You Married Another, I Became a Gold-Digger—Why Cry After I Left

When he was eighteen, all it took was one line from Damian's mother.

The mistress you picked is a pretty one.

And Damian cut ties with his family for three years.

The year I turned twenty-eight, Damian was riding with me on the way to a prenatal checkup.

When he got a video call from Doreen Fox, a senior executive at the company.

She had let herself into my home with a key.

Every gift Damian had ever given me,

she handed over to the pawnshop, one by one.

The Cartier wedding ringfake.

The Chanel and LV bagsfake too.

"Miss Winfield, Damian and I are getting married. From now on, you had better be clear about your place."

Damian quietly hung up the phone.

I thought he would panic, that he would explain.

But he only silently pulled out our marriage certificate.

And tore it up.

"I'm sorry. The key was mine to give, and this marriage certificate is fake too."

"My wedding with Doreen is next week. I wanted to keep it from you, but I ended up making her angry."

I accepted it calmly.

And a flash of shock crossed his guilt-filled eyes.

He said hoarsely,

"I'll make it up to you. Down on the southern coast, we don't shortchange a mistress."

What Damian didn't know

was that from the moment Doreen called him,

he could marry his mistress, and I would play my part as the gold digger.

Retreat to advanceit's a move I'll use now, and I won't go soft again.

I turned my head to look out the window, my mind blank from the sudden upheaval.

I said nothing.

To stay calm, and to freeze Damian out on purpose.

An awkward silence settled over us.

After a moment,

he gently squeezed my pinky.

"Are you angry?"

I didn't answer.

Damian leaned in a little closer.

"Even after I marry Doreen, I'll still be good to you."

"That big river-view apartment in the downtown financial district."

"The three buildings in the tech park."

"And those four factories out in Riverton."

"They can all be put in your nameas compensation, and as security."

He was absurdly close to me.

His warm breath fell against my collarbone as he spoke,

and my heart pounded.

Not because I was moved.

Because I was furious.

These assets were what he and I had earned building the company together.

There was blood in them, coughed up over drinks poured for clients.

There were the two children I'd miscarried from exhaustion.

There were six whole years of my youth.

He was handing me my own things.

Calling it compensation, calling it security.

"Why won't you say anything?"

He turned my shoulder,

forcing me to face him.

"You got angry because I called you mistress."

Damian knew perfectly well.

The word "mistress" ground my true heart and my dignity into the dust.

At eighteen, he had nothing,

yet he fought to the bitter end for me.

At twenty-eight, he had everything,

and he chose to sacrifice me for more.

"A match arranged by the go-betweens, my parents' commandI was born to a mistress myself."

He paused, a trace of red rimming his eyes.

"It was already hard enough for my mother to accept me."

"If I do as they say about the marriage, I can fight for a share of the family fortune. I'm doing this for our child too."

The driver hit the brakes.

I fell into Damian's arms.

The car had stopped at the hospital entrance.

There was a strong woman's perfume on his chest.

But I never wear perfume.

I looked up and saw his deep, furrowed brow.

I jerked his hand away from me.

Head down.

"I hate you now."

"You hate meso why are you blushing?"

My face was red from anger.

But to fake being heartbroken,

I forced out a few tears.

Damian panicked a little and cupped my face.

"Why are you crying?"

"Doreen and I are just going through the motions. It's a family arrangement. It hurts me too that I can't be with you."

"I won't make you a mistress forever. Once I have the family businesses in my grip, we'll really get married."

"It's only a name for it..."

Damian coaxed me in a soft, gentle voice,

carefully helping me down from the car.

But the moment my feet touched the ground,

his phone rang, and the coaxing stopped.

He jabbed hard at the screen.

He stood there wrestling with himself for a long moment, then said,

"Doreen wants bubble tea, so I have to go stand in line at that new trendy place in the West End."

"You're not far alongcan you get through the rest of the checkup on your own?"

Damian was asking me.

But the hand at the small of my back had already loosened.

He said Doreen was just an act, that his real feelings were for me.

And yet Doreen's bubble tea

mattered more to him than my prenatal checkup.

"You and her really are just an act?"

"Mm."

"You won't change your heart, right?"

"Mm."

"I understand. I'll be good."

My answer came out with a sob in it.

I played the considerate, easily-soothed part.

"I'll wait for you and take good care of our child. You should be happy too, okay?"

Damian's hand, stroking my hair, went still.

He pressed his lips together.

He leaned to my ear and said with guilt,

"This was originally meant for Doreen. Really. I've wronged you."

He pressed a ring into my palm and hurried off.

The moment Damian was gone,

my tears stopped.

I held the ring and recognized itthe headline piece from last week's top luxury auction house.

So I put away the heartbroken, forced-brave little-white-flower expression.

Sad? I was faking it.

Damian knew exactly what he was doing and played dumb,

trampling my youth, my true heart, my feelings.

So I would use the last scrap of guilt he had left.

A tiny ring.

This wasn't the big outcome I wanted.

I dug up the email from three years ago, when the rival firm had tried to poach me.

And I added the contact for the person in charge.

Just then, my number was called for the checkup.

"This baby is very healthy."

"I'm having an abortion today."

The doctor and I spoke at the same time.

The two of us stared at each other in surprise, stunned for a moment.

In ten years I had never once changed my prenatal doctor.

He knew better than anyone.

Just how hard-won this third child was.

"I remember you and your husband are so devoted. He always comes with you to your checkups."

"Are you sure you want to do this? Your husband even had me checking"

"I'm sure."

The moment Damian came up, even my last hesitation was gone.

He was born to a mistress.

From childhood he suffered beatings and cold stares.

Even to see his own mother one last time before she died.

He had to beg and plead with the first wife.

The same suffering.

How could I bear to let my own child go through it a second time?

Lying on the cold operating table.

The doctor's scalpel went into me.

Damian's texts buzzed until my hands went numb.

Babe, I've taken care of the doctor. Don't forget to ask the gender.

If it's a girl, would you think about getting rid of it?

It's not that I don't want it, it's just that Mom wants a boy, and I'm afraid you'll get pushed out.

A sharp pain tore through my body.

The baby was gone.

But my heart felt lighter.

I paid the doctor a sum to keep quiet.

And sent Damian a cutesy sticker.

Mm-hmm, I know my husband only wants what's best for me.

The doctor said it's a boy.

Watching him excitedly bombard me with all kinds of stickers.

I finally realized.

Damian had changed completely.

He once said his greatest wish was to give me and our child a normal family.

"Boy or girl, both are my treasure."

"The people I hate most are those old-fashioned ones."

He had become the very thing he once hated.

I pulled out the IV line.

And went home alone.

I pushed open the door.

The tidy home Damian and I once shared had become an utter mess.

A woman's high heels were scattered all over the floor.

On the coffee table in the living room sat a half-finished cup of trendy bubble tea.

This apartment.

It was the wedding home Damian and I bought with our first pot of gold.

And now.

The marriage certificate was fake.

And Damian had brought another woman into the wedding home too.

My lower belly ached and cramped after the miscarriage.

I circled through the apartment and couldn't find anyone.

I wanted to rest in the master bedroom.

But I found the master bedroom locked.

I could even hear a man's and a woman's heavy breathing tangled together inside.

They were talking:

"Go easy, don't hurt the baby."

"Okay, I'll be gentle."

"I heard your family is very traditional. If the gender's wrong, do you need me to"

"No need. Abortions damage the body. The son Candice Winfield gives birth to, I'll hand over for you to raise. It's the same thing."

Damian still didn't care about the gender.

Only.

The person he'd overlook the child's gender for was no longer me.

One light, careless line from him.

And I had become Doreen Fox's breeding tool.

Before, I would have been sad and furious beyond words.

But now I was strangely calm.

I even pulled out my hand and first replied to the rival firm's partnership message.

I'd sold all my shares.

Joined the rival firm's board of directors.

Confirmed that next week, on Damian's wedding day.

I would drop in on the rival firm's North American branch.

Only once all of this was done.

Did I take a deep breath.

I pressed down hard on the locked door handle.

Then, faking a breakdown, I pounded wildly on the door.

"Damian, could you open the door for me?"

"You're sleeping, right? There's no way you'd be with someone else"

The room went instantly silent.

I let myself collapse to the floor.

Sniffling, imitating the sound of someone sobbing until she was worn out.

Just as expected.

After a little while, the door opened.

Damian scooped me up in one motion.

"Doreen and I aren't with anyone else."

Inside, I sneered.

But I rested my chin on Damian's shoulder.

My eyes stayed fixed on Doreen on the bed.

I tilted my head and, right in front of her, provocatively kissed the hickey she'd left.

And whined pitifully:

"But your son and I missed you so much."

A flicker of feeling crossed Damian's annoyed, interrupted expression despite himself.

He gently pushed me out the door.

"Stop it. Things like thisyou're the mistress, you have to learn to get used to it."

"I'm not making a scene! I just wanted"

I grabbed the hem of Damian's shirt, tears falling:

"I just wanted you to say you love me most."

"I'm so easy to please."

Damian gave in helplessly.

After the door closed.

I rubbed the corners of my mouth, stiff from crying.

Damian had just transferred ten million into my bank account.

Candice, you and our son have had it hard. Here's the Henson family's rent for the year. Use it to buy yourself and the child some nicer things.

I lifted my hand and replied:

Thank you, honey. You're the best, Damian. I'll go make you and Doreen some dessert now. Take your time.

Inside, because Damian had said he loved me most, Doreen.

Got into a huge fight with him.

"Doreen, that was just something I say to smooth things over. Can't you have a little sense?"

"You want me to have sense? Damian, have you forgotten who holds the cards here?"

"If your elder brother hadn't died unexpectedly, would I ever have married someone born to a mistress like you, just for the Hensons' sake?"

Just as I'd predicted, a rift had grown between them.

And I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

You have to reel someone in slowly; rush it, and the money's gone.

The more lovesick I acted.

The more Damian and the Hensons would let their guard down around me.

A mere diamond ring and ten million.

Wasn't the big prize I was after.

I made apricot punch.

This was my own home.

Yet I could only sit in the guest room and wait for Damian.

I let my eyes drift over the dust that had already settled across the room.

If I didn't fight back, this endless, hopeless life

would be the rest of my life.

Because of his argument with Doreen, Damian didn't keep me waiting long.

He came in rubbing his brow, and I carried the bowl of apricot punch over to him.

"Damian, have I put you in a hard spot?"

"I'm sorry. It might be because I'm carrying a son. The hormones make it hard for me to control my emotions. I got carried away."

Damian went quiet, and his gaze softened, softer and softer.

He took a sip of the apricot punch and pulled me into his arms.

He said gently,

"How could this be your fault? Doreen was the one with no sense of limits."

"It's so kind of you to make me apricot punch this late. Have some yourself."

The apricot punch was a dessert I'd chosen on purpose.

He picked it up and tried to press it into my hand.

But I looked almost angry enough to cry.

I gave his chest a light little punch.

"I remember that you love apricots. But you don't even remember that I'm allergic to them."

"No, I do care about you, I've just been so busy..."

Damian was visibly flustered.

I pretended to understand and kissed his cheek.

"As long as you care about me, that's enough. I forgive you."

Damian felt even guiltier. He carried me to the bed, his voice low and thick.

"Candice, you're so thoughtful. Without you, I wouldn't know what to do."

"Silly, how could I ever leave you?"

And with that, I slipped a contract into his hand.

"You're busy with the marriage alliance right now, so you can hand all of our own company's affairs to me and not worry about a thing."

Damian signed without hesitation.

He couldn't hide his anticipation; his mind had already drifted elsewhere.

"We're finally going to have a child."

His hand gently reached toward my already flat stomach.

As if just a few hours ago,

he hadn't been the one who made me get the abortion.

He murmured to himself, lost over the son who didn't exist.

"There's a son now."

"Then those elders will have no reason to challenge my right of succession."

"So what if I was born to a mistress? The Henson family is still mine."

He pressed down and accidentally bore against the wound from my surgery.

I couldn't help crying out in pain.

Which still stirred his suspicion.

"Candice, the baby's all right, isn't it? I only touched you a little. Why did you react so strongly?"

"Am I imagining things? Why is your stomach so flat?"

Damian still wanted to reach out.

Enduring the pain, I gripped his wrist.

"It's early, so it doesn't show yet."

"The doctor prescribed some medicated patches to protect the pregnancy. You'd better not touch them for now."

"They're just patches. Why can't I touch them?"

Damian's expression turned cold.

He was about to say something more.

Then came Doreen pounding on the door, shouting furiously,

"Candice Winfield, you're not even married and you're already stealing him right out in the open! You just wait."

"And you, Damian"

I pushed Damian toward the door.

And said, aggrieved,

"I was worried that if you stayed too long, Doreen would be upset, and here you are snapping at me."

"I just didn't want to make things hard for my baby's father."

Damian was stunned.

He was gone a long time, then transferred another sum of money to my bank card.

Twenty million.

I took every cent.

But the real main event

was still the contract I'd conned Damian into signing.

I was getting closer and closer to the final outcome.

So close that, for a moment, I got careless.

It wasn't until I went to the company the next morning

that I finally understood what Doreen meant by "wait."

The moment I walked through the company doors.

I could feel several pairs of eyes glued to me.

Coworkers whispered among themselves:

"No wonder she made executive so fast. Turns out she got the position by seducing the boss."

"Manager Fox is so pitiful. Mr. Henson is her fianc, isn't he?"

Once, I believed Damian Henson and I were a real married couple.

For the sake of running the company better and keeping tabs on the talk inside it.

In this company the two of us founded.

We had never announced our relationship.

He held the real power, out in the open.

I held the equity, in the shadows.

I looked at the overturned desk.

And at the giant word "mistress" scrawled across it in red ink.

The ache in my heart was even greater than my anger.

This was what I got for trusting Damian Henson.

For pouring my heart and soul into the fight at his side.

Still, thankfully.

I had already become a gold digger who only wanted the big payout.

Facing Doreen Fox, who stepped out of the crowd, smug and self-satisfied.

I said calmly:

"I am not a mistress."

To press her accusation.

Doreen strode forward, worked up.

Carelessly, she kicked a picture frame on the floor and sent it flying.

The old photo tore in two.

It was the only picture I had of me and my parents.

My parents had fallen in love against their families' wishes.

When I was three, to keep from being pulled apart.

They chose to run away with me.

A car crash on the highway left me an orphan.

The reason I got together with Damian Henson.

Was only for the courage he'd shown, for my sake.

To cut ties with all that rot.

But now, Damian Henson had changed.

And the only keepsake my parents left me was destroyed along with it.

For the sake of my big payout.

I had put on a lot of acts.

I should not have cared much about being branded a "mistress."

But now, I suddenly wanted to make a point of it.

"Candice Winfield, have you no shame? If a kept woman isn't a mistress, then what is"

I cut her off calmly.

"Manager Fox, from what I understand, a 'kept woman' refers to a concubine that both husband and wife once acknowledged along the southern coasta feudal custom that persecutes women."

"Are you saying that in modern society, a marriage alliance between the Foxes and the Hensons is still carrying on such a woman-devouring tradition?"

My being the mistress.

Had been settled before the Fox and Henson families sealed their marriage alliance.

I knew what Doreen was thinking.

She didn't actually want to drive me out.

After all, she was still counting on me to bear her a son.

She only wanted to win back the face she'd lost yesterday.

But now, Doreen herself realized how filthy the arrangement between the two families was, too shameful to say aloud.

She could only stammer and explain that she'd misspoken.

The standoff dragged on for a moment.

Just then a familiar voice spoke up:

"As his mother, surely a few words from me carry enough weight."

"Candice Winfield, Damian already has a fiance. If you have any dignity, stop tangling yourself up with him."

Damian Henson's mother quietly came up to my side.

And, in a voice only I could hear, drove her point in:

"Doreen came to me to complain."

"Since you and Damian are so devoted, so dead set on being our family's mistress."

"I don't care how capable and formidable you are out therein my house, even a dragon has to lie coiled."

Then she slapped a sheet of paper down in front of me.

And said, in a voice everyone could hear:

"Thirty million. Leave my son."

If she had actually meant to give it, I might have agreed.

But that contract plainly stated.

That I was to become the legal representative of Henson Group.

And to transfer, free of charge, all shares of the company under my name.

This was the most common tactic used against a mistress along the southern coast.

Strip her of her career and her rights.

Saddle her with the debts and liabilities of her husband's company.

That way, even without a marriage certificate.

A mistress could be turned into a mule pulling the millstone for the rest of her life.

If I signed.

My big payout and my whole life would be finished.

All around me was rustling, my coworkers condemning me for not knowing what was good for me.

Hearing the uproar, Damian Henson came out of his office.

Once he understood the whole story.

He silently placed me behind him, looking somewhat troubled:

"Mom, Candice is still carrying our son. If she doesn't want to sign, let it go."

"So what if she's carrying a son? When your own mother was pregnant with you, she still knelt and washed my feet."

"The Henson family, the Fox family, and Candice Winfieldyou can only choose one."

Damian Henson's face went ghastly white in an instant.

And in the end he still stepped aside.

Abandoned by Damian Henson once again.

I could no longer summon even a flicker of feeling.

On my face I still managed a pleasing smile.

The very picture of a lovesick fool:

"Damian, I'll sign. I don't want you caught in a hard spot because of me."

"The baby needs rest. Handing over control is fine too. Don't blame yourself."

Seeing how deeply my understanding moved him.

I added softly:

"Mom, Doreen, I notice this contract forgot to have me give up the legal representative status of my original company."

"Shall I add it in?"

The two of them, mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, were chatting away and agreed without even glancing at it.

A blessing in disguiseI fought down my smile.

And, all reluctance, urged Damian Henson:

"Next week, before your wedding with Doreen, don't come looking for me."

"She's jealous, and I understand your difficulties and the position you're in."

"Ten years togetherwe won't miss these few days."

He praised me for being virtuous and considerate, when really I was just afraid someone would get in the way of my getaway.

He told me to wait for him at home with our son in my belly.

Little did he know the child he was longing for had long since become a clot of blood.

To comfort me, Damian Henson.

Wired a full year's rent from all the Henson family businesses into my card.

This parting gift toward my big payout, I liked very much.

Along the southern coast, wedding banquets run over two days.

Only after the previous day's feast, and the exchange of betrothal gifts and bridal gifts.

Comes the fetching of the bride the next day.

By the time Damian Henson held the first banquet.

I was already on the plane to New York.

When the Henson family was preparing to exchange the betrothal gifts.

Damian Henson's mother hurriedly pulled him into a corner.

"Henson Group made a big investment a few days ago. All the liquid capital is tied up in it for now."

"For the betrothal gifts, use the rent money first, and scrape together whatever you have from your own company."

A chill ran down Damian Henson's back.

Suddenly he felt a wave of panic.

He texted methe guests were already questioning why the Hensons were so slow to exchange the betrothal gifts.

Candice, let me use that money I transferred you a while backjust an emergency. I'll pay you back in a few days.

Money? I don't have a single cent left. As for your wedding gift, that I do have.

And finally, thank you for the big payout you handed me.

Damian Henson's pupils dilated in an instant.

Cold sweat prickled.

?? You blew tens of millions? Candice Winfield, you're a goddamn gold digger

Before he could send the text.

He'd already been blocked.

His "mother" urged him to hurry up and wire the money.

The banquet doors suddenly swung open.

Four men carried in a large box.

"So you'd set aside cash after all. Damian, you're starting to handle things with some of your older brother's thoroughness now."

"Mom, it isn't cash, don't open it yet"

Damian Henson couldn't stop them; his mother had already thrown open the gift box in front of everyone.

A shrill scream tore through the hall.