My Husband's Mistress Was My College RoommateChapter 1
The warehouse workers were off for the New Year holiday, but I was still hauling inventory when my supervisor's relentless calls dragged me to a college reunion.
Every classmate at the table was dressed to impress—polished, expensive, put together.
And then there was me. A work uniform washed so many times it had faded to gray, the cuffs frayed and threadbare.
The real showstopper was my former roommate, Fiona Lawson.
She glided in wearing a couture gown, dripping in jewelry from head to toe.
But the diamond necklace around her neck looked very familiar.
I couldn't help asking, "Fiona, where did you get that necklace? It must have cost a fortune."
"Oh, I didn't buy it. My sugar daddy took it from his wife." She waved her hand dismissively. "I've also got a few prime retail properties—he tricked his wife into thinking the company lost money and had to sell them off. They all went to me."
I nodded sympathetically.
"Times are tough. My husband's company lost money too. We just sold some properties a few days ago to pay off his debts."
One classmate chimed in, "Youth really is an advantage. Your sugar daddy's wife must be old and washed up by now, right?"
"Actually, no. She's the same age as me. Apparently she's even an alumna."
Fiona's lip curled. "She has no class whatsoever. Has new clothes but won't wear them—she'd rather go haul boxes in a warehouse. Spends the whole year in that ratty, worn-out uniform."
"We've been together three years now. He says this is the year he'll make it official."
Necklace. Properties. Alumna. Worn-out work uniform...
She was describing me.
——
Every pair of eyes at the table slowly turned in my direction. Heat crawled up my neck, my face burning under their stares.
I opened my mouth to explain, but Fiona smiled, pressing her lips together.
"Athena Barnes, you had so many rich boys chasing you back in college. I heard you married some nobody with nothing to his name. These past few years must have been rough."
Rough didn't begin to cover it.
I'd married Wilfred Rivera against my parents' explicit wishes—a man without a penny to his name. It cost me my family.
Back then, we'd squeezed into a basement apartment smaller than a hundred square feet.
At our lowest point, I survived on a single bowl of congee a day. Wilfred couldn't even afford that—he drank tap water to fill his stomach.