Divorced the CEO After His Mistress Killed My Mom

After Otis Sanchez cheated on me, I wanted revenge.

So over the next six months, I went through no fewer than ten boyfriends.

The same night I ended things with number ten, I asked Otis for a divorce.

Mrs. Sanchez. He didn't even look up from his phone. How many times does this make now?

He finally finished his message and raised his eyes to meet mine.

"What, not satisfied with the latest boyfriend?" A smirk played at his lips. "Must be serious if it's got the unflappable Mrs. Sanchez storming in here to make a scene."

He reached for his jacket, still smiling.

"But I don't have time for this tonight, Mrs. Sanchez. I have plans."

I watched him, still unable to understand. How did men compartmentalize so easilylove in one box, sex in another, neither touching?

"Otis." I stepped into his path, holding up the divorce papers. My voice was calm. "I'm serious this time. Let's set each other free."

1.

"Mrs. Sanchez." His expression remained carelessly indifferent. "I really don't have time to play along with your little drama."

He opened WeChat and waved the screen in front of my face.

"My girl's getting impatient."

"You should understand" His tone carried a hint of laughter, his features softening in a way I hadn't seen directed at me in years. "She's very hard to coax when she's upset, Mrs. Sanchez."

On the screen was a matching profile picture. A couple's avatar. Hers paired with his.

The chat showed her latest messages:

[How much longer are you going to babysit that old hag?]

[You said she has her own boyfriends anyway. Or whatyou decided you like older women now? Finally ready to get back together with your geriatric wife?]

She mocked my age without a shred of shame.

And Otis? He found it adorable. His reply made my stomach turn:

[Someone's jealous over nothing.]

A video call came through.

The sudden ringtone shattered the tension between us. Otis gestured at the screen apologetically. "You see, Mrs. Sanchez? I really am busy."

He answered it right in front of me.

Her voice poured outsyrupy, petulant, dripping with the confidence of a woman who knew she'd already won.

"Otis."

"I'm already outside your gate."

"You have three seconds."

"If you don't come out"

"We're done!"

I listened to her ultimatum, watched Otis's expression flicker with something like panic before smoothing into indulgent warmth.

"You little tyrant."

"My wife is home, you know," he cooed into the phone. "Aren't you worried she'll hack you to pieces?"

"If she actually hits you, don't come crying to me."

I stood there as he flirted like I was invisible. The girl on the phone laughed, utterly unbothered.

"You won't let that happen."

"You promised you'd protect me!"

I knew what I was supposed to do.

Stay silent. Let him leave. Give him his space. That's what everyone saidas long as you're Mrs. Sanchez, you'll never want for anything. You can keep living like royalty. Your mother in the hospital will get the best care money can buy.

But I was done.

Done pretending. Done swallowing my pride.

I snatched the phone from his hand. His eyes went wide, but before he could react, I spoke directly into it.

"That's right. Mrs. Sanchez is very violent." My voice was ice. "You set one foot through this door, and you'll leave on a stretcher."

The girl's shrieks exploded through the speakershameless bitch, how dare youbut I was already hurling the phone at the marble floor. It shattered with a satisfying crack.

Then I threw open the villa's front door.

She was standing right there. Face flushed. Eyes blazing.

My palm connected with her cheek before she could speak.

The slap echoed across the courtyard.

"Do you know what you are?" My tone was sharp enough to cut, but my expression stayed flatbored, even. "As long as I'm standing here, holding the title of Mrs. Sanchez for even one more second, you're nothing but a homewrecking mistress who isn't fit to be seen in public."

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her head against the door frame. The impact rang out like a gunshot.

She screamedraw, unhinged.

"You're insane!"

"OTIS!"

"OTIS! Are you just going to stand there and watch her do this to me?!"

"Otis!"

I raised my hand, ready to slap her again.

But my wrist was suddenly seized from behind. Otis's voice came from over my shoulder, laced with cold amusement.

"Mrs. Sanchez, that's rather undignified, don't you think?"

His tone stayed light, almost playful.

I heard the warning underneath.

"She's at that age where girls care about their looks," Otis continued. "If you actually damage her face, you'll be the one dealing with the fallout. Why put yourself through that?"

His voice remained mild, indifferent evenbut his grip on my wrist tightened, twisting until I had no choice but to release her. Only then did he speak again.

"Let's chalk today up to youthful impulsiveness. She overstepped. It happens."

"But if there's a next time" His gaze dropped to me, turning glacial. "Mrs. Sanchez, my tolerance has limits."

I watched him cradle her like she was made of glass, murmuring soft reassurances.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"

"There's a good girl."

She melted into his arms, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. He scooped her up effortlessly, ready to leavebut I called out before he could.

"Otis."

He didn't stop. I didn't care. I chased after him and blocked his path.

"If you really love her" My eyes locked onto her tear-streaked face. "Give her a proper title."

I leaned close to her ear, my voice dropping to a whisper edged with laughter.

"It's not that I won't step aside."

"Your precious Otis won't let me vacate my position so you can take my place. If you're really as capable as you think" I let the words land, light but lethal. "Make him agree. Make him fight for you the way he once fought to bring me into the Sanchez family."

Her body went rigid. The smugness drained from her face.

She looked up at Otis, suddenly fragile. Uncertain.

Otis exhaled slowly. He set her down and walked toward me.

"Debbie."

His voice was flat. Empty.

"Don't regret this."

He signed his name on the lineand then turned back to comfort her.

"Happy now?"

She burst into tears of joy, throwing her arms around him. But her eyes found mine over his shoulder, holding my gaze in silent challenge.

I win.

That's what her look said.

I didn't spare Otis another glance. I didn't acknowledge her triumphant stare. I only felt the boulder that had been crushing my chest finally roll away.

I couldn't name what I felt.

I just sat in the empty villa, watching the movers methodically erase every trace of my existence, when my phone buzzed.

A video. From Otis's little girl.

On the screen:

Otis, down on one knee, pressing his lips to the back of her hand with the reverence of a man worshipping something sacred. His voice, soft and fervent:

"Jemima."

"My feelings for you aren't just words."

"The ceremony you want, the commitment you needI'll give you all of it. So" He produced a ring, the diamond obscenely large, and slid it onto her finger. "Are you happy now?"

Jemima laughed and cried at once, nodding frantically. Then she sent me a message.

[Everyone says Otis loved you so much back then that he defied his entire family to marry you. That he knelt in the Sanchez ancestral hall for seven days straightno food, no waterand took the family's punishment just to make them accept you.]

[And your mother, clinging to life by a thread? She's only alive because Otis brought in the best medical team money could buy.]

[But you don't know the truth, do you?]

Another video arrived.

[It was never what you thought.]

The lighting was dim. A private clubOtis's usual haunt. I recognized every face in the room.

Someone's voice, teasing:

"Otis, what's the deal with you and Debbie? This whole messwhat's the point?"

Otis sat in the center, rolling our wedding ring between his fingers. The man pressed on.

"Debbie's been running wild out there. Five boy toys, at least. Aren't you worried she'll catch something? Doesn't it disgust you?"

"She's out there running wild, and you're just going to look the other way?"

Otis said nothing.

It was Jemima who snapped, slamming her glass down on the table.

"At the end of the day, you still have feelings for Debbie."

"For that old woman!"

"If you love her so much, what are you even doing with me?!"

She whipped around to leave.

Only then did Otis move. He caught her wrist, pulled her onto his lap, and laugheda low, lazy sound.

"Why would I have feelings for her?"

He leaned back, perfectly at ease.

"Debbie hasn't actually done anything. Those men she's been seeing? They're just props. Tools to get a rise out of me."

"I know her better than she knows herself. She has lines she won't cross."

"The day she actually does something like that, she stops being Debbie."

Laughter rippled through the private room.

Jemima still wasn't convinced.

"Just because you say so doesn't make it true."

"Do you have surveillance or something? How would you even know?!"

Her voice pitched into a petulant whine, and Otis chuckled, amused. He set his phone on the table.

"See for yourself."

On his phone

Every single chat log. Ten men. Every message I'd ever exchanged with them. And the videosevery date, captured frame by frame, stored in a folder on his device. Not a second missing.

Otis's voice was flat. Almost bored. But the chill of it seeped into my bones.

"Women."

"All that jealousy and posturingit gets tedious. Debbie wanted to play games, so I gave her playmates."

"Sure."

"At first, she genuinely wanted someone who understood her. Someone who saw how hard she had it. But the moment any of them actually tried to touch her"

He tapped one of the videos.

It was my third boyfriend. He'd leaned in to kiss me. I'd pushed him away, my face apologetic but firm: "I'm sorry. I just... can't."

Then I'd said the words.

"Let's break up."

Otis gestured at the screen.

"That's Debbie."

"Traditional to her core. Morality above everything."

"She's not capable of crossing that line. This whole thing was just to make me angry."

He opened WeChat next. Tapped on a conversationmy seventh boyfriend, reporting in.

"Mr. Sanchez, just as you predicted. The moment I suggested getting a room, Mrs. Sanchez looked at me like I was disgusting. Said I only wanted one thing. She ended it on the spot."

"Sir."

"Do you want me to keep pursuing her?"

I remembered him.

We'd shared so muchpainting, art, even a love for silly anime. A month and a half of what felt like genuine connection. Then he'd suggested we get a hotel room.

His hand had landed on my shoulder, fingers starting to slip beneath my collarand my body had reacted before my mind could. I'd thrown up right there. Ended things immediately.

That night.

I'd stumbled back to the villa, still shaking, only to find Otis waiting in the living room.

He'd watched me with that half-smile of histhe one that drank in every ounce of my humiliation. Shame burned through me, but beneath it was something uglier: hatred for myself, for still being unable to take that final step. I'd broken down sobbing.

And then Otis had pulled me into his arms.

"Debbie."

"Still want to keep playing?"

The perfume clinging to him wasn't mine.

I'd looked up and seen the red marks on his neck. The lipstick smeared on his collar. My stomach had lurched, and I'd vomitedright onto him.

Disgust had twisted his features. He'd stripped off his jacket and thrown it at my feet.

"Debbie."

"How long are you going to keep this up?!"

"Yes, I cheated."

"But haven't I given you everything you wanted?! You went from being a nobodysome village girl with nothingto Mrs. Sanchez. Everyone envies you. Everyone says you hit the jackpot. What more could you possibly want?!"

I stared up at him, towering above me.

I'd never seen Otis as a stranger before. But in that moment, he became oneand I finally shattered.

"Otis."

"Let's get a divorce."

I was sobbing uncontrollably, begging him.

"Otis, please. Just let me go."

He didn't agree.

He just watched me fall apart with that detached coldness, then dropped a single line before walking away.

"Debbie."

"You're not thinking about yourself."

"But what about your mother?"

Right.

My mother was still in the ICU.

The entire medical teamOtis had personally arranged for them to care for her. Even if only for Mom's sake, I had to endure. I could only endure.

So I kept swallowing it all, right up until today.

I stared at my phone, at the messages Jemima kept sending. I tapped on the latest video.

Otis was clearly drunk, holding Jemima close as he spoke.

"Debbie won't divorce me."

"Even if she doesn't stay for me"

"she'll stay for her mother. Because of her mother. No matter how far I push her, she can only take it."

A dull ache bloomed in my chest. I'd long accepted that Otis and I could never go back to what we were. But hearing him weaponize my weakness so casuallyit still cut deep.

I listened as Jemima asked him why.

He just gave a low laugh.

"There's a secret."

"Something Debbie never knew."

"See, Debbie" He beckoned with one finger, and Jemima leaned in. "Her mother always had a chance at recovery. Eighty percent success rate if she went overseas for treatment. But I never agreed to it."

"And I made sure no one told her."

Ice crawled up my spine.

My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone. His voice, cold and flat, kept drilling into my ears.

"I blocked every piece of information. Made sure Debbie never found out."

"Because I needed her."

"To never be able to leave me."

"Debbie, you see"

The rest

I couldn't hear anymore. Tears blurred everything. I clamped a hand over my mouth, choking on silent sobs as the memories crashed over me.

Mom, trying to scrape together my college tuition, had followed the village women into the mountains to gather herbs. She'd fallen. And she'd never woken up.

So many years now.

She'd always been the wound I carried.

I still remembered how I'd nearly destroyed myself back then.

Then Otis appeared.

The untouchable young heir, standing in front of me, pulling me into his arms so tight it hurt.

"Don't be scared, Debbie."

"You have me. You don't have to be afraid of anything."

Otis had held my broken pieces together. My collapse. My entire life. He'd brought in the best medical team for my mother. Paid my tuition.

It was Otis.

It was always Otis.

He'd made me who I became.

And it was also Otis

My phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

The hospital.

My heart seized. Before I could even answer, Jemima's mocking voice came through the video.

"What a shame."

"Looks like your mom lost the will to live after she learned the truth."

The camera showed my mother's face. Tears at the corners of her eyes.

I frantically hit accept, and the doctor's voice came through.

"Mrs. Sanchez."

"Your mother"

Silence stretched on the other end.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The world went mute. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, and my own voice, cracking.

"My mom..."

"What happened to my"

"Your mother passed away at 6:35 p.m. today."

"Please..."

"Accept our condolences."

This wasn't the first time Otis had drunk himself unconscious. Everyone knew the Sanchez heir wore a mask of warmthbut underneath, he was colder than anyone.

One single weakness had grown from his heart.

Her name was Debbie.

Debbie.

"Debbie..."

Otis's eyes snapped open. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair and snatched up the phone that wouldn't stop ringing. The caller ID barely registered before his foul temper exploded through the line.

"This better be important!"

"Sir..."

The voice on the other end stumbled, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Otis felt his eyelid twitch. His heart seized.

He didn't even have time to brace himself.

Through the phone, Geoffrey Sanchez finally managed to speak, his voice trembling.

"Mrs. Sanchez, she..."

"Mrs. Sanchez's mother passed away last night."