When my husband’s mistress got pregnant, my entire in-law family told me to leave the house. I simply smiled and said one sentence – and all six of them were devastated. They apologized, but it was too late…
The Atlantic sea breeze blew onto the porch of Sterling Mansion in The Hamptons, carrying the salty taste and chill of early autumn. Inside, the fireplace burned, but the air around the dinner table was colder than ice.
I, Catherine, sat at the end of the table, my hand tracing the rim of my red wine glass. Around me were six members of my husband’s family: Richard (my husband), Evelyn (mother-in-law), Thomas (father-in-law), Sarah (sister-in-law), Mike (Sarah’s husband), and… Jessica.
Jessica was Richard’s personal secretary. She was 24, young, attractive, and sitting right next to my husband, her hand suggestively placed on her stomach.
This dinner was called a “family gathering,” but I knew it was a trial. And I was the defendant.
“Catherine,” Evelyn said, placing her knife and fork down on the porcelain plate with a jarring clang. She looked at me with the same disdainful gaze she’d given me for the past seven years – the gaze reserved for a daughter-in-law who was “not of equal social standing.” “We need to talk frankly. Jessica… she’s pregnant.”
I wasn’t surprised. I’d smelled Jessica’s cologne on Richard’s shirt since last month. I just took a sip of wine, silently waiting.
“It’s a boy,” Richard said, his voice excited but avoiding my gaze. He took Jessica’s hand. “The ultrasound’s done. The Sterling family finally has an heir.”
“And that leads to your problem, Catherine,” my father-in-law, Thomas, continued. His voice was deep and authoritative, the voice of a former real estate mogul. “You and Richard have been married for seven years without children. You’re a failed wife. This family needs an heir, and Jessica has done what you couldn’t.”
“So,” Sarah, my sharp-tongued sister-in-law, smirked. “The family has decided. You should know better than to leave. The divorce papers are already on the coffee table. Sign them and pack your bags. We need your room to make a nursery for the heir.”
I looked around. Six faces. Six people I had served, who had used my CFO salary to cover the family business’s losses for the past five years. Now, they looked at me like an expired item to be discarded to make room for a new “toy” named Jessica.
Chapter 2: Collective Cruelty
“You want me to leave tonight?” I asked, my voice calm.
“Yes,” Evelyn said coldly. “You no longer have the right to stay here. Jessica needs space to rest. Your presence is affecting the unborn child.”
“And don’t even think about claiming a share of the inheritance,” Mike, my lazy brother-in-law, chimed in. “Richard said you signed a prenuptial agreement. You’ll leave empty-handed.”
Jessica, who had been silently playing the innocent victim, now looked up at me with a triumphant glint in her eyes. She stroked her belly, whispering, “I’m sorry, Catherine. But love is not at fault. And this baby… it needs a father, and it needs this home.”
“This home,” I repeated the phrase.
Richard stood up, tossing a small travel suitcase toward me. “I’ve had someone pack your basic necessities in here. An Uber is waiting outside. Go, Catherine. Don’t make things difficult for us. You’re an outsider. Always an outsider.”
I stood up. The whole family breathed a sigh of relief. They thought I had accepted my fate. They thought I was a weak lamb before the power of the Sterling family.
I picked up the suitcase. I walked toward the front door. But before leaving, I turned back. I looked Richard straight in the eye, then swept my gaze across everyone.
I smiled. A radiant smile, sharp as a scalpel.
“I’m leaving, but before I go, I have something to say: Richard secretly had a vasectomy four years ago after treatment for testicular cancer, and this house and all the company shares were transferred to me as collateral for a debt last month.”
Chapter 3: The Collapse of Six Chess Pieces
Absolute silence fell. The sea breeze outside seemed to have stopped blowing.
Richard was the first to react. His face turned from rosy to deathly pale. He let go of Jessica’s hand as if she were a burning hot coal.
“W-what?” Richard stammered.
“You didn’t mishear, Richard,” I said softly. “Four years ago, when he had cancer surgery, the doctor warned of the risk of metastasis. He chose to have a vasectomy for safety and didn’t want children at the time. He hid it from his parents because of pride. He hid it from me. But did he forget that I hold the family’s health insurance records?”
I turned to Jessica. The mistress was trembling, her face pale.
“So, dear Jessica,” I tilted my head. “The baby in your belly… who’s the father? It certainly isn’t the ‘heir’ of the Sterling family. Is it Richard’s fitness trainer or his driver?”
“No! It can’t be!” Evelyn shrieked, clutching her chest. She glared at Jessica as if she wanted to devour her alive. “You… you tricked us? You said it was Richard’s child!”
Jessica recoiled, knocking over a chair: “I… I thought…”
“And the second part of the sentence,” I continued, not giving them time to breathe. I pulled a stack of legal documents from my bag.
“Mr.
“Mr. Thomas, do you remember that $10 million debt that nearly bankrupted our family company last month? You signed a document transferring ownership so that I—Catherine—could use my personal assets as collateral for a bank loan.”
Mr. Thomas trembled, sweating profusely: “I… I thought it was just a temporary procedure…”
“It was a procedure,” I nodded. “A procedure for transferring permanent ownership if the borrower breaches the contract. And your evicting me—the creditor and legal owner—from my house is a serious breach of the ‘Residence and Respect’ clause.”
I tossed the file onto the dining table.
“This house. The car Richard drives. The company shares. Everything is now in my name. Catherine Vance.” “Not Sterling.”
Chapter 4: A Late Apology
The room was in chaos.
Mike and Sarah – the freeloaders – began to cry. They knew that without the company’s (now mine) financial support, they would starve.
Richard rushed forward, knelt at my feet, and grabbed the hem of my dress.
“Catherine! My love! Listen to my explanation! I was tricked! That bitch Jessica tricked me! I swear I didn’t know! I love you! Don’t do this! Don’t kick me out!”
Mrs. Evelyn, who had just called me an “outsider,” now rushed forward, pushed Jessica to the floor, and turned to me with the most pathetic, pleading expression: “Catherine, my dear daughter-in-law. I was so foolish. I was blinded by my desire for grandchildren. You are my only daughter-in-law.” “I’ll kick this Jessica out immediately!”
Mr. Thomas slumped into his chair, clutching his head: “We’ve lost everything… We’ve lost everything…”
Jessica lay on the floor, screaming: “Richard, save me! You said you loved me!”
“Shut up!” Richard slapped Jessica hard. “You dared to cheat on me! You’re going to make me raise another man’s child?”
I watched the chaotic scene before me. A prestigious, proud family now tearing each other apart like wild beasts. And they were all looking at me as their last lifeline.
“Catherine,” Richard looked up, tears streaming down his face. “Forgive me. I’ll do anything. I’ll be your slave. Don’t kick my family out onto the street.” “My parents are getting old…”
Chapter 5: The Door Closes
I looked at Richard. I saw the man I once loved. But now, I only saw a coward, infertile, and stupid.
“You’re right about one thing,” I said, my voice cold as I cut through the sobs. “I’m an outsider. And outsiders have no obligation to support a bunch of parasites.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I’ll give you 30 minutes. Pack your personal belongings. Just clothes. Everything of value: paintings, jewelry, watches, cars… is considered collateral. If you take them, I’ll report you for theft.”
“Where are we going?” “Where are we going?” Sarah yelled.
“That’s none of my business,” I replied. “We could go to a motel, or stay at the baby’s father’s house.”
I pulled up the handle of my suitcase. But not to go outside. I headed toward the stairs leading to the master bedroom – the room they intended for Jessica.
“This is my house,” I called down. “And I want absolute silence for 30 minutes. If I see anyone after 30 minutes, I’ll call neighborhood security and the Sheriff to enforce it.”
I went up the stairs.
Behind me, the wailing, the cursing, the blaming—all of it sounded like a symphony of collapse.
Richard tried to run after me: “Catherine! Please!”
I turned around, looking at him one last time.
“Ah, Richard,” I smiled. “Thank you for the suitcase you packed for me.” “I’ll use it to hold all the rubbish memories of him and throw them away.”
I went into the room, closed the door, and locked it.
Through the window, I saw the Hamptons night still brilliantly beautiful.
Half an hour later, I saw six figures trudging out the gate, carrying black plastic bags of clothes (because I had kept all the Louis Vuitton suitcases). Jessica was last, roughly shoved by Richard.
They stood outside in the cold wind, looking back at the magnificent mansion one last time. The automatic iron gate slowly closed in front of them, obscuring the warm light inside.
They apologized. They begged. But when respect is dead, all apologies are just noise.
I poured myself a fresh glass of wine. The wine tonight tasted much better. It tasted of freedom and justice.
