, the ache in my chest melted into a warm rush. I never expected this.

After ten whole years, Dr. Daniel Pearson still cared deeply about Matty’s condition.

Clutching the phone, my voice came out hoarse with emotion. “Professor, when can we start the treatment?”

“I have already contacted the specialists abroad,” he said without pause. “Three days from now, I will come to the village and take you overseas.”

As soon as I heard that, guilt tightened around my throat. I couldn't help but think about how, because of Chris, I had decisively quit my mentor’s research project all those years ago.

“Thank you, Professor.” My voice cracked.

Just as I hung up, the wooden door behind me creaked open.

Whenever we came back from medical visits in the city, no matter how late, Mom would always bring Matty home that same night, so I would turn instinctively.

“Mom, what did the doctor say about Matty—”

But I froze.

The person who had come back was not Mom.

It was Chris who should have been enjoying his wedding night in the city.

Even from several feet away, I could smell the lingering wine from the ceremony clinging to him.

“Nadine,” he said, frowning slightly, “why are you awake at this hour? And why is the light off?”

The dim yellow bulb cast a soft glow on his tired face, but it couldn't hide the happiness in his brows, or the subtle arrogance of someone who now entirely belonged to the city.

In the past, I would have run right into his arms, tears of longing rolling down my face, letting him pinch my nose and tease me for being a little crybaby.

But now, as he moved toward me, I automatically stepped back and acted like nothing was wrong.

I've just finished harvesting the crops and have just got home. I'm dirty."

In the summer, when the daytime heat became overwhelming, villagers often harvested crops at night with flashlights.

Chris had grown up in the countryside too, so he didn’t find this unusual. He slightly frowned and took a small step back.

“Nadine, you have worked hard these past years.”

To support his start-up, I left my job despite being a graduate of a top university. I returned to the village to care for our son with cerebral palsy and his mother, whose leg was crippled.

For ten entire years, no matter how bitter or exhausting life became, I endured it. Before I knew the truth, I pushed through each grueling day by holding onto the dream of the grand wedding and city-life happiness he had promised me.

But now, I felt nothing except exhaustion.

Too tired to question him.

Too tired to argue.

Too tired to care.

The only thing on my mind was to quietly make it through the next three days, as I was planning to take Matty overseas for treatment after that.

Expressionless, I took the sleeping Matty from Chris's arms.

“You must be tired from the trip,” I said. “Go wash up. I will put him to bed.”

I turned toward the bedroom, but he followed me.

“Matty is heavy. Let me carry him.”