Betrayed by My Husband A Wife's Final RevengeChapter 1
During the New Year holiday, my husband brought his distant cousin to stay with us and told me to take good care of her.
That was when I discovered my husband was obsessed with spoiling her.
No matter what she did wrong, he always blamed me—said I wasn't looking after her properly, wasn't fulfilling my duties as her sister-in-law.
Then Yolanda Abbott got bored. She snuck off to a nightclub behind my back and nearly got assaulted by some thug.
When my husband found out, he pulled her into his arms, his heart aching for her.
Then he turned around and slapped me across the face.
"You took her there, didn't you? She almost had her whole life ruined!"
"Since you love that scene so much, you can stay here! You can die here for all I care!"
He called the club's madam and had me forced into working as a hostess.
What he didn't know was that on the very first night—
I was tormented to death.
——
The madam arrived quickly.
When she saw me, she froze.
"Mr. Sanchez, what is this...?"
"Put her to work." Rupert Sanchez's voice was ice.
Four words. No room for argument.
The madam's eyes went wide. "This... this doesn't seem right..."
"She brought it on herself." Rupert cut her off.
He walked toward me, the toe of his leather shoe nearly touching my knee.
"'Mrs. Sanchez.'" He spat the title like poison. "You were trash before I met you. Drop the act."
The air turned to stone.
The madam's expression shifted instantly—servile, understanding. She'd gotten the message.
"Of course, Mr. Sanchez. How silly of me. Mrs. Sanchez has quite the figure. Top-tier, really."
"Assign her to whoever likes it rough," Rupert said.
He turned toward the window, his back to me.
"Let her get a real taste of what goes on in here."
My parents rushed over the moment they heard.
My mother threw herself at Rupert's feet, clinging to his legs.
"Rupert! You can't do this! If Aileen Henson works as a hostess, our family's reputation will be destroyed! What will people in business circles say?"
"Mom..."
Seeing her on her knees before him, I finally forced out a single word.
She turned to look at me, her eyes hollow with despair.
"Aileen, beg him! Get on your knees and kowtow! Tell him you were wrong!"
Rupert laughed.
"Would an apology change anything?"
Then he pried her fingers off his leg, one by one.
"Every shred of dignity your family has—I gave it to you."