My Husband's Father Wants Me

1 The charity gala ended early, and all I wanted was to surprise Ethan before he plunged back into his work. Holding the spare key in my trembling hand, I unlocked the bedroom door quietly, expecting to find him hunched over his laptop. Instead, the scene before me shattered my entire world. My husband was on our bed with another woman. Shock pinned me to the doorway. Neither of them noticed me until the woman opened her eyes. Sienna. His secretary—the woman who bore a striking resemblance to his first love. The same woman he had repeatedly accused me of being paranoid about. Sienna tapped Ethan’s shoulder, her breath hitching. He froze, turning slowly until his eyes met mine. The silence in the room was suffocating. I forced air into my lungs, my voice barely above a whisper. "How long has this been going on?" Ethan didn't rush to cover himself. He didn't look remorseful. He simply pulled up his trousers, his expression as cold and indifferent as if I were a stranger interrupting a business meeting. "How long what?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "You come home early without warning, and now you’re demanding answers to things that aren't your concern." "Not my concern?" My hands clamped around my handbag so hard my knuckles turned white, fighting to keep my voice from cracking. "I am your wife, Ethan." "On paper, Arabella," he corrected sharply. "This marriage has been a dead arrangement for years. Don't stand there playing the heartbroken wife. You knew we weren't happy. We were never a real couple." The words hit with the physical force of a blow. "We were trying," I rasped, taking a deliberate step toward him. "Or at least, I was. While I waited up for you every night, you were building a life with her." Beside him, Sienna pulled the silk sheet over her chest. A flash of triumph crossed her face before it was quickly replaced with a fragile, fearful facade. The usual pitiful expression she wore when facing me, "I… I didn't want you to find out like this, Arabella," she stammered, sniffing softly. "I never meant to hurt you, but you have to accept reality. Ethan doesn't love you anymore. He's been preparing the divorce papers for months..." She stopped abruptly, glancing at Ethan as if she had let the secret slip by mistake. The silence from Ethan confirmed every word. "So you were discussing our marriage with your secretary while telling me everything was fine?" I asked, a bitter laugh threatening to spill out. "She's right about the divorce," Ethan said flatly, avoiding my eyes. "I was going to present the papers next week anyway. There's no need to make a scene." "You replaced me," I whispered, the harsh reality settling into my chest. "And you planned the exit behind my back." I swallowed the sob rising in my throat and reached for my left hand. My fingers were shaking, but my resolve hardened. I slid the diamond band off my finger. Three years of indifference flashing through my mind in 3 seconds. "Fine," I said, my voice dropping to an icy stillness. "You want a divorce? I agree." I stepped forward and dropped the wedding ring onto the mattress right beside Sienna. Ethan’s eyes widened, his calm composure faltering for the first time. "What are you doing?" "Saving you the trouble," I replied, holding my head high. "You don't have to wait until next week. Send the papers to my lawyer—" I caught myself, the truth slicing through me. I no longer had a personal lawyer. I was no longer the proud Morgan heiress whose family backed empires. I was just the powerless wife of Ethan Sterling. The one he was finally discarding. I forced the vulnerability down. "Call me when they're ready to sign." I turned on my heel and walked out. "Arabella, stop!" Ethan snapped, his footsteps echoing behind me. "You can't just walk away without discussing how we manage the press and the family!" "You made your choice, Ethan. Manage your own mess." "Don't you dare walk out on me!" he warned, reaching for my arm. "Ethan... ouch! It hurts!" Sienna’s painful cry echoed from the bedroom, stalling his pursuit. At the top of the stairs, I glanced back one last time. His eyes burned with dark fury; mine met his with quiet defiance. Then I turned and hurried down the stairs, out into the cool night air. My hands shook so violently I couldn't hold my phone steady to order a ride. I rushed down the driveway toward the main gates, needing to put as much distance between myself and the estate as possible. Before I could open an app, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. I pressed the answer button. "Hello, Arabella. It's Mr. Vance." I paused under the streetlamp. Mr. Vance was the head legal counsel for the Sterling family enterprise—a man who answered to only one person—Damian Sterling, Ethan’s father. "Mr. Vance," I said, catching my breath. "If this is about the charity foundation, please call me tomorrow." "This isn't about the foundation, Mrs. Sterling," Mr. Vance said, his tone gravely serious. "I've been instructed to contact you immediately." "Instructed by whom?" "Mr. Damian Sterling," Vance replied crisply. "He requires your presence in his office right away. I have a car waiting at the end of your street." The line went dead. I looked down the block. A sleek, black sedan sat idling by the curb, its rear door held open by a driver in dark livery. My heart hammered against my ribs. Why was the formidable CEO of the Sterling empire reaching out to me the exact moment I left his son? By this time of the night too?