On My Son Birthday, My Husband Cheated With My Sister

Tonight was meant to be special. My son, Landon Hoover, would celebrate his fifth birthday.

He had been waiting eagerly for his father, Dylan Hoover, who had promised to be there with a special gift. Dylan had never been late before, and Landon believed in his father’s promises.

But as the hours ticked by, the excitement in my son’s eyes faded into disappointment. The candles burned down and the cake untouched. Dylan never showed.

The next morning, I learned the truth. Our butler, with a strained voice, revealed that Dylan had chosen to accompany my sister, Karyn Saunders, to her friend’s wedding celebration instead.

As if destiny wanted me to face more pain and sorrow, that day, Landon ran away from school, making him involved in a car accident and died.

At his funeral, I stood alone, Dylan was nowhere to be found.

A few days later, Dylan returned to our home in the Qualifin Hills. Without a word, I shoved our wedding ring into his chest.

“We are done,” I said, my voice cold and steely.

I turned my back on him, on the life I had once cherished, and walked out the door. But as I left everything behind, the nightmare was far from over.

That night, without warning, flames were everywhere in my boutique.

Karyn had set the fire and burned me to death. She was jealous of me, the sister she had stolen everything from, and yet it was not enough.

But the next thing I knew, I was back at the Manor. The day I left it all behind: the ring, the betrayal, and the heartbreak.

A cold resolve hardened in my chest. I muttered to myself, "This time, I will take my revenge."

***

When I opened my eyes, the world outside was still blurry. I blinked a few times before realizing I was in the backseat of a taxi. The driver’s voice cut through the haze of sleep.

“Miss, we have arrived at your destination,” he said gently, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

I nodded groggily and stepped out, taking my suitcase with me.

As I stood in front of my boutique, a sense of déjà vu washed over me. The last memory I had was being trapped inside my boutique, engulfed in flames, betrayed by my own sister, Karyn.

But at that time, everything was still intact in front of me, untouched by the fire.

“Was it all a nightmare? It felt so real,” I could not help whisper to myself.

After all, I was still in a mourning state for the loss of my only child, Landon.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed, breaking the eerie silence.

I glanced at the screen, a message from my colleagues. It read, [I’m so sorry for your loss, Ghislaine. But Mr. Hoover threatened to terminate our contract if I let you stay over. I hope you are okay.]

Dylan, the most influential man in Frelonia, could do everything he wanted there. So, since I had left our home, he had made sure no one would help me.

As a result, my colleagues, once supportive, had turned their backs on me out of fear of losing their livelihoods.

More messages trickled in, each one apologizing for not being able to offer me shelter. I was on my own.

I checked the time on my mobile, it was 5pm, while the fire in my dream had happened at midnight.

So, I shuddered at the thought, “Real or not, I need to be ready.”

Since Frelonia was no longer my home, I should move away to the next city, starting over where Dylan and Karyn could not find me.

But if the dream was real, if Karyn truly wanted me dead, she would not stop until I died. That was why running was not the first option I could choose at that moment.

I had to face her. Even though I really want to see my child again, I have to try to live to find out the truth behind my son’s accident.

The tragedy happened so fast, not even a trace of the vehicle and the person who hit him was found.

Maybe yesterday I was still grieving, but after everything that happened, I had to bring the perpetrator to justice so that my child could rest in peace.

With a deep breath, I made my way inside the boutique. If I was going to survive tonight, I needed to prepare.

I went upstairs and gathered fabric, enough to fashion an escape rope from the second floor, just in case.

As I worked, I felt a pang in my chest as my eyes caught sight of a framed photo on my office desk, me, Dylan, and Landon smiling happily.

I remembered that night so clearly, on our seventh anniversary dinner, we celebrated it together with Landon.

“Dad, I will turn 5 next month. Can you come?” Landon asked in his sweet voice, hoping that his father would agree to his request.

Dylan, in a promising tone, answered, “Of course, everything for you, sweetheart. I will make a grand birthday celebration and give you many special gifts. Just wait for it.”

I, on the side, just smiled, and did not want to interrupt the conversation.

“Hooray! Pinky promise?” Landon said while raising his little finger.

“Pinky promise,” Dylan answered, intertwining his fingers with Landon's, then he kissed our son's forehead lovingly.

Then, Landon looked at me and said, “Mom, you must promise me, too.”

I nodded before responding, “Sure, I promise.”

At the time, I was so blissfully unaware of the truth that lay beneath his charming exterior. After all, we had been married for seven years. We also had known each other since college.

I never imagined my sister, Karyn, could harbor feelings for Dylan and kill me in the end.