His Mistress Mocked Me, I Dumped My Loving "Perfect" Husband

Lilia's POV: Everyone in the Moretti Family knew Angus Moretti was head over heels for me. Everyone thought we'd spend the rest of our lives happily married, and I believed it too. That all changed the day I received a photo. In the picture, a wild, shameless woman covered from head to toe in obvious hickeys was curled up snugly in Angus's arms. She followed it with a message, blatantly taunting me. Unknown: Angus says only a wild, sexy chick like me can satisfy him. You? You're a stale baguette that's been sitting out for days, dry, crusty, and completely unappetizing. Unknown: If something isn't even edible, it belongs in the trash, right, Lilia? I deleted the photo and messages, my face completely expressionless. Then I dialed a number. I said, "Come get me in 7 days." ***** I'd actually been receiving emails from Angus's mistress for an entire month before that. She sent all kinds of racy photos of the two of them tangled up together, along with explicit videos. Her shameless moans and Angus's heavy, ragged breathing drove home one brutal truth, that the man who was supposed to marry me in 3 months had been cheating on me for a long time. Around the same time, a group of strangers tracked me down. They told me I was the long-lost daughter of the Don of the Gramont Family in the Republic of Bellavere. The old man was getting on in years, and managing the entire family had become too much for him. He'd summoned all his children home to take part in a succession challenge. Whoever came out on top would become the next Don of the Gramont Family. If I hadn't discovered Angus's betrayal, I never would have gone anywhere near those people. But at that moment, they were exactly the way out I needed. I gave myself 7 days to erase every trace of the life I'd built here. The car came to a smooth stop, and my driver, Elliot, spoke politely from the front seat, "Mrs. Moretti, we're at the bridal shop." Ever since I'd accepted Angus's proposal, he'd ordered everyone in the Moretti Family to call me "Mrs. Moretti" in preparation for the wedding. He'd said he wanted the whole world to know I was the only woman he'd ever love. He couldn't even wait for the ceremony, he'd wanted me to take his last name right then and there. But how long had it even been since then? He already had a mistress. How laughable. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a message from Angus. Angus: Baby, head into the shop first, okay? I've got some last-minute family business to take care of, so I might be a little late. Once I'm done, I'll take you to that restaurant you love so much. He'd even added a kissing emoji at the end. I stared at that little icon, my expression completely blank. The wedding dress had been custom-made just for me. Angus had hired the shop's top designer the moment I agreed to marry him. He'd promised he'd be here today, right by my side, to watch me try it on. But now he claimed he was busy handling "family business." Was it really family business, though? "Mrs. Moretti?" When I didn't move to get out of the car, Elliot called out again, confusion creeping into his voice. Just then, my phone buzzed a second time. It was another message from his mistress. This time, it was a video. I told Elliot to step farther away before I tapped play. The footage had been shot at the vacation manor Angus and I owned together. They hadn't even bothered to wait until they got inside. They were carrying on right there on the lawn. Angus was rough with her, while she moaned loudly, her nails raking a long, raw scratch down his arm. Then she giggled coyly and asked, "Oh, my dear master, you're so good. Do you ever go this hard with your wife?" "My little wild kitten, don't mention her while we're doing this," Angus said impatiently, "7 years of the same boring routine? I got sick of her ages ago. If you've got enough attention left to think about someone else, then I'm clearly not working hard enough. Get down on all fours and lift that waist for me." Angus used to tell me that every inch of my skin was like a drug he couldn't quit, that he was hopelessly addicted to me. He'd said I was etched into his DNA, and that no other woman would ever exist for him as long as he lived. But now? He was sick of me. I squeezed my phone hard, and my stomach twisted into painful knots. I couldn't hold it back. I leaned halfway out of the car, doubled over, and threw up. When Elliot spotted what was happening from where he stood farther away, he immediately rushed over. "Mrs. Moretti, are you all right? I'll call Mr. Moretti right away!" I raised a hand to stop him, then took the water he offered and rinsed my mouth. "No need. He's busy. Let's go home. It's about time I cleaned out all the trash." Elliot thought I was talking about the mess on the ground and quickly offered to call someone to clean it up. Only I knew what I was really talking about.