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He Betrayed Me Nine Times But There Was No Tenth

Novelix Completed

追妻火葬场、家庭冲突、离婚、虐恋、替身/替代品、追悔莫及、背叛、出轨、情妇、前夫、大女主、第一人称视角、女性力量/大女主、现代/都市

Chapters (3)

第1章

For the ninth time, Julian admitted he'd slept with his business partner, Camille Duval—and once again blamed it on work. I didn't scream. I didn't demand to know how a man with near-clinical germaphobia could keep crawling into another woman's bed. I stopped demanding location-stamped selfies every thirty minutes. I even quietly removed the GPS tracker from his car. When he saw I wasn't making a scene, he pulled me close, voice soft. "Elena, I swear on everything I've built — there won't be a next time." At Thanksgiving dinner, watching him play the doting husband, my mother took my hand across the table. "Men like Julian have complicated lives. Business trips, late nights, people throwing themselves at them..." "But he comes home to you. He takes care of you. You're still his wife." My father nodded along. "Your mother's right. And you two should really think about trying for another baby." Julian said nothing. He just smiled and draped his arm around my shoulder. My five-year-old nephew Oliver chewed on his fork and blinked. "But Uncle Julian already has a baby." The laughter at the table died instantly. Before Julian could speak, Oliver went on in his piping little voice. "Last time Uncle Julian took me to Miss Camille's house, Grandma and Grandpa were there too." "He was holding that baby and smiling so, so much." "He said he finally had a son." ... Elena's POV Julian grabbed my hand under the table, certain I'd do what I always did — throw things, flip my plate, hurl whatever was in reach at his head. But this time, I didn't even lift my eyes. My parents leapt to their feet and ushered Oliver out of the room. "Kids say the darndest things — he's just making stuff up." Then I caught my mother shooting Julian a look. Julian cleared his throat and took my hand. "Elena, that's Camille's child." "Camille was having a small gathering for the baby. She asked me to be his godfather, and I agreed. That's all." He said it with conviction, but his palm was slick with sweat. "Kids can't tell the difference. It's perfectly normal for them to get confused. Don't read into it." I picked up a piece of turkey with my fork and put it in my mouth. I looked at him. Perfectly calm. Julian visibly faltered. He'd probably rehearsed his lines in advance, ready for the barrage of questions he expected. But all I said was: "The food was bland today. Let's use a different caterer next time." The hand holding mine clenched. "Elena, you're not going to ask me anything?" What was there to ask? His excuses were always the same. I was sick of hearing them. The first time he admitted to sleeping with Camille, I thought he was joking. It wasn't until I walked in on them in bed together that I lost my mind and lunged at them. In the chaos, Julian shoved me away. My forehead struck the corner of a table, and blood poured down my face. He didn't even glance at me. He just stood there shielding Camille behind him. The look he gave me — like I was something he wanted to destroy. Then it happened again. And again. I finally learned to choke it all down — every last drop of humiliation and disgust. And every time, as long as I accepted it quietly — He would make it up to me with jewelry, property, shares in the company. I once mistook these for guilt he couldn't help feeling. It wasn't until later that I understood. The guilt was for me. The love was for Camille. Sleeping with Camille under the guise of business was nothing but his excuse to betray me, time after time. And his germaphobia? Just a rule that only ever applied to me. Camille had given birth a few months ago. I already knew. But I'd been clinging to one pathetic hope — that maybe the child wasn't Julian's. Just then, his phone rang. The caller ID read: Camille. He declined it twice, but it kept buzzing. Julian frowned, then turned away to answer. Camille's broken sobbing came through from the other end. "Julian, the baby won't stop crying..." "Can you come be with us? Please?" After he hung up, Julian barely hesitated. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "Julian." I watched his back and called out to him, my voice steady. "Do you know what today is?" His footsteps stopped dead. "It's the anniversary of Ethan's death." In our second year of marriage, we'd had a child. But he died not long after he was born. During that time, I nearly didn't survive. It was Julian who pulled me back from the edge, again and again. To stay by my side, he even moved all his work home. No matter who mocked him for going soft, he only ever said,"Without Elena, my life has no meaning." Coming back to himself, Julian was silent for only two seconds before pressing down the door handle. "Elena, Ethan's been gone for years now. Let him rest in peace." And with that, he walked out without looking back. The moment the door closed, a single tear rolled from the corner of my eye. My phone screen blurred through my tears. I opened my contacts and found a number I'd been in touch with recently. It's confirmed. Arrange to have Ethan's ashes relocated to Sweden as soon as possible.

第2章

Elena's POV The reply came quickly — the paperwork would be expedited, and I'd be notified the moment everything was in order. I wiped my tears, stood up, and prepared to visit Ethan's grave. I'd barely reached the door when my parents blocked my way. My mother seized my arm. "Elena, where are you going?" She paused, her tone suddenly tight. "You're not going to cause trouble for Camille again, are you?" My feet stopped dead. The way she'd kept glancing at Julian during dinner — It all clicked at once. "Mom, did you already know?" Her eyes flickered away, but her grip on my arm didn't loosen. "Know what? You're always seeing things that aren't there." "Suspecting Julian wasn't enough — now you suspect your own parents?" I almost laughed. "You've known all along that Camille had Julian's baby, haven't you?" Her expression shifted, but she quickly dropped her voice. "Elena, look at the life Julian has given you. Doesn't that tell you where his priorities are?" "Besides, Julian has never changed toward you." My father frowned. "How many years has this been going on? Enough is enough." I looked at the two familiar faces before me and suddenly felt like I was staring at strangers. I had always believed that even if the whole world turned against me, my parents never would. But here they were, standing on the side of the man who'd been destroying me. "I'm going to see Ethan." A flash of pain crossed her eyes, quickly suppressed. "Ethan is gone. The living have to keep moving forward." "You can't spend the rest of your life holding on to a dead child." I stared at her. She seemed to decide she might as well say it all. "Yes, we've known about their child for a while." "But the baby's already born — what can anyone do about it?" "The child is innocent. You can't punish a baby for its father's sins." She looked at me. "You're a grown woman, Elena. You're his wife. Can't you show a little grace?" It was like a knife twisting between my ribs. I wanted to visit my own child — her grandson. And her first instinct was to worry I'd go make a scene with my husband's mistress. In the end, somehow I — the one who'd been betrayed — was the unreasonable one. I forced the fury down. "Mom, are you finished?" Without waiting for her answer, I walked straight out the door. By the time I reached the cemetery in Westchester, dusk had already fallen. I'd just arrived at the grave when a staff member hurried toward me. "Ms. Ashford, you're finally here." He gave me a polite nod. "Are you here to sign today?" My hand, mid-wipe across the photograph, froze. "Sign what?" He looked just as confused. "The request to relinquish the burial plot." "Mr. Cross submitted the request two months ago." My head snapped up. The man paused, then continued. "Mr. Cross said the child has been gone for so many years, and he felt that keeping the grave was preventing you from moving on." "The grandparents said the family needed to stop living in the past, especially with a new baby here now. So they agreed." "However, since the plot is registered under your family trust, formal cancellation requires your personal signature. We couldn't proceed without your authorization." For a second, I couldn't feel my hands. "Then why today, of all days?" The staff member blinked. "Mr. Cross said today marks the anniversary of his death, and that you come every year." "He thought it would be convenient for you to sign while you're here." "He also said you and he had already discussed it." "That's complete bullshit." I looked down at the headstone. Ethan was so small in the photograph—so small he'd barely had a chance to see the world. So this was what they meant by "moving forward." Embrace Camille's child. And erase every sign that Ethan had ever existed. What made it even more absurd — Julian had calculated, with perfect certainty, that I would come today. The rage I'd suppressed for so long finally caught fire. "From today on, any changes to this plot go through me and me alone." "Without my consent, no one touches it." The staff member was about to respond — When a familiar voice came from behind me. "Elena." Footsteps, drawing closer. "Haven't you caused enough of a scene already?"

第3章

Elena's POV Julian stopped a few paces away, reaching out to touch Ethan's photograph. "Elena, I'm doing this for your own good." "We both need to look ahead." I wrenched his hand away and stared at him coldly. "Look ahead?" "Like you? Cancel Ethan's grave one minute, and the next you're cradling someone else's child?" Julian's brow creased. "I told you, the grave was only because I want you to heal." "If you don't want it, I'll withdraw the application. That's all." He said it so lightly. As if all he had to do was concede one small point, and this could be swept under the rug like every other argument before it. I was about to speak when a baby's wail suddenly rose from behind me. Julian turned around almost instantly. I followed his gaze. Camille stood a short distance away, holding the baby. Her clothes were slightly disheveled, her eyes rimmed red. "Julian, after you left the baby wouldn't stop crying. Nothing I do works." He strode over, took off his jacket, and draped it around her shoulders. Then he lifted his hand to touch her cold cheek, his expression softening instantly. "Camille, the doctor said you're still recovering. You shouldn't be out in the cold." The year Ethan died, I had wandered into the snow in a daze, looking for him. When Julian found me, I was already numb with hypothermia. His eyes were red, and he stripped off nearly every piece of clothing he had to wrap around me. The look in his eyes then was the same one he was giving Camille now. Camille shook her head softly and leaned her cheek into his palm. "The baby and I just... missed you so much." The moment she finished speaking, the infant in her arms reached out toward Julian. He hesitated for only an instant before taking the baby. He lowered his head, patting the small back with practiced ease, and the crying quickly subsided. That look of tenderness — the last time I'd seen it was when Ethan was first born. I stared at his hands. Those same hands had just touched Ethan's cold photograph. And now one was cupping another woman's cheek. The other was cradling their child. Camille spoke quietly. "Ms. Ashford, I didn't mean to intrude." She paused, her gaze drifting back to the baby in Julian's arms. "He wouldn't settle down without Julian. I really had no choice." Everything went still. Julian's brow tightened slightly, but he didn't deny a word. "Please leave." My voice trembled, but it was unwavering. Julian instinctively drew the baby closer to his chest. "Elena, please. He's just a baby." "If you're angry, be angry at me." I laughed. My mother said the child was innocent. Now Julian held the baby tight against him, too. As if any distress that child suffered would be my fault. But what about my Ethan? What did he ever do wrong? I looked at the baby in Julian's arms. The emotions that had been churning inside me all evening suddenly went quiet. I lifted my head. "Julian." "I want a divorce." His hand, gently patting the baby's back, went rigid. When he looked up, every trace of warmth was gone. "Elena, I've told you many times." "I will not agree to a divorce."