The Betrayed Housewife’s Sweet Revenge

Katherine's POV

My mother-in-law, Dorothy, sneered that I dressed like a janitor. My husband, Adrian, called my design sketches "a waste of fabric." Even the son I carried for nine months called me an embarrassment, saying he wished his dad’s secretary, Madison, was his mother.

For eight long years, I was nothing but an unpaid maid in this house.

Until today, when the doctor told me severe exhaustion was causing my heart to fail. And my eight-year-old son just pointed at the bag of medicine in my hand, shrieking, "You just have a headache! Why are you wasting money on medicine?"

I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I went home, opened the bottom drawer of Adrian’s desk, and signed the divorce papers he had been secretly preparing.

In their wildest dreams, they could never imagine that the sole trigger condition for my late mother's $50 million trust fund was for me to leave this man.

——

"You just have a headache! Why are you wasting money on medicine?"

In the ER hallway, Lucas’s shrill voice made passing nurses stop in their tracks.

Ten minutes ago, the ER doctor warned me that extreme, chronic fatigue had compromised my heart. But to my son, I was just faking it.

"Dad is right. You sit at home all day doing nothing, just trying to secretly spend his money."

The stares from the bystanders pricked my back like needles. I opened my mouth, swallowing the bitterness, trying to think of how to coax him.

The click of high heels stopped abruptly beside us.

"Swallow those words right now, brat," my best friend, Hailey, snapped, yanking me behind her. "Every cent of your tailored suits, every penny of your party today was scraped together by your mother. She spends everything on you, your dad, and your grandmother, and won't even buy herself a new coat. She's collapsing from exhaustion, buys a few bucks of medicine, and you yell at her like she's a thief?"

Lucas didn’t flinch. He just lifted his chin and sneered.

"So what? I’m allergic to peanut butter, I could die. She’s just dizzy. Why should she waste our family's money? Aunt Madison isn't like this. She goes to the office to help my dad make money even when she has a fever."

He stared me dead in the eye, spitting out the most venomous words.

"Grandma is right. A woman who is elegant and makes her own money, like Aunt Madison, is the only one who deserves my dad. I really wish Aunt Madison was my mom."

Dead silence fell over the hallway.

I stared at this arrogant eight-year-old. Once upon a time, he used to curl up in my arms, softly calling me the prettiest mom in the world.

Eight years ago, I gave up a booming career in fashion design to stay home. For eight years, I did all the chores, endured Dorothy treating me like a cleaner, and saved every dime to buy him limited-edition sneakers. Adrian constantly called my designs "trash" with zero aesthetic value in front of him. Day by day, this child had perfectly copied his father’s arrogance and snobbery.

I didn't break down. I calmly grabbed my car keys.

"Let's go. Your party isn't over yet."

Back at the suburban villa in Marvis City, the bouncy castle on the lawn was still loud. The party was entirely planned by Madison. She ordered a peanut cake that nearly killed Lucas, yet she couldn't care less. She was currently standing there in a loose evening gown, sipping champagne and laughing with other parents.

As soon as we stepped into the backyard, a boy named Toby ran over, half a hotdog in hand, looking at me curiously.

"Lucas, you're back! Didn't you say yesterday that Ms. Madison was your mom? Why did this lady take you to the hospital?"

Panic instantly flashed across Lucas’s face.

"Every time I'm sick, my mom always freaks out and takes me to the ER," Toby frowned. "So who is your real mom?"

Lucas looked at me in sheer terror, his eyes begging. He wasn’t afraid of hurting my feelings; he was terrified I would expose his lie and humiliate him in front of his friends. He pulled on my hem, mouthing silently: Please.

I looked down at my wrist. From holding down his convulsing body in the ER earlier, a dark, vicious bruise had formed.

I looked at Toby, forcing a cold, empty smile.

"Toby, Ms. Madison is his mother. I'm just the nanny. Since she was busy hosting all of you, I had to run him to the hospital."

I saw Lucas's tense shoulders instantly drop. Then, a flicker of confused sadness crossed his eyes.

I didn't care anymore. I gave the kids a perfect, distant smile, turned around, and walked out of the yard.

Outside, Hailey was leaning against her Porsche, smoking. Seeing me come out alone, she immediately crushed her cigarette and wrapped her coat tightly around my shaking shoulders.

"Katherine..." her voice was hoarse. "If Patricia was still alive and saw her beloved daughter humiliated by her own son like this, it would break her heart."

At the mention of my mother, my blood ran cold.

My mother raised me single-handedly. On her deathbed, whenever I mentioned Adrian, she would frown, squeeze my hand, and ask again and again: "Katherine, does that man truly love you?"

Back then, to maintain the illusion of a perfect marriage, I always smiled and promised her he treated me incredibly well.

Looking back at these eight years, what had my life become?

The fog that had clouded my mind for years cleared in an instant. The countless late nights tweaking designs in the basement, Adrian’s disdainful mockery, Dorothy's endless gaslighting, and the sheer disgust in my son's eyes just now... It all felt like a cheap, ridiculous farce.

I turned to look at Hailey's red-rimmed eyes. I felt no sorrow, only an unprecedented, piercing clarity.

"Hailey, I'm getting a divorce."