My husband and I had known each other since high school. I grew up in a working-class family, while his family was quite well-off.
Ethan had always been the golden boy, the one every girl in school—and probably half the girls in the city—had a crush on. Always dressed in the latest trends, bold, intelligent, and athletic, Ethan stood out effortlessly against the backdrop of every other guy. The most surprising thing was that, despite the crowd of girls constantly surrounding him, he eventually asked me out, much to everyone's envy. I felt a mix of excitement and fear; I was a dedicated student, pouring all my energy into preparing for pre-med programs with a specific interest in holistic and Eastern medicine. Because of that, I hadn't dated anyone seriously until the end of senior year. Besides, I was convinced I was just another trophy for Ethan to collect.
Physically, I had been lucky with genetics. My mother and grandmother were striking, expressive women, and I'd clearly inherited those traits. Ethan was always a perfect gentleman with me—never pushy, never rude, and constantly surprising me with flowers. He wasn't even phased by the fact that I came from a modest background.
My mother raised me alone on a teacher's salary. We lived in a cramped one-bedroom apartment, struggling to make ends meet. Ethan told me he admired my serious outlook on life, my pride, and my commitment to traditional values.
After graduation, I achieved my goal and started my first year of university, while Ethan enrolled in an International Relations program. To my surprise, we stayed together, though our relationship didn't have the cinematic passion you see in romantic dramas. Perhaps it was me; I was naturally calm—composed and objective rather than impulsive. I tended to follow my head more than my heart.
Two years passed.
***
Ethan's father became a high-ranking official in the city administration. His mother's business was thriving—a chain of boutiques across the city, high-end salons, and partnerships with major e-commerce platforms. There were other profitable ventures I didn't even keep track of, while my mother's and my financial situation remained exactly the same. I tried to earn extra money between classes by tutoring, and Mom worked as hard as she could. Ethan tried to help me out financially, but I refused his money. I didn't want to feel beholden to him.
His parents wanted him to find a bride from their own social circle, but he was head-over-heels for me. When they tried to forbid him from seeing me, he even had a health scare involving a desperate plea for attention with some pills, though thank God he was fine. After that, they stopped trying to block our relationship, but his mother began to openly despise me.
Then, one day, Ethan proposed. We had been dating for quite a while, and he felt it was time to take the next step. He saw me as a virtuous wife and a future mother; he was also moved by the fact that I never asked him for money, unlike his previous flings, whom he described as "pretty packaging with nothing inside." Naturally, his mother fought the wedding with every fiber of her being, throwing tantrums and telling him he was throwing away his future. She even tried to offer me a settlement to leave him. Interestingly, his father, Robert, didn't mind the match, saying that with me, Ethan would have a loyal partner and a real foundation.
Despite the tension with his family, I agreed to marry him. I can't say I was madly in love in the way I'd dreamed about as a girl watching movies. There wasn't that kind of fire; it was more about respect and a sense of security. But I'll admit one more thing: through this marriage, I wanted to fix things for my mother and me. I wanted to give her a peaceful, comfortable life in her later years and finally clear our debts. Ethan was generous; he understood our situation.
***
Finally, the wedding day was set. As you can imagine, the wedding of a prominent official's son didn't go unnoticed by the local media. Even though everyone knows everyone in our city, some journalists were quite cynical about the groom's choice—meaning me. No one insulted me directly—there was nothing to attack—but the narrative that I'd "hit the jackpot" was whispered everywhere.
Just before the wedding, I was so close to a breakdown that I wanted to call the whole thing off; the public scrutiny was exhausting. But again, credit goes to Ethan and Robert—they handled the brunt of the media pressure. After the wedding, we wanted to move to the capital, but Ethan's parents insisted we stay close. They gave us a small house near theirs as a wedding gift. It wasn't exactly what I'd dreamed of; Ethan and I wanted to start our own independent life. He wanted to transfer to a prestigious university in the city and start his own IT business, and I wanted to get as far away as possible from his mother, who never missed a chance to belittle me.
Ethan's parents used their influence to keep us from leaving. Robert remained kind to me, mentioning that I reminded him of his first love, whose name was also Stacy. After the wedding, he didn't interfere in our lives and was always polite. He even called me "Stace," which drove my mother-in-law into a silent rage, though she would just offer a strained smile and try to appear civil in front of her husband.
But when we were alone, she didn't hold back. She called me every name in the book and cursed my entire family. I felt terrible for my mother; she was so worried about the mother-in-law's hatred, but there was nothing we could do. We weren't their equals—just ordinary, working people—but we didn't have a drop of malice in our hearts. When I finally reached my breaking point, I convinced Ethan to go to his parents and ask for the funds to move and start over in the city. Ethan wanted to leave too, but he was used to a life of luxury and wasn't ready to move without a financial safety net. He thought it would be easier to talk to his mother, but she flatly refused. She told him point-blank she would disinherit him if he left. That shut Ethan up; he came home and tried to convince me we should stay.
I got truly angry with my husband for the first time that night, and we had our first real fight. I told Ethan that if he couldn't talk to his parents, I would. The next day, I went to Robert. I showed up right at his office in the middle of the day. I was fighting for my happiness and the future of my family. I knew if I went to their house, I'd just run into his hysterical wife and get insulted again.
Robert was surprised by my visit, but he seemed happy to see me. He immediately called his secretary, moved some meetings, and said he always had time for me. He offered me tea and sweets and settled in to listen. He could clearly see I was at the end of my rope. I didn't hold back. I told him everything—how his wife's hatred was suffocating me and how Ethan had wanted to leave the nest for a long time.
Robert listened intently, nodding and agreeing with me. At the end of the conversation, I added that I was ready to do anything just to move away with my husband. When he heard that, he looked at me with an intrigued smirk.
"Anything, you say?"
I hesitated for a second, but I was so fed up that I nodded decisively. "Yes, anything. I have no choice. Please, help us."
At that moment, Robert got up from his chair, walked to the door, and locked it. He slowly poured himself a drink and said, "Well, if you're truly ready for anything, then be my mistress. Your duties start right now. I can see perfectly well you don't love Ethan—you're only with him for the lifestyle. I don't feel guilty. He isn't actually my biological son, and he only 'loves' me for the money too. It's all about the money, my dear. That's the way the world turns."
And unfortunately, he was right. I liked Ethan, but mostly I was with him for the security. I had used him as a way out of poverty. Hating myself, I agreed to Robert's proposal and gave myself to him right there on his desk. Even though I was doing it for my family's independence, I realized to my shame that I didn't feel disgusted; I actually enjoyed the intimacy. Robert was experienced and attentive, and for the first time in my life, there on that desk, I experienced a level of pleasure I'd never known.
Robert was satisfied. He asked me to keep this a secret and told me we could start preparing for the move the very next day. He promised he would visit us a couple of times a month.
***
Ethan didn't know, and I hoped he never would, what price I had paid for our freedom.
We finally moved to the city, where Ethan focused on his studies and his business, while I secretly met with his father—my own father-in-law.
But it couldn't last forever. My mother-in-law grew suspicious; she noticed Robert was traveling to see us too often and decided to follow him. She hired a private investigator and caught us. To be honest, after all the humiliation I'd suffered at her hands, I felt a twisted sense of superiority over this woman who was suddenly so vulnerable.
When she caused a public scene in the hotel lobby where her husband had taken me, I just looked at her calmly and even smiled.
Ethan and I broke up that same day, and we were divorced within a week—I'm sure his mother pulled some strings there too. Robert eventually divorced his wife as well; it was a loud, messy legal battle over assets, but he managed to keep his position. He wanted to maintain a relationship with me after the divorce, but I stopped seeing him. There was no reason to anymore.
I was just glad to be done with that family. I had managed to save a decent amount of money in my own account. I stayed in the city and moved my mother in with me, but soon I started feeling off. A pregnancy test with two pink lines confirmed my fears.
Technically, I could live however I wanted now. I didn't feel much guilt; I only felt bad for betraying Ethan, but I had been fighting for our family's freedom, even if the method was wrong. He hadn't stepped up. There's no real excuse for me, though. I just hope that one day Ethan can understand. Either way, the child I was carrying was either his brother or his son. Regardless, I talked to my mom, and we decided to keep the baby.
***
Time passed.
My son, Oliver, was already three years old. He was a bright, unusual child—always counting coins and promising to buy me the biggest house in the world when he grew up. That day, we were at a popular bakery in the city. Oliver loved their croissants. As usual, we got our coffee and treats and sat at our favorite corner table. He was telling me a story when I heard a hauntingly familiar voice behind me.
"Stacy... Stace, I found you."
I nearly lost my breath. Standing before me was Robert. My former father-in-law.
"What are you doing here in the city?"
Robert was staring at Oliver, who was a carbon copy of him. Judging by the stunned look on Robert's face and his incoherent mumbling, I realized he knew.
It turned out that over a year ago, Robert had been promoted and moved to the capital. His ex-wife had taken her share of the assets and moved abroad permanently with her son, Ethan. Robert had never remarried, and he told me he thought about me often. He had ended up in the bakery by mistake, having walked through the wrong side door while trying to get to a business lunch at the attached restaurant, and there we were. To his silent question, I only nodded and began to cry.
From that day on, we stayed together. Soon we moved in, and eventually, we married. To be absolutely certain, Robert did a DNA test, which confirmed he was the father. He absolutely adores Oliver. I work as a marketing manager now, and my mom retrained as an accountant and works at the same firm. Oliver has grown up and started school.
Everything has finally settled. Don't judge me too harshly. No one knows what tomorrow brings, so I live for today. I'm just happy that my family is healthy and we have a good life. It was a rocky path, but we finally found our happiness.
0 comments