My Husband Wanted Me To Cheat And I Went To The Don. Chapter 01
Every time Charles brought a girl home, he made sure to bring a college boy back for me.
“I need excitement, and you need company. We both get what we want—no one blames the other.”
Watching him parade yet another man in front of me, I decided this would be the last time I’d play along.
“Nancy got pregnant by accident, but she wants the baby born under my wife’s name. So let’s get a temporary divorce.”
“Before we remarry, you’re free to spend time with him. I won’t stand in your way.”
In private, people asked him:
“Charles, that’s the wife you knelt in the rain for a whole day and night to win over. You’d really just hand her off to someone else?”
“Yeah, and you didn’t even tell the college kid to keep his hands off her?”
Charles just lit a cigarette, calm as ever.
“I’m not some cuckold who gets off watching other men get close to my wife.”
“You all know Silvia has a thing about purity. She won’t touch them.”
“Smart move, Charles. You bring a man home for Silvia, and if she doesn’t take the bait, that’s her choice—can’t blame you. Meanwhile you get to enjoy yourself with other women. Brilliant strategy.”
Everyone assumed I’d do what I’d always done—write a check and send the boy packing.
Instead, I looked at them and smiled. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
…
The cigarette froze halfway to Charles’s lips.
The living room went silent for a beat.
Mark was the first to react. “what did you just say?”
I set my phone down.
My gaze swept past Charles’s face and landed on the college boy.
“I said okay.” I looked Richard up and down. “He’s not bad-looking.”
Someone stood there with their jaw hanging open.
“She agreed?!”
“No way—she’s not kicking him out this time? Charles, did you hear that?”
Charles’s expression didn’t change. He just kept smiling at me.
It was Nancy who tensed up, clutching Charles’s arm a little tighter.
“Charles, she’s finally come around. You should be happy.”
Charles said nothing.
He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, walked over to Richard, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Take good care of your sister.”
Then he wrapped his arm around Nancy and headed upstairs.
I pulled my gaze back and looked at the boy still standing there, the tips of his ears flushed pink.
“Do you want to stay on campus or here?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I… either way is fine.”
“Then stay here.”
I turned and walked down the hall. Behind me, voices buzzed:
“Wait—she actually took him with her this time?”
“Trust Charles on this. Doesn’t she always just throw a check at them in a rage, like touching one of those guys would make her hand rot off?”
“She’s obviously just shocked that Nancy’s pregnant. She took the guy to piss Charles off.”
I kept walking. Their words landed on my back like needles—not painful, just dense and prickling.
They were right. I had been ridiculous before.
Ridiculously proud, ridiculously arrogant, ridiculously convinced that the words “I have standards” could protect something.
Every time Charles paraded a different type of college boy in front of me, I’d hand over a check with a cold face and throw them out.
I thought that meant I’d won. That at least I was cleaner than him. That I’d preserved something sacred about our marriage.
And in the end?
Nancy’s belly was round.
What exactly had my “standards” protected?
A divorce agreement, a bed I slept in alone, and the mocking stares of everyone in that living room.