He Chose His Mistress Over Me,Until She Murdered His Mother

I was vacationing with my mom in the Maldives when a photo arrived from my husband Clay Farley's interna woman splayed open on an operating table, her chest cavity cracked wide, organs exposed.

It came with a voice message, dripping with venom:

Dorothy Simmons, your trashy little relative sure thinks she's something special. Is everyone from your backwater town this shameless about mooching off others?

"Dr. Farley just got promoted to attending physician, and you send your freeloader of a mother to leech off his hospital? As Dr. Farley's favorite intern, I have every right to handle problems on his behalf."

"I could crack a chest open one-handed. She made a perfect practice case. Only shame is wasting a perfectly good operating table on some nobody old hag. Complete waste of medical resources. This is what your mother gets for faking sick to mooch off people!"

I froze. My eyes lifted to the woman sitting across from me. My mom was right there, perfectly fine.

Then my stomach dropped. An hour ago, I'd received word that Clay's mother had suffered a heart attack. I'd called Clay myself, begging him to perform the surgery personally.

The realization hit me like ice water. I zoomed in on the photo with shaking hands.

The woman on that table was my mother-in-law.

Blood roared in my ears. I dialed Evangeline Fox, my voice cold enough to freeze steel. "Evangeline Fox, do you have any idea who's on your operating table? That's Clay Farley's biological mother. You're using her as a practice case?"

Evangeline didn't miss a beat.

"Dr. Farley already told meyour mom is your mom, and his mom is his mom. He never once considered your mother family. She leeches off the Farley name and still isn't satisfied, trying to climb the social ladder over a little illness. I'm teaching her a lesson on Dr. Farley's behalf. What's the problem?"

"You're wrong! That IS his mother, not mine!" I screamed, the words tearing out of me. The absurdity of it was maddening.

"Oh, drop the act. Dr. Farley said it himselfyour mother is a pathetic freeloader. Wouldn't be a loss if she dropped dead."

Then Evangeline sent another voice message. Clay Farley's voice filled my ear, unmistakable: "Evangeline, don't waste your breath on her. She's just some dirt-poor mother-in-law. Not worth your time. Do whatever you want with the surgery. If anything goes wrong, I'll take the heat."

I didn't waste another second. I booked the first flight out and raced toward the airport, dialing Clay's number over and over until he picked up.

"Clay, your mom is in the operating room at your hospital. She's in critical danger. You need to get there now"

"Enough. I know what you're going to say." Clay cut me off, his voice flat and cold. "I think Evangeline was right to teach her a lesson."

I couldn't process his words. "What did you just say?"

His tone turned hard, laced with disgust. "Dorothy Simmons, your mother's greed is written all over her face. Everyone can see it. She's using some fake illness to shake me down, and Evangeline put her in her place. So what? She deserved it. Maybe she'll learn not to try milking the Farley family for everything we're worth."

Panic clawed at my throat. "You've got it wrong. She's your"

"Enough!"

Clay's impatience crackled through the line.

"So what if she's my mother-in-law? Dorothy, we may be married, but your mother needs to learn some basic boundaries. She can't just ride on the fact that you're my wife to squeeze every last benefit out of me."

"My mother is sitting right next to me!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "She's fine! She's here in the Maldives! The woman on that operating table is YOUR mother. The woman who gave birth to you. The woman who raised you!"

Clay erupted. "Stop making up stories for sympathy! When did you pick up this habit of lying? I know exactly what kind of person your mother is. Today she fakes an illness to exploit the hospital. Tomorrow she'll show up at my door demanding a share of the family assets. Evangeline did the right thing. Don't bother about whether she lives or dies."

His words turned the frantic heat in my chest to solid ice.

My mother wasn't a wealthy woman, but she had spent her entire life being kind and honest. She had never taken advantage of a single soul. When it came to Clay, she had only ever given, never asked for anything in return.

Before Clay had even started at the hospital, when the pressure of studying was crushing him, my mom hadn't hesitated. She'd handed over every penny of her life savings so he could focus on preparing for his exams without worry.

She knew his stomach was weak, knew how grueling the hours were. No matter how busy she got, she always found time to prepare meals that were gentle on his digestion, hoping to ease even a fraction of his burden.

And this was the woman Clay called a shameless parasite who deserved to be punished. A woman who had treated him like her own son.

Something inside me went quiet. When I spoke again, my voice had lost its urgency, settling into something flat and distant.

"Clay, your mother's condition is critical. I'm telling you to get to that operating room and save her. She raised you single-handedly. The least you can do is show up."

Clay exploded.

"What is wrong with you, Dorothy? When did your mother ever raise me? No wonder Evangeline couldn't help herself. With a daughter like you, your mother had it coming!"

"You think this little stunt requires my attention? Evangeline graduated top of her class. She knows what she's doing. It's a minor procedure. Don't think you can use your connection to me to hog medical resources."

"My mother's birthday gala is in three days. I still have a surprise and a party to plan for her. I don't have time for your nonsense."

The line went dead.

I was about to redial when a notification popped up on my screen. Clay had just posted on social media.

I tapped it open. Three minutes ago. A beautifully designed birthday gala invitation, accompanied by a caption dripping with filial devotion: "Three days from now, I'm hosting a birthday celebration for the mother I love and admire most. Wishing her health and happiness for every year to come, and sweetness for the rest of her days."

I hit the like button.

The fury from being humiliated moments ago dissolved, replaced by something quieter. Curiosity.

When he found out that his mother was the one on Evangeline Fox's operating tablethat his beloved mother was the one being carved open like a lab specimenwhat kind of reaction would this devoted son have?

I reached the hospital just as the first gray light of dawn crept across the sky. The operating room lights had long since gone dark.

My mother-in-law lay beneath a stark white sheet, the wound on her chest not even sutured shut. The cold seeped through the fabric when I touched her, snuffing out my last shred of hope.

She'd been left there alone in a corner. Not a single person had come to check on her. And Clay hadn't shown his face once.

I swallowed the pain in my chest and began making arrangements, but my phone kept buzzing with messages from Evangeline. Every single one was a photo or video of her and Clay together.

Him holding her hand at the mall. Buying her expensive jewelry. Taking her to upscale restaurants. In every shot, his smile was soft and warm, a completely different man from the one who screamed at me like I was nothing.

The caption she'd attached was even worse: "Dr. Farley says he's going to take good care of me from now on. The people who dragged him down aren't worth a second glance."

I stared at those images until my fingertips turned white from gripping the phone. I didn't reply. I just threw myself into preparing the funeral.

Three days passed in a blur. The memorial was set up on an open lot near the hospital. White silk, black gauze, the low drone of mourning music. Hardly any guests. Cold and quiet.

A few steps away, a high-end restaurant blazed with lights and color. Drums and music poured from its doors. It was the birthday banquet Clay had organized for his "most beloved mother."

A red silk arch stood directly across from the memorial hall, gold lettering gleaming in shameless celebration: Wishing Mrs. Farley boundless fortune and everlasting health. Well-dressed guests streamed past with gifts in hand, laughing and chatting. Not one of them noticed the mourning next door. Not one of them heard the funeral music, as if that single stretch of pavement separated two entirely different worlds.

I had just finished lighting incense before my mother-in-law's memorial tablet when I saw Evangeline strolling over on Clay's arm. She wore an elegant gown, her makeup done up heavy and flawless. The moment she spotted me, her lips curled into a look of practiced sympathy, though her voice carried loud enough for every guest nearby to hear.

"Dorothy, I'm so sorry. I had no idea your family was going through something like this. If I'd known sooner, I would've asked Dr. Farley to move the banquet somewhere else. This is just so... unfortunate."

Clay's arm was wrapped around her waist. His expression darkened the instant his gaze swept over the memorial hall, disgust plain on his face. "Dorothy, you did this on purpose, didn't you? Setting up your mother's memorial right here just to ruin my mom's birthday? What the hell is wrong with you?"

I looked at him standing there, so self-righteous, so sure of himself, and almost laughed. I raised my hand and pointed toward the birthday arch across the way.

"Clay, are you blind, or just heartless? This is your own mother's memorial."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Clay's voice cracked like a whip, fury blazing behind his eyes. "My mom is fine. There's no way she's gone. You just can't stand to see me happy, so you're using your dead mother to curse mine. You're sick, Dorothy. You're truly sick."

That was when Audrey Farley came charging over in a glittering party dress, jabbing her finger in my face.

"Have you no shame, Dorothy? My brother finally does something nice for our mom, and you park your bargain-bin dead mother's memorial right next door just to spite us?"

"My mom cares about good fortune more than anything, and you pull this? Bringing death to her doorstep? You just want to make sure the Farley family never has a moment's peace!"

The guests had gathered around by now, pointing at me and the memorial, their whispers sharp enough to cut.

"So that's Dr. Farley's mother-in-law? Can't even rest in peace without stirring up trouble."

"Exactly. Wasn't it enough to leech off the Farleys while she was alive? Now she's dead and still bringing bad luck to their party. No class whatsoever."

"Dr. Farley really drew the short straw, marrying into that family. Nothing but trashy, spiteful people."

"Miss Fox is so much better. Sweet, considerate. A hundred times the woman Dorothy is. Dr. Farley should be with her."

Evangeline nestled into Clay's chest, her eyes glistening with carefully manufactured tears, her voice a fragile whisper. "Don't be upset, Dr. Farley. Dorothy's just heartbroken over losing her mom. She's not thinking straight. I don't blame her."

That little performance only made Clay more protective. He whipped around to glare at me, his tone cold as ice. "Dorothy, out of respect for Evangeline's kind heart, I won't hold this against you. But you need to move this memorial. Now. Get it out of here before it ruins my mother's birthday."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a check, and flung it at my feet. "There's five hundred thousand dollars. Enough to give your mother a proper funeral. Take the money and go. Don't let me see your face again."

The check drifted to the ground and landed in front of my mother-in-law's memorial tablet. I stared at that flimsy slip of paper, then looked up at the man standing before me, a man I no longer recognized.

Slowly, I bent down. Picked up the check. Tore it to shreds. And let the pieces scatter in front of him.

"Clay." Each word fell from my lips like a blade, my voice steady and laced with bone-deep cold. "Read the name on that tablet. It says Nancy Farley. Your mother. The woman who gave birth to you and raised you. The birthday banquet you threw for her? Her funeral is right next door. The mother you keep calling your 'most beloved'? She's lying in there. She's been cold for three days."

The color drained from Clay's face in an instant, as if something had struck him square between the eyes. He stood frozen, unable to move.

The moment she heard the commotion, Audrey squeezed her way to Clay's side. She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin up, looking down at me as though I were something beneath her notice.

"Dorothy, quit playing dumb and spouting nonsense! My mom is perfectly fine. It's her birthday, and she'll be here any minute. Your mother didn't know her place, faked an illness, and got herself killed. That's on her. Don't you dare try to pin this on Evangeline!"

With a flick of her wrist, she signaled to the servant behind her, who immediately produced a document and slapped it down on the memorial table in front of me. The white silk draping shuddered from the impact, and a fine shower of incense ash drifted to the floor.

"Be smart about this. Sign the pardon letter. Evangeline is being generous enough to overlook your mother's little scam. Don't push your luck."

Clay glanced at the document, his expression dark and sharp-edged, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Dorothy. Sign it. Consider the matter closed. Stop dragging your mother's death into my mom's birthday banquet, or I promise you won't like what happens next."

I lowered my gaze to the paper. The words were plain enough: Evangeline Fox bears no responsibility. Dorothy Simmons voluntarily waives all claims.

I pushed it back across the table. My voice was flat, without a ripple of emotion. "If anyone should be signing something, it's you two. I'm not the one with standing here."

Clay took that as defiance. His voice dropped to a register so low it practically vibrated with menace. "Dorothy, don't test me. Your mother was an unemployed old woman. She contributed nothing to this world. Evangeline is young. She has a brilliant career ahead of her. Are you really going to ruin her entire future over a dead woman?"

"Exactly!" Audrey piled on without missing a beat, her words dripping with cruelty. "Your mother was a waste of space, leeching off the Farley family. Evangeline did everyone a favor by getting rid of that burden. You should be grateful, not trying to shake us down. How thick can your skin possibly be?"

The guests around us chimed in, their whispered barbs flying like needles. Not a single one pierced me. I lifted my eyes and swept a cold gaze across the Farley siblings, enunciating every word.

"You've got it wrong. What I mean is, the person who died on the operating table was your mother. This pardon letter? You should be signing it for her."

Audrey exploded instantly, her voice shrill enough to crack glass. "Dorothy, have you lost your mind?! Cursing my mother at her own birthday banquet? You've gone insane with grief!"

Clay's face turned ashen. A vein at his temple throbbed violently, and he jabbed a finger at me, barely containing his fury. "Dorothy, I've been far too lenient with you all these years. That's clearly why you've become so brazen you've forgotten basic respect for your elders. My mother is the most important person in my life. No one disrespects her. Not even you. I don't care that you're my wife."

Rage had consumed him completely. He whipped around to the bodyguards behind him and barked, "Go in there and smash that memorial tablet to pieces. Drag the body out and dump it at Potter's Field! Let's see how her ungrateful daughter exploits the Farley family after that!"

The bodyguards hesitated. They looked at Clay, red-faced and seething, then at me, standing perfectly still. One of them spoke up cautiously. "Dr. Farley, that doesn't seem... I mean, with all due respect, the deceased..."

"What's the problem?" Clay roared. The viciousness in his eyes was barely contained. "Her daughter dared to curse my mother. This is the consequence. Do what I said. If anything comes of it, I'll take full responsibility."

The bodyguard didn't dare refuse again. He rolled up his sleeves and started toward the memorial hall. The guests around me pointed and whispered, their voices grating and relentless.

"Dorothy's completely lost it. Touching Dr. Farley's sore spot like that. Everyone knows he worships his mother. She's got a death wish."

"No kidding. Old Mrs. Farley raised those two all by herself. Dr. Farley treats her like she's made of glass. And Dorothy goes and curses her mother-in-law at her own birthday banquet? Disgraceful doesn't begin to cover it."

"No wonder her mother died. Having a daughter that clueless must be karma from a past life. She had it coming."

I ignored every last word. My gaze locked onto Clay, and when I spoke, my voice was quiet but edged with a cold that cut to the bone. "Clay. Are you sure you want to take this all the way?"

He stared down at me, chin lifted high, his tone glacial and merciless. "Dorothy, you brought this on yourself. Your mother died because she was shameless. She loved a free ride, faked being sick to scam her way into surgery. That's no one's fault but hers. And you had no right to use her death to curse my mother at her birthday banquet, spreading your bad luck to everyone here."

"If you ask me, your mother deserved to die young for raising an ungrateful, disrespectful daughter like you."

The words had barely left his mouth when the doors to the memorial hall opened with a soft creak.

My mother stood in the doorway, holding a modestly wrapped birthday gift she'd prepared for her mother-in-law. She looked out at the crowded courtyard, then at Clay's contorted, furious face, and blinked in confusion.

"What's going on? Clay, I just got here from the airport. I brought a gift for your mother." She paused, glancing around. "Why does it sound like someone's talking about a death?"

The rage on Clay's face froze solid in an instant, as if every ounce of strength had been ripped from his body. His eyes went wide. He stared at my mother standing in the doorway, his mouth opening and closing, unable to produce a single sound. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

The guests hadn't noticed Clay's reaction yet. They were too busy sizing up my plainly dressed mother, their faces twisting with disdain and confusion as a fresh wave of murmuring rippled through the crowd.