I Found His Mistress... Wearing My Ring - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading I Found His Mistress... Wearing My Ring, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of I Found His Mistress... Wearing My Ring.
Ray's scowl darkened as he glared at me, but it was fleeting. In an instant, he released me, marching straight to Christine. With practiced ease, he drew her against his chest and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She melted into him, her tear-stained face transforming into a triumphant smirk as she buried herself in his embrace.
"Christine, take it easy," Ray soothed, fingers combing through her hair. "I know you're stressed, but you need to stay calm—for the baby's sake."
She gave an exaggerated sniff, tilting her face up with practiced vulnerability. "Then promise me," she quavered, "swear that no matter who your legal wife is, no matter how many sons she bears you, the Palmer fortune will belong only to me and our child."
Ray's jaw clenched. His eyes darted to me for half a heartbeat, testing my reaction. I stood statue-still, denying him any satisfaction. Finally, he gave a stiff nod, his grip tightening on Christine's shoulder.
Victorious, Christine nuzzled against him with a cat-that-got-the-cream smile. I turned on my heel, blood roaring in my ears, and stormed toward my room to finish packing. Then—a flash of green at Christine's wrist stopped me dead.
My breath hitched. No. It couldn't be...
I whirled around. "Where did you get that bracelet?" My voice came out razor-sharp.
Christine's smirk faltered as she instinctively tucked her wrist behind Ray. "This old thing?" she cooed, all sugar and innocence. "Ray thought it looked pretty on me. Why?"
Ice flooded my veins. I sprinted to my room, wrenching open the vanity drawer where Grandma's heirloom bracelet should've been. Empty.
Blind with rage, I charged downstairs. "Give it back!" My shout cracked through the room.
Christine paled but recovered fast. "It's just costume jewelry," she laughed airily. "Why the drama?"
Ray stepped between us, face thunderous. "I gave it to her for tonight's event," he snapped. "Stop being childish."
"Childish?" My hands shook violently. "That was my grandmother's! You stole it!"
Christine tried retreating, but I grabbed her wrist. She shrieked like I'd stabbed her, collapsing into Ray's arms with Oscar-worthy sobs.
Ray's face twisted. "Have you gone insane?" His palm connected with my cheek—a stinging crack that reverberated through the room.
Before I could react, he wrenched the bracelet off Christine's wrist and hurled it to the floor. The jade exploded into fragments.
I dropped to my knees, gathering the shattered pieces with trembling fingers. The air reeked of Christine's fake tears and Ray's murmured comforts. When I looked up, Christine was smirking over his shoulder, eyes glittering with victory.
"I thought you were better than this," Ray spat. "Attacking Christine when she's carrying my child? You make me sick."
My voice came out hollow. "So what now?"
"Keep this up," he warned coldly, "and there won't be a wedding. My wife needs class—not petty jealousy."
On cue, Christine clutched her stomach with a theatrical moan. "Ray...it hurts..."
He scooped her up instantly. "We're going to the hospital," he barked over his shoulder. "Think hard about what I said."
The door slammed. Silence. My reflection in the window showed a ghost of a woman—emptied by betrayal.
For days, I played the perfect puppet. No tears. No arguments. I nodded through dress fittings I'd never wear, smiled through floral consultations for a wedding that wouldn't happen.
On the big day, Ray waited at the altar amid a sea of orchids and expectant guests. The processional music swelled. All heads turned.
But my seat was empty.
While they searched for their missing bride, I was boarding a plane. My phone lit up like a Christmas tree—Ray's messages oscillating between fury and pleading desperation.
"Christine, take it easy," Ray soothed, fingers combing through her hair. "I know you're stressed, but you need to stay calm—for the baby's sake."
She gave an exaggerated sniff, tilting her face up with practiced vulnerability. "Then promise me," she quavered, "swear that no matter who your legal wife is, no matter how many sons she bears you, the Palmer fortune will belong only to me and our child."
Ray's jaw clenched. His eyes darted to me for half a heartbeat, testing my reaction. I stood statue-still, denying him any satisfaction. Finally, he gave a stiff nod, his grip tightening on Christine's shoulder.
Victorious, Christine nuzzled against him with a cat-that-got-the-cream smile. I turned on my heel, blood roaring in my ears, and stormed toward my room to finish packing. Then—a flash of green at Christine's wrist stopped me dead.
My breath hitched. No. It couldn't be...
I whirled around. "Where did you get that bracelet?" My voice came out razor-sharp.
Christine's smirk faltered as she instinctively tucked her wrist behind Ray. "This old thing?" she cooed, all sugar and innocence. "Ray thought it looked pretty on me. Why?"
Ice flooded my veins. I sprinted to my room, wrenching open the vanity drawer where Grandma's heirloom bracelet should've been. Empty.
Blind with rage, I charged downstairs. "Give it back!" My shout cracked through the room.
Christine paled but recovered fast. "It's just costume jewelry," she laughed airily. "Why the drama?"
Ray stepped between us, face thunderous. "I gave it to her for tonight's event," he snapped. "Stop being childish."
"Childish?" My hands shook violently. "That was my grandmother's! You stole it!"
Christine tried retreating, but I grabbed her wrist. She shrieked like I'd stabbed her, collapsing into Ray's arms with Oscar-worthy sobs.
Ray's face twisted. "Have you gone insane?" His palm connected with my cheek—a stinging crack that reverberated through the room.
Before I could react, he wrenched the bracelet off Christine's wrist and hurled it to the floor. The jade exploded into fragments.
I dropped to my knees, gathering the shattered pieces with trembling fingers. The air reeked of Christine's fake tears and Ray's murmured comforts. When I looked up, Christine was smirking over his shoulder, eyes glittering with victory.
"I thought you were better than this," Ray spat. "Attacking Christine when she's carrying my child? You make me sick."
My voice came out hollow. "So what now?"
"Keep this up," he warned coldly, "and there won't be a wedding. My wife needs class—not petty jealousy."
On cue, Christine clutched her stomach with a theatrical moan. "Ray...it hurts..."
He scooped her up instantly. "We're going to the hospital," he barked over his shoulder. "Think hard about what I said."
The door slammed. Silence. My reflection in the window showed a ghost of a woman—emptied by betrayal.
For days, I played the perfect puppet. No tears. No arguments. I nodded through dress fittings I'd never wear, smiled through floral consultations for a wedding that wouldn't happen.
On the big day, Ray waited at the altar amid a sea of orchids and expectant guests. The processional music swelled. All heads turned.
But my seat was empty.
While they searched for their missing bride, I was boarding a plane. My phone lit up like a Christmas tree—Ray's messages oscillating between fury and pleading desperation.
End of I Found His Mistress... Wearing My Ring Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to I Found His Mistress... Wearing My Ring book page.