From Wife to Aunt: His Worst Nightmare novel Chapter 1

Tonight was the night I, Zara Yaxley, got to sleep with my husband, Steve Griffin, every once in a month.

I let out a soft gasp by accident.

Steve's cold eyes hadn't shown any trace of desire in a long time.

"Zara, you broke the rules," he said flatly before pulling on a bathrobe and walking toward the bathroom.

Left alone on the bed, I shut my eyes in humiliation.

Everything had changed three years ago after our first child died at birth.

Back then, under the excuse of grieving for our deceased child, Steve built a private chapel inside our villa. Incense burned in there all year round in devotion.

He said that a pious man shouldn't let himself indulge in fleshly pleasures. So, we could only sleep together once a month at most.

On top of that, I wasn't allowed to make any improper sounds when we made love. The reason Steve gave was that it would be unholy.

Even though I was only 25 and had needs of intimacy, I could do nothing but comply with what he had decided upon.

...

Steve left our home in the middle of the night.

Not long after, my phone rang. I got a call from my best friend, Juliet Simpson.

Juliet sounded frantic as she said, "Zara, go check the trending searches right now! The guy who is supposedly Isabel Stone's sugar daddy looks like Steve!"

The moment I clicked into the trending topic, my head buzzed and went blank.

The article wrote, "Breaking news! Rising star Isabel Stone is suspected of climbing the ranks with the backing of a mysterious patron! His identity is yet to be revealed!"

The photo was just a blurry silhouette shot from behind. But how could I not recognize my own husband? That right hand that always held a string of rosary beads was now wrapped around Isabel's slim waist as they entered a hotel together.

At the same time, two anonymous emails popped up on my phone. A series of high-resolution photos came into view.

In the first, Steve was kneeling on one knee. In his arms, he was holding a little girl with rosy cheeks. She looked like a doll in her fluffy dress. Looping her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek.

In the second, Isabel reached out to brush the dust off his shoulder. Steve didn't dodge her touch with the icy indifference he used on me. Instead, he let her do as she pleased with a faint smile on his face.

...

Dozens of photos later, I finally understood why Steve had grown colder and colder toward me over the past three years.

It probably wasn't because he was determined to be a pious man.

It was because he was cheating.

My fingers dug into my palms as I took slow, steady breaths. I forced myself to calm down before opening the second email.

It contained only one line, "Mrs. Griffin, do you want this to be exposed or will you buy it from me for ten million dollars?"

I responded, "I'll buy it."

After replying to the email, I emptied every cent in my bank account to purchase the photos that could have ruined my husband and his mistress.

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