My Anniversary Revealed I Was His MistressChapter 1
Today marks our fourth wedding anniversary. My gaze lingered on the keys resting on the table — the red Ferrari I had arranged for Sebastian. He’d talked about owning one for years, and I wanted to surprise him. My other hand drifted to my stomach, a soft smile forming on my lips.
Soon, we would have a baby.
Life felt complete. It felt safe. Perfect, even.
That illusion shattered when Logan walked into my room without knocking. He had done that all my life, ever since we were children, but today something in his expression made my chest tighten.
“Isabella,” he said, voice strained and rough. “Sebastian already has a wife.”
For a second, I just stared at him. Then I let out a small laugh, because the claim sounded too absurd to take seriously.
“That’s your anniversary greeting?” I teased lightly, turning back to the mirror to fix my earrings. “You’re supposed to congratulate me, not start rumors. Is this about you thinking he’s not right for me again? We settled this when I chose to marry him. It’s been four years, Logan.”
“I’m serious,” he insisted, stepping closer. “He’s legally married — and it’s to his secretary, Candela. I checked everything. There are documents, registrations. He’s been lying about his identity from the start.”
My heart faltered, but I forced myself to stay calm.
“Enough,” I said quietly, meeting his eyes. “Not today. I don’t want to hear this.”
“I’m trying to protect you,” he replied, frustration slipping into his tone.
“And he saved my life once,” I countered. “He cares about me. Why would he lie? We’ve been together for years—”
“Exactly,” Logan cut in. “Four years, yet you don’t know anything about his family. Where he came from. His background. You handed him your company, let him handle your finances… and you don’t see the problem?”
“You’re saying this,” I murmured, “because you still haven’t gotten over me.”
His silence answered for him.
“Logan,” I softened, “please don’t ruin this. Don’t destroy something good just because you can’t move forward.”
“Isabella—”
“I don’t want to argue anymore.” I grabbed my coat, stepping past him, ignoring the slight shake in my hands.
He reached for me, but I pulled away before he could touch me.