Mistakenly Married by You

As the funeral came to an end, the mourners slowly departed from the grand and solemn mourning hall. The only person left was Lucille Powell, a stunning woman dressed in white, kneeling on one of the pews, lost in deep prayer.

After a while, Lucille stood up. She looked at the deceased's portrait one last time and made her way out of the hall.

Exhausted, she returned to Reed Family Villa but remembered that she hadn't seen her husband in days.

Her husband had been working overnight recently and regretted not being able to attend his grandfather's funeral. Lucille understood that he was coping with the loss in his own way, and work seemed to be his refuge. Everyone handles grief differently; as his wife, the best thing she could do was be there for him.

Stopping by the villa, she prepared some soup for him and then drove to Reed Corp. Lucille glanced at the thermos in the passenger seat and smiled softly. Upon arrival, with a thermos in hand, she quickly got out of the car and made her way into the company.

"Welcome, Mrs. Reed. Shall I notify the president of your arrival?" the receptionist politely greeted her as Lucille approached the front desk.

"No need. Lucas is expecting me," Lucille replied with elegance. She knew her husband must be immersed in his work, and a phone call from the lobby would only serve as a distraction.

The receptionist hung up the phone and hurriedly walked towards the CEO's elevator, gesturing for Lucille to follow. "Please, come this way, Mrs. Reed."

Lucille stepped into the familiar elevator, heading to Lucas' office on the 28th floor. As it ascended, the gentle hum of the elevator brought a sense of calm to Lucille. After three years of marriage, visiting Lucas at his workplace had become one of their cherished moments of connection.

Lucille cautiously stepped out of the elevator, her footsteps silenced by the luxurious Italian carpet adorned the corridor. Making her way toward the end of the hallway, she approached Lucas' office door. As she raised her hand to knock, she noticed the door slightly ajar. A mischievous thought crossed her mind – it would be delightful to surprise her husband by entering quietly. Lucille couldn't help but imagine the amusing expression on his handsome face once he realized her prank.

With a gentle push, she eased the door open and entered the room silently. To her surprise, Lucas was nowhere to be seen. However, her curiosity was piqued when she heard a faint conversation from within the private room in the office.

"My dear, do you love me?" a woman's voice echoed.

"Of course, baby, I love you. You are the most important woman in my life," a hoarse voice replied.

Lucille's heart sank, and the world seemed to crumble around her. It couldn't be her husband, could it? The words she overheard were too devastating to comprehend. If that woman was Lucas' beloved, then who was she? Lucille was his wife!

Tears welled up in Lucille's eyes, cascading down her cheeks like a torrential downpour. It felt like a thousand needles pierced her heart, leaving her weakened and shattered. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, and she struggled to maintain her composure, almost dropping the thermos.

Moans and grunts filled her ears, and despite her lack of experience, Lucille wasn't a fool not to know what was happening. She covered her mouth to stifle her sobs, leaning against the wall for support as her strength waned.

Denial flooded Lucille's mind as she desperately sought to reconcile the shocking revelation with her memories of Lucas's kindness and their intimate moments. She recalled countless instances where Lucas had shown his affection in small, tender gestures. He would cast aside his macho facade to tie her shoelaces in front of others, reach for dishes that were out of her grasp during dinner parties, and even soothe her with a hot compress during painful period cramps.

"This can't be real..." Lucille murmured, clenching her fist, desperately trying to convince herself it was all a misunderstanding. There was no way that the man inside that room could be her beloved husband. Lucas's love and the warmth in his eyes couldn't possibly be a facade. Besides, she knew that Lucas had erectile dysfunction, a condition she had supported him through for the past three years, hoping for his recovery. It simply couldn't be him.

In her panicked state, Lucille tried to convince herself that the hoarse voice she heard didn't match Lucas's, providing a faint glimmer of hope. Perhaps it was one of his drunken friends engaging in inappropriate behavior. The thought bolstered her resolve, granting her a semblance of courage as she moved closer to the private room.

"Maybe I should ask them to take their activities elsewhere, like a hotel," Lucille thought, her voice laced with uncertainty and determination. Even if it wasn't Lucas, it was inappropriate to soil her husband's office in such a manner.

Before she reached the room, her eyes were drawn to the scattered clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor. She hesitated for a moment. Her gaze fixated on something that made her freeze in shock.

Lucille felt her breath constrict as the weight of the situation closed in on her. The sight of the crystal cufflinks, meticulously designed by both her and Lucas, now adorning the crumpled suit scattered on the floor, confirmed her worst fears. She didn't need to open the next door to know who was inside.

A surge of conflicting emotions coursed through Lucille. Part of her wanted to flee from the scene, to escape the painful reality before her. But a stronger force compelled her to stay, to confront the person who had shattered her marriage. She switched into fight mode at that moment, unwilling to let go of the three beautiful years she and Lucas had built together. She was determined to face the one who had stolen her happiness.

As she pushed open the door, Lucille's gaze fell upon Lucas's sculpted back, marked with the passionate scratches of the woman beneath him. Tears welled up in her eyes as the truth washed over her. He had always deceived her, feigning erectile dysfunction to cover his infidelity. The efforts she had poured into their relationship now felt like a cruel joke. She had cared for him deeply, but he had manipulated her, leading her on like a puppet on a string.

In an instant, an overwhelming wave of anger surged within Lucille. Uncapping her thermos, she wasted no time pouring the soup onto the two unsuspecting lovers.

"Ah!" They cried out in surprise, their passion abruptly interrupted.

"What the fuck?" Lucas shouted, his fury evident as he turned to identify the source of the drenching liquid. Standing before him was Lucille, tightly gripping the nearly empty thermos, her teeth gritted in defiance.

Regret flickered through Lucille's mind momentarily, realizing she had taken the time to cool the soup before packing it in the thermos. The scalding heat would have delivered a more fitting punishment, a physical representation of her pain. Nevertheless, she locked eyes with Lucas, his handsome face still captivating, even with his hair dripping soup. He gulped, his expression shifting from anger to indifference. Lucille felt uncomfortable as the man she believed was her husband seemed utterly unaffected. He looked at her as though she were a stranger, unperturbed even after being caught in the most compromising position.

Slowly rising from the bed, Lucas draped a towel around his waist. Meanwhile, his mistress shrank back, hiding her face beneath the duvet to shield her identity from Lucille's gaze. Clenching her fists, Lucille turned her attention back to Lucas, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She wanted to scream at him, to unleash her fury, but only one word escaped her lips.

"Why?" Lucille asked, her voice trembling with a mix of tears and disbelief.

Lucas's face twisted with a sickening mix of disgust and contempt. He locked eyes with Lucille and spoke with deliberate slowness, his words laced with cruelty.

"You're filthy, Lucy. Did you honestly believe I loved you? How naive of you to think I would be interested in a whore like you!"