I'm a traditional wife.

Raised that way from the start. A good woman listens to her husband, gives him children, keeps the family whole.

So when my husband brought home his first love—his mistress—and informed me they had an illegitimate son together, I made a decision.

I drove out that very night to bring the boy home myself.

“Come home with me.”

“My husband's rich. I'll spend his money raising you.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I want you to like me.”

Being a stepmother is never easy.

“Then can I kiss you?”

“I'm a traditional woman—I can't say yes to that. But a mother can say yes to her son.”

He stared at me. ：“You play it this wild?”

Later, I took his hand, walked up to my husband and his first love, and said：“All that matters is the four of us living well together.”

……

“We've been married eighteen years, but Patsy Fox is the one I've always loved.”

“The one who isn't loved is the real other woman.”

I looked at the man standing in front of me, Edgar Delgado, and the woman in his arms with that taunting look in her eyes.

I pressed a hand to my chest and let the tears slip down in silence.

Patsy let out a thin scoff：“Who's that little performance for? A woman your age crying is just ugly. You really think a man's going to feel sorry for you?”

I turned and glanced at the mirror beside me.

The woman in the glass was slender, her bare face flawless, her eyes rimmed red, two teardrops still clinging to her long lashes. She looked beautiful.

Patsy really had no taste.

Seeing me drift, Patsy only got angrier. She stepped forward and gripped my shoulders, her voice turning shrill.

“Edgar and I were together more than ten years ago—your wedding night, he was in bed with me. One time was all it took and I was pregnant, not like you, all these years and still a hen that can't lay a single egg.”

I looked at Edgar, disbelief plain on my face.

He gave a quiet nod：“Yes. That's right. We have a child.”

“But don't worry. As long as you don't make a scene, the title of Mrs. Delgado is still yours.”

I bit down hard on my lip.

Then let out a quiet breath：“Understood.”

My husband had been cheating on me. He had an illegitimate son with another woman.

But what was I supposed to do?

I'm a traditional wife.

Everything I'd been taught since childhood was how to be a good one.

Listen to your husband. Whatever he says is right.

Give him children. Keep the family together, complete and whole.

I ran my hand over my flat stomach, the faint lines of muscle still visible beneath my palm.

All these years of marriage, and I was already forty. I still hadn't given Edgar a single child.

I really wasn't a qualified wife.

“I'll make it up to you.”

Ours was an arranged marriage between powerful families.

To secure his position in the Delgado family, Edgar married me fresh out of college, all so he could tie himself to the Mason name.

As a husband, he'd been nearly impossible to fault over the years.

Paycheck turned over on time every month.

An unlimited black card for me to swipe however I pleased.

Carefully chosen gifts for every anniversary, every holiday, every birthday.

Except for today, when he walked in with another woman and a child.

Until now, everyone who knew us called him the model husband.

I gave a flat “mm” and went back to my room.

I locked myself in there for the rest of the day.

When Edith came up with my dinner tray, I asked：“Edith, have I really been that bad a wife?”

Her face softened with something she couldn't quite hide：“Ma'am, you mustn't wear yourself out grieving over him.”

I shook my head slowly.

What hurt was knowing I'd failed in my duty as a wife.

“Just now downstairs, I heard that man and that woman talking. Their illegitimate son refuses to acknowledge the family. He'd rather die than come back to the Delgados.”

“Ma'am, as long as you have a baby soon, no outsider can take the Delgado family fortune.”

The moment I heard Edith's words, I shot to my feet.

“The boy won't come back?”

“That's right. At least he has some self-awareness. He knows his origins aren't exactly respectable.”

No. No, that wouldn't do.

I was a traditional wife. Stand by your husband, raise his children—that was the job, and the job was mine.

I hadn't given him a single child of my own. I certainly couldn't let his child stay out there on his own.

A family should be whole.

I had to bring him back.

Natalie made some inquiries downstairs and found out the boy was in college.

I sent for my makeup artist straightaway, sat for a full face, then chose something gentle—an outfit that said approachable, not intimidating.

I was a traditional wife. A wife's looks were her husband's face to the world.

So for all these years,

I had taken meticulous care of myself.

All so that at every banquet, someone would say,

“She's stunning. Edgar Delgado is one lucky man.”

A university campus, tens of thousands of people milling around.

Of course I needed to look even more polished than usual.

The Delgado family's image mattered.

I stood outside the university gates comparing faces to the photo on my phone for ages, but I couldn't spot the boy.

The investigator I'd hired said he went to the café across the street to work a shift at this time every day.

So why hadn't I seen him?

Had I come to the wrong school?

I stepped back a couple of paces and looked up at the sign.

Kingsbridge University.

No, this was right.

After a moment's thought, I headed straight for the building where his class was held.

According to the file, his last class was Engineering Mechanics, in Building Fifteen.

I walked in my heels, poised and elegant, for what felt like forever.

Then I walked for another eternity, faking the poise.

The campus was enormous, and I was exhausted.

But I was a traditional wife. I couldn't complain about being tired, and I absolutely could not look anything less than put-together.

By the time I reached the building, spine stiff and one hand braced against my lower back,

I saw the boy from the photo cornered at the bottom of the stairwell by a group of thugs.

They were bullying my son?

Wait. No.

Bullying my husband's son.

Absolutely not.

I ignored the pain screaming through my feet and swept up those stairs like a woman who had never suffered a day in her life.

I put myself in front of the boy, shielding him behind me.

“I'm telling you right now, campus security and the faculty are on their way.”

“If you know what's good for you, I suggest you leave.”

The thugs exchanged a look.

Probably not wanting the trouble, they spat a few curses and left.

I spun around to face him. ：“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He looked at me strangely.

He stammered, ：“You're the woman they mentioned.”

What woman?

Oh.

His father's wife.

“That's right.”

I reached out, took his arm, and didn't let go. ：“Good. You're coming home with me.”

He froze, and both ears flushed cherry-red in an instant.

“That fast? That's……isn't that a bit much?”

“What's wrong with it?”

“We just met. I mean, you're beautiful, but……going home together already? Besides, I still have my part-time shift.”

“Come home with me. I'll provide for you.”

For some reason, the shy expression he'd been wearing a second ago vanished, replaced by something dead serious.

His brow furrowed, and his voice dropped a few degrees.

“You want to keep me?”

The moment he came back to the Delgado family, he'd be Edgar's son. And Edgar's son was my son.

He and his mother, Patsy Fox—I was keeping them both.

“Mm-hm.” I nodded seriously.

“You got money? You think you can support a grown man? And you just want to take me home.”

“My husband's rich. I can spend his money to take care of you.”

“You want me to be your side piece?!”

I tilted my head and looked at him, thinking this kid had gotten knocked around so hard he couldn't even keep his words straight. His mother was the side piece. He wasn't.

Besides, I didn't mind Patsy's existence.

So I nodded again, just as seriously.

“Mm-hm. My husband is really, really rich. More money than he could ever spend. Come home with me.”

He stared at me for a long time, then spat out a single word：“Fuck.”

And let me pull him along as I walked out.

This kid was Fred Delgado, a top student at Kingsbridge University.

Good-looking, too. He'd inherited the best of both his parents.

His face still had marks from the thugs who'd roughed him up.

I was worried Edgar might see the bruises and assume I'd been the one mistreating his precious son.

So I took Fred to one of the villas under my name first and let him heal up there.

According to him:

His lousy excuse of a father—also known as my dear husband—had cut off every cent of his living expenses to force him to come home.

And every part-time job Fred managed to land, Edgar sabotaged.

Very much in keeping with my husband's usual style.

I looked at the cuts on that handsome face, and it hurt a little just seeing them. I reached over and stroked his hair.

“Poor thing. Once we go home, everything will be better.”

“Let me treat your cuts first.”

He was well-behaved, sitting on the sofa with his hands gripping his knees, a little stiff.

The iodine stung his wound and I leaned in without thinking to blow on it—but the more I blew, the redder his face got.

“Are you running a fever?”

I pressed my forehead against his to check his temperature.

“You're getting hotter and hotter. I'm taking you to the hospital.”

He shoved me away in a panic and bolted into the bathroom：“I'm fine.”

I knocked on the door：“You really don't need to go to the hospital?”

“No.”

“All right then.”

Kids these days. So stubborn. He was practically panting and still insisting he was fine.

I dissolved a fever reducer in water and watched him drink every drop before I felt at ease.

When I was about to leave, he seemed almost surprised：“You're just... leaving?”

“Mm. I'll come see you again tomorrow.”

At the door, I glanced back. He was standing alone in front of the sofa. Such a pitiful kid.

While he was recovering, I went to pick him up from class every day, afraid he'd get bullied again.

Also a good chance to build up some mother-son bonding.

Today was a day off. I took him to the mall and dragged him around the whole place—anything he so much as glanced at twice, I had it wrapped up.

Then I spent the whole day with him at an amusement park.

And while I was at it, I stood up for him. Every thug who'd laid a hand on him before ended up in a holding cell.

That evening on the way back, he asked me：“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because I want you to like me.”

Something flickered across Fred's face, surprise, and then the flush hit hard.

“That's your only wish?”

“Mm.”

A whole family, together, getting along, loving each other. That's the biggest wish a traditional wife could have.

He moved toward me, then pulled back.

After a few seconds of wrestling with himself, he suddenly brought his face close to mine.

So close I could feel the roughness of his breathing：“Then your wish just came true. I like you.”

I quietly stepped back：“'Sister'? I'm a traditional woman. Given the relationship between us, you should be calling me Mom.”

His eyes lit up, excitement practically spilling out of them.

“Wow, you really play it that wild.”

“Then can I kiss you?”