The Mistress's Revenge, The Wife's Rebirth

1: 1

In the fifth year of my marriage to Andrew Sanchez, his kept woman, Yolanda Croft, and I fell pregnant at the same time.

A fortune-teller had read the charts and said that whichever son was born first would be the chosen heir of the Sanchez family.

But on the day I went into labor, the driver brought me to the hospital entrance, then locked the car doors and refused to let me out.

"Mrs. Sanchez, I'm sorry. Miss Croft's water broke too."

"Mr. Sanchez says you can't be taken in to deliver until she's finished first."

They took my phone.

They left me in that car, in agony, the whole night, until I passed out from the pain.

By the time the sky lightened, Yolanda and her baby were both safe and sound.

Only then did Andrew let them wheel me into the operating room.

But my child had been trapped too long, and died inside me.

And the infection was so severe that they had to remove my uterus entirely.

Seeing the ashen color of my face, Andrew, for once, was gentle as he coaxed me:

"I can't marry Yoli, and Mother doesn't like her. I'm afraid I'll die young, and she'll be left with nothing. She needs an heir to lean on."

"You're already Mrs. Sanchez, and this child is half yours anyway. There's no need for you to have another one and burden yourself with worry."

I couldn't help a bitter smile.

Sparing me the burden was the lie. Clearing the path for Yolanda was the truth.

That night, I knocked on the old Mrs. Sanchez's door.

"You once said that as long as I helped Andrew secure the president's seat, you'd grant me one thing."

"I want a divorce."

The ones who reached me before Andrew were the other kept women, arriving in a pack to sneer.

They looked at me, gloating.

"What's so special about being the real wife? Riding on that pregnancy to keep Mr. Sanchez all to herself, leaving the rest of us out in the cold, and look how it ended for her, empty-handed."

"Now she doesn't even have a womb anymore. It won't be many days before Mr. Sanchez divorces her. Little Yoli's the one with all the luck. Bar singer or not, a mother rises with her son."

Andrew had sealed off every word about the night before.

But everyone knew he'd walked away from a deal worth tens of millions just to be at Yolanda's side while she delivered, and left me tossed aside.

Which of us mattered more didn't need to be said.

So they took all their resentment at being neglected and dumped it on me, the Mrs. Sanchez who was one in name only.

When I heard those words, "kept Mr. Sanchez all to herself," I gave a small, self-mocking laugh.

Since the moment I got pregnant, Andrew hadn't seen a single one of them. Every day he came home to keep me company while I waited to give birth.

But no one knew he'd already quietly moved Yolanda into the house to care for her.

He never set foot in my room. Not once.

After all, he wanted to be with the woman he loved, but he was afraid she'd draw jealousy, that someone would tamper with her and hurt the baby.

And no one made a better shield than me.

While I sat there dazed, a familiar voice came from the doorway:

"Mrs. Sanchez just clawed her way back from death's door. Who let you in here to bother her?"

"Wretched little things, out!"

The kept women scattered in a panic.

Andrew came to the side of the bed, saw how pale I was, and sighed.

"Dora, don't take it to heart. Fate is set by heaven. It's just that you and that child weren't meant to be mother and son."

"Yoli was afraid you'd be heartbroken. She rushed straight here to see you, and she only just gave birth herself."

What a fine thing, fate set by heaven.

As if last night had nothing to do with him at all.

I lifted my eyes, my voice calm.

"It isn't that we weren't meant to be. It's that his father wouldn't let him be born, and smothered him."

Before he could speak, Yolanda started to sob.

"Ma'am, please don't blame Mr. Sanchez. It's all because my family isn't good enough, because I can't marry him. That's why he wanted me to have an heir, so he'd have someone to lean on one day."

"If you're truly furious, I can pay for your child with my own life. I only pity my son. Barely born, and already losing his mother"

Andrew wiped her tears away, aching for her.

"Don't talk nonsense. We agreed we'd watch our son grow up together, help him find a wife and start a family."

When he turned back to me, his tone had cooled.

"Dora Henson, your own child wasn't strong enough to hang on. It couldn't even stay in your belly a little longer. Who is there to blame for that?"

"I already made you Mrs. Sanchez. Even though you can't have children now, I never planned to divorce you and marry someone else. I even thought I'd have Yoli's son call you godmother down the line, to make up for the child you lost."

"But instead of appreciating my good intentions, you throw this bitter, sneering attitude at me. Is this the grace a wife is supposed to have? Go and take a good, hard look at yourself!"

Appreciate his intentions. Again.

The first time I caught him in bed with another woman, he said he'd been drugged, that he hadn't meant it.

Keeping her as a mistress was only to do right by her, he said, and I should understand.

And so there was a second time, and a third

Later he openly took Yolanda to every gala and hotel, until the gossip reporters camped outside the old house day after day.

The old Mrs. Sanchez blamed me for being useless.

And he nuzzled against my neck, wheedling, wearing me down.

"Don't you think Yoli looks a little like you did when you were young?"

"I honestly haven't felt my heart move like this in so long. Please understand, my dear wife. Help me deal with the reporters and Mother."

Andrew left with Yolanda.

As if afraid she might tire herself, he swept her up into his arms and carried her.

Yolanda shot me a glance and said, shyly:

"Mr. Sanchez, there are still reporters out there. It's so humiliating for Mrs. Sanchez. Put me down"

Andrew's steps paused for a beat, and he let out a low laugh.

"Then let them take their pictures. I treat the woman I love well. What is anyone else's dignity worth?"

Faced with that deliberate little jab, I didn't cry, and I didn't make a scene.

I walked straight into the gossip reporters' cameras and went back to the Sanchez house.

I went to the old Mrs. Sanchez's room.

"You once promised my father that as long as he helped Andrew take the company, I could leave whenever I wanted a divorce."

"Now, please keep your word."

2: 2

My father had been one of the founding elders of Sanchez Group.

It was fair to say he'd built the company at old Mr. Sanchez's side, and his standing carried real weight.

Back when Andrew was fighting the other illegitimate sons for the position of heir, the old Mrs. Sanchez brought him to our door with a marriage proposal but the real aim was to win my father over.

At first my father refused.

He said I was quiet and simple by nature, not suited to the tangle of a wealthy family.

It was Andrew who knelt on the floor and swore that, whether or not he succeeded, he would never betray me.

He and I had grown up together, more or less.

When he saw me flush and lower my head, my father understood everything, and he threw all his weight behind putting Andrew in the president's chair.

Before the wedding, he called me into his study and looked at me with a tenderness that had no bottom to it.

"Dora, you're still young. You don't understand how money and power can change a person's heart."

"If the day comes when you want to leave him, go to the old Mrs. Sanchez. I'm getting old, sweetheart. I can't shield you for long. All I ask is that before I die, I can leave my treasure a way out."

At the time I naively thought my father was worrying over nothing.

I never imagined his words would come true to the letter.

Andrew knew none of this.

Thankfully, the old Mrs. Sanchez still honored the debt she owed my father, and she promised to place the divorce papers in my hands seven days later.

That day, Andrew would be throwing a banquet for Yolanda and her son, announcing that Sanchez Group had an heir at last.

My leaving wouldn't draw a single glance.

The baby had died in the womb; by rights he would have been buried quietly and forgotten.

Maybe out of guilt, the old Mrs. Sanchez broke with custom and held a small funeral for my child, laying him to rest in the Sanchez family plot.

By tradition, the body was to lie in the funeral home for three days.

Andrew didn't show his face once.

He was too busy buying Yolanda jewelry and houses, hiring the best nutritionist money could find, living grander than me, his own wife.

Too busy naming their son himself Grant, a name that meant a treasure held dear by his parents.

Yet when his assistant asked what should be carved on my child's headstone, he frowned in irritation.

"It was a useless burden to begin with, and now it's troubling my elders and wasting their time. No sense at all."

"Just call it 'Loathe.'"

As if he were afraid the world might not know how thoroughly its father despised it.

The old Mrs. Sanchez overheard, scolded him for behaving so shamefully, and took it upon herself to change the child's name to 'Remember.'

A small attempt to make things right by me.

But she wasn't the one who owed me anything.

That night Yolanda came to the funeral home, glowing with satisfaction.

"You lost the baby, ma'am, and you're grieving. I really didn't want to intrude."

"But Mr. Sanchez is throwing a banquet for us in a few days, and I'm still short a few pink diamonds to go with my evening gown."

I looked at my son's memorial tablet and spoke quietly.

"Then you should go to a jeweler, not come to me."

Yolanda's smile deepened.

"Listen to you, ma'am. Fine pink diamonds aren't exactly cabbages at the market. Never mind a jewelry store you might not even find them at an ordinary auction."

"Mr. Sanchez said you already had some, and told me to come ask you for them. You wouldn't say no, would you, ma'am?"

I went still for a moment, then dropped my eyes to the bracelet on my wrist.

Each pink diamond had been cut into the shape of a cherry blossom, glinting under the cold light.

Andrew had given it to me when we got engaged.

Back then a video was going around online, called wear the blossom in this life, be beautiful in the next.

I'd loved soft pink cherry blossoms since I was a child, so I told him, if you can make me a bracelet out of cherry blossoms, I'll marry you.

It was really just a joke, since cherry-blossom season was long over by then.

But the very next day Andrew flew abroad to an auction and spent almost everything he had at the time to win twelve rare pink diamonds, then cut them into cherry blossoms with his own hands and made them into a bracelet.

When he gave it to me, his smile was foolish with happiness.

"Dora, I'm not marrying you to become the heir. I've been in love with you for twelve years. I really do love you."

"Flowers always wither, but my love for you is like these cherry-blossom diamonds. It will never fade, never fall."

Now he wanted to hand that love to someone else.

My voice stayed even.

"He bought it. He can give it to whoever he likes."

Before I could take it off myself, Yolanda flicked a glance at the bodyguards behind her.

They seized my wrist and yanked the bracelet clean off.

The chain had been made strong; when it snapped, it cut a line of blood into the bone of my wrist.

Yolanda covered her mouth with feigned apology.

"Oh dear, ma'am, these men are the new ones Mr. Sanchez sent to protect me. They don't know their own strength. You mustn't be upset now."

The pink diamonds were pried out one by one, and the broken chain was dropped at my feet.

I stared down at it.

Seeing that, Yolanda gave a smile heavy with meaning.

"This morning I asked Mr. Sanchez whether he liked cherry blossoms better or roses. Care to guess what he said, ma'am? He said, bringing up something past its prime only brings bad luck."

"So you see, ma'am, you're just like this cherry-blossom bracelet. No matter how lifelike it looks on the outside, it can't change the fact that it's past its prime."

One of the bodyguards took a call: Andrew knew Yolanda loved roses.

He had already bought her an estate abroad that grew nothing but Bulgarian roses.

It came with greenhouses, so that the freshest roses could be flown to Yolanda year-round, in every season anything, as long as it made her happy.

So it turned out you only needed a comparison to see whether a man truly cared for you or was only going through the motions.

Yes, the pink diamonds were beautiful. So beautiful they made me forget.

From the very start, they had been fake.

3: 3

On the day we buried the child, the old Mrs. Sanchez told Andrew to go with me.

To do his part as the father, and to shut the gossip reporters up.

Andrew agreed to her face. But the hearse had barely cleared the outskirts of the city when he got out.

"Dora, there's an auction in New York today. One of the pieces is an old jade of very fine quality. I want to bid on it as a protective charm for Yoli's child."

"Go to the cemetery on your own."

His assistant had already brought the car around. Yolanda sat in the back, polished and radiant.

I looked toward the paparazzi not far off, and held the urn tighter against me.

"But what's inside this is your son too."

He paused, then knit his brows, impatient.

"Why do you keep holding up the dead against the living? You act like my going to bury him would bring him back to life. It's a pure waste of time."

"Besides, Yoli hasn't been back to see her own family in a month. I need to be there for her. As Mrs. Sanchez, you should be gracious and understanding. Don't nickel-and-dime over something this small."

A month. The way he said it, you'd think it was two lifetimes.

I thought of the time my father was gravely ill, when I wanted to go home to see him.

Andrew had said:

"People get old, and who doesn't come down with an ache or a fever now and then? There's so much to manage at home, and Yoli's caught a cold. If you leave, who's going to look after her?"

"And Yoli's been dreaming about her father who died young. She's grieving right now. If she found out you still have a father to visit, she'd only feel worse. Wait until she's in better spirits."

I waited a full three months. Yolanda's spirits never lifted.

What came instead was word that my father had died.

The relatives back home said he couldn't stop worrying about me. He held on to that last breath the whole time, wanting to see me one last time.

He died with his eyes open.

"Andrew, if you leave, we get divorced."

It was the first time I'd ever called him by his name.

Surprise rose in his eyes.

It turned to fury fast enough.

"Dora, you're threatening me? It's just burying a handful of ashes. You're a grown woman, and you have to fight me over something this petty?"

"Your parents are both dead. You're the only one left in your family. You don't even have a job. Who else do you have to lean on besides me?"

"You married into the Sanchez family. As long as I don't nod, you'll be a Sanchez ghost even in death. Don't try that play-hard-to-get game with me."

I watched him climb into Yolanda's car and slam the door hard enough to shake the air.

So he'd finally said it out loud. This was what made him grow more shameless by the day.

He'd decided I had no home to go back to, no work, no way to leave the Sanchez family or leave him.

So the death of my child was just a small thing too.

Andrew had paid the paparazzi off long before to keep quiet, but the photos still made it online.

The president of Sanchez Group, on the day of his son's funeral, getting out halfway to escort his kept woman to an auction.

It hit the company's reputation hard, and the stock felt the blow.

Shareholders called one after another to voice their anger to the old Mrs. Sanchez.

The old woman was livid. That same day she went straight to the villa Andrew had bought for Yolanda and tore into her.

Word was she cried her eyes out.

So no sooner had I gotten home than Andrew kicked open my door and struck me across the face.

"So I didn't go to the cemetery with you. Was it worth spreading rumors on purpose, egging Mother on to go after Yoli?"

"Yoli's eyes are swollen from crying. She's barely past her recovery. Do you have any idea how much this hurts her body? How can you be so vicious?"

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and let out a faint laugh.

"I only gave birth three days ago. That didn't stop you from hitting me first and asking questions never, did it, Mr. Sanchez?"

"Yolanda knew perfectly well what day it was, yet she couldn't keep her place. She paraded around, dragged the company down. She should have thought about the consequences."

Andrew hadn't expected me to talk back. His anger tipped over into a laugh.

"Everyone there was on my payroll. Besides you, who would have dared do it? What innocent act are you putting on now?"

"Fine. You think Yoli's the one at fault? Then you, as Mrs. Sanchez, can't even keep a kept woman in line. That's an even worse failure of your duty."

"I'm moving Yoli into the Sanchez home for good. From now on, she has the say over everything in this house. Now get out to the old estate and kneel for a full six hours, until the shareholders' anger dies down."

Outside, a spring rain had started. The ground was hard and cold and wet.

My knees ached until they went numb, the chill boring straight into the seams of my bones.

Butler Lawrence couldn't bear it. He held an umbrella over me and sighed.

"Master Andrew's gone a bit far. He didn't used to treat you like this..."

He hadn't. Once, he'd fussed that even the wooden benches were too cold and hard when he took me to the park to clear my head.

A man who kept a blanket in the car at all times, wherever we went.

That man had been gone a long time.

The other kept women came to the old estate to curry favor with Yolanda, and their eyes mocked me when they passed.

If even the first wife had been pushed aside this far, it evened the scales in their own minds.

I knelt there without expression.

Let them look. Let them laugh.

Either way, I'd be free soon enough.

4: 4

The night of the banquet came fast.

To show how much Yolanda and her son mattered to him, Andrew held it at the old estate.

An hour before it started, the butler came looking for me.

"Young Mrs. Sanchez, the little golden Buddha the old Mrs. Sanchez has kept enshrined for years has gone missing. Mr. Sanchez asks you to come at once."

My stomach dropped.

That golden Buddha was the Sanchez heirloom, an artifact close to a thousand years old.

They said everything the family had today, it owed to the Buddha's protection.

A priceless heirloom gone missing was no small matter.

By the time I reached the family shrine, Edith's face was, as I expected, dark as still water.

"Yolanda, you've barely taken over the estate and already a disaster like this breaks out. If the family elders hear of it, are you trying to drag me down with you and make me the sinner of the Sanchez name?!"

"Find the Buddha this instant. Otherwise I'll have no choice but to invoke family discipline, break both your hands, and hand you over to the police. Only then can I answer to our ancestors and the elders!"

Yolanda dabbed at her eyes, playing the wronged one.

"Ma'am, I'm being blamed for nothing. I've been so busy preparing the family banquet lately, I couldn't manage everything, so I asked Mrs. Sanchez to look after the shrine for me."

"I have no idea how the Buddha could have gone missing..."

I gave a cold laugh.

"So Miss Croft wants to pass the blame? You say you handed it off to me. Do you have proof?"

She had no answer. Then Andrew suddenly spoke up.

"Of course there's proof. I'm the witness."

"Mother, I heard it with my own ears. Yoli asked Dora to take over watching the shrine for her."

I stared at him, unable to believe it.

I could not, for the life of me, believe he would frame me for Yolanda's sake.

Andrew went on.

"Mother, ever since Dora lost the child, her mind wanders. She's probably just forgotten."

"Let me help her remember."

He pulled me out the door and lowered his voice.

"Dora, it's Yoli's first time running the family banquet. She has no experience. A slip or two is only natural."

"By now the thief is long gone. She's terrified of pain, she couldn't survive having her hands broken and going to prison. Take it for her."

I looked at him, blank, my whole heart soaking in something bitter.

"But Andrew, I'm afraid of pain too..."

Andrew pressed his lips together and frowned.

"Yoli cares about how she looks, and now she's given us an heir. All those kept women who envy her, who knows how they'd laugh at her. She wouldn't be able to go on living. You've always had an even temper. You won't mind these things."

"I promise you, I'll find the best doctor to set your bones. Once Mother's anger cools, I'll get you out. And the seat as Mrs. Sanchez will still be there, kept for you."

"Dora, you're my wife. Sharing your husband's troubles is your duty. Be good and listen to me, all right?"

I wanted so badly to tell him: that's not it.

It was never that I had an even temper. It was that no one had ever cared what I thought.

Just like now.

I drew a deep breath. "All right."

Only then did Andrew smile. "That's my wife, always so sensible."

Back inside, I turned to Edith.

"I ask to be disciplined in my own room. Let me keep the last bit of my dignity."

Edith met my eyes for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Very well. The banquet is about to begin, and it won't do to keep the guests waiting. Andrew, all of you go ahead."

Once we were in my room, Edith watched me closely.

"Dora, I did agree to send you away. But if the Buddha's disappearance truly has anything to do with you, I won't show you any mercy either."

I nodded.

"I swear to you, I did not do this. And I know where the Buddha is."

"Then show me the proof."

The words had barely left me when Butler Lawrence came in and murmured a few things in her ear.

Inch by inch Edith's face darkened, and she laughed coldly, again and again.

"She has some nerve."

When she looked at me again, her expression had softened.

"Dora, you've been wronged. You're innocent. The divorce papers have already gone through. I'll send someone to take you away right now."

Before I left, I slipped the diamond ring off my finger.

I asked Edith to return it to Andrew for me.

Andrew, you and I will never see each other again.

...

Out in the Sanchez courtyard, Yolanda stood radiant, the child in her arms.

She moved beside Andrew, toasting the guests.

Then Edith appeared out of nowhere with several bodyguards and pointed at her, cold.

"Seize this cheap creature who stole the Buddha and then cried thief. Hand her over to the police!"

The scene erupted into chaos.

Yolanda turned to Andrew, terrified.

"Mr. Sanchez, I really didn't!"

Andrew quickly pulled her behind him, displeasure crossing his face.

"Mother, didn't I already tell you Yoli is innocent?"

"Has Dora been filling your head with nonsense again? She really never learns. Butler Lawrence, bring her here to me!"

The words had barely landed when everyone saw the smoke pouring from my room, flames leaping into the sky.

Butler Lawrence ran over, his face white.

"Mr. Sanchez, something's happened!"

"The young mistress said she'd rather die than suffer the disgrace of having her hands broken and going to prison for a crime that wasn't hers. She set the fire and took her own life!"