My Husband Gave His Mistress My Skin and Freedom

After nine years of marriage, every time Carmelo brought someone home, he’d toss me a divorce agreement.

The 99th time he did this, his threats were as nonchalant as ever.

"Karla’s pregnant, so from now on, you're her nanny—on call day and night to cater to her."

"Pregnancy is tiring; you’ll be making her coffee and giving her massages every day."

"If you refuse, then it's divorce."

In the past, I’d usually shove the papers aside, caving in to his unreasonable demands. But this time, I quietly signed my name.

Carmelo seemed stunned for a moment, then smirked.

"You’d better mean it this time. Don't come crawling back in three days begging me to change my mind."

His overconfidence was unchanged.

But he didn’t know about my plane ticket for tomorrow.

This time, I was truly letting him go.

---

Just after signing the papers, my phone buzzed.

"Did you sign the divorce papers? Remember, after we visit your parents tomorrow, we're meeting mine. You won’t back out, will you?"

"Too late now; the plane ticket is already booked."

Imagining his voice, I found myself smiling gently.

"I won’t."

I slid my phone back into my pocket, ready to pack my things.

Carmelo watched me, annoyed that I was smiling at my phone instead of paying him attention.

"Adelaide, why are you smiling? This isn’t the first time I’ve brought someone home. You’re not going to have another meltdown like the first time, are you?"

"I thought you'd be used to it by now."

Indeed, I was used to it.

The same scene has played out 99 times—not just used to it, but numbed by it.

Our marriage was arranged by our families, and when his beloved left for another country in anguish, he blamed me for her tragic death during a protest. Despite his resentment, he had to marry me, complying with his grandfather Asa's wishes.

Resistance was pointless, so he constantly brought women home to humiliate me.

The first time he did this, it was during our first anniversary at a garden party in front of hundreds of guests. I completely broke down, begging him not to divorce me like some crazed fool.

He relented, insisting that I care for his mistress as a condition to stay married.

After countless humiliations, I no longer had the energy.

This time, I’d keep my composure.

I walked toward my room without saying a word.

Just then, Karla, nestled in Carmelo's arms, spoke up sweetly.

"Carmelo, I don’t like that she wears a tattoo ring on her index finger just like yours. Go get it back from her, will you?"

As Karla spoke, the iciness in Carmelo’s eyes vanished.

"Alright, sweetheart, whatever you say. I’ll go get it back for you."