The Legal Mistress

Chapter 1

It's Sunday, and I'm with Vaughn at church. He’s beside me, with his worthless wife on his other side, and next to her are their parents. I'm at the far end of the pew, so the only person next to me is Vaughn on my left.

People are staring at us, but I don't care. They can look all they want. No one dares to make negative comments, especially about me, because everyone is afraid of the governor of this place, who happens to be sitting right next to me.

I noticed the dirty looks people were giving me, but I just raised my eyebrow, and they quickly looked away. I understand why they’re angry. Who would be happy to see a well-known family complete at church but with a mistress in tow?

It’s hard to believe, but yes, I made it possible, and I’m proud of it. Most mistresses are hidden by their partners, but me? I’m the mistress who goes to all important events with my partner. I even outshine the legitimate wife! There's not a day we’re not together. I’m also present at significant political gatherings. No one dares to question our setup because they fear Vaughn, who is known for his harsh punishments.

The mass is starting, and everyone is focused. Even the priest avoids sermons about adultery when we attend. Everyone, including Vaughn's parents, is afraid of him, so we can do whatever we want.

"Hon, where do you want to eat?" he asked sweetly, kissing my forehead as we walked out of the church. I saw his wife roll her eyes, and I secretly smiled.

I propped my finger on my chin, pretending to think. I wanted to annoy his wife, so I chose her favorite restaurant where Vaughn and I could flirt, leaving her with unpleasant memories whenever she visited.

"Uhmm, I want to try the food at Dreams Gourmet, hon," I said sweetly to Vaughn, clinging to his arm. I saw Vaughn’s wife glance back at us, and I smiled.

Katharina Perezville, the woman I despise and whose husband I stole. Well, she deserves it! She ruined my life, and now I’m just starting my revenge.

I was only 16 years old when my dad died because of that cursed woman! We were coming home from the mall because he bought me a new phone to replace my broken one. We were crossing the pedestrian lane to get to our car on the other side when a speeding car came straight at us. My dad pushed me out of the way, causing me to fall on the pavement.

I saw my dad get thrown in the middle of the road after being hit by the car. Despite the pain in my knees, I ran to my dad, who was unconscious and bleeding from the head. I saw the woman who hit my dad get out of her car, so I approached her immediately.

"Ms.! You hit my dad, you need to help him!" I pleaded, grabbing her arm to stop her from entering the mall.

She turned to me with disgust and shook my hand off her arm.

"What the- don't f*cking touch me, you sh*t!" she shouted angrily and quickly took out wet wipes from her bag to clean the arm I touched.

"But you hit my dad! We need to take him to the hospital!" I pleaded, glancing at my unconscious dad.

"Look, I’m in a hurry, so stop bothering me! Here! Get out of my way, damn it!" she yelled, throwing a thousand pesos at my face before rushing into the mall after a man.

I tearfully went to my dad, who was still unconscious. I saw a car approaching, so I stood in its path to make it stop.

"Hey kid! Are you trying to get yourself killed!?" an angry man shouted as he got out of the car.

"Please help my dad! Have mercy!" I cried, pointing to my dad lying on the road, bleeding.

The man quickly ran to my dad and carried him into his car. I followed, holding my dad's hand and crying as we drove to the hospital.

"What happened to your dad?!" the man asked frantically while driving quickly.

"He was hit by a car!" I sobbed, still holding my dad's hand.

"Where's the driver? Didn’t they help you?!" he asked angrily, handing me a white handkerchief to wipe my tears.

"No, she didn’t. I tried to chase her, but she just yelled at me," I said sadly, taking the handkerchief.

"What kind of person does that! She’s at fault, yet she’s angry!!" he said furiously, but I didn't respond as I started to feel the anger towards that woman..

We were nearing the hospital when my father regained consciousness. Even though he was weak, he tried to reach my face, so I quickly took his bloodied hand and pressed it against my cheek.

"M-my dear child, I-I love you," he said haltingly, as blood started to trickle from his mouth.

"S-shh Papa, we're almost at the hospital. Please don't talk anymore," I said, crying, and held his hand tightly against my face.

"I-I love you all," my father said with great difficulty, and his eyes slowly closed as his hand slid off my face.

"Kuya, please drive faster!" I shouted in a panic to the driver, who sped up and continued honking to clear the way.

"Fight, Papa! Don't leave us!" I cried as I hugged his body tightly, sobbing.

When we arrived at the hospital, he was immediately placed on a stretcher and taken to the emergency room. I tried to follow, but the nurses stopped me as the doctor began to check on him.

"No pulse, doc," I heard a nurse say. The doctor gave some instructions, and the nurse left, returning with two square devices resembling irons. They applied some gel and placed them on my father's chest. I saw his body jerk, and they repeated this several times until I heard the long, piercing sound from the machine attached to him.

"Time of death: 9:30 pm," I heard the doctor say, and I collapsed to the floor. The doctor approached, knelt in front of me, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but your father was dead on arrival," he said sadly before standing up and leaving the emergency room.

My chest tightened as I sat on the floor, tears streaming down my face. I quickly got up and approached my father's lifeless body.

"Papa!!! Wake up, Papa!! Don't leave us and Mama!!" I screamed, shaking his body as I sobbed uncontrollably.

"Child!! My husband!!" I heard my mother's voice calling me, and I turned to see her rushing toward us, crying when she saw my father's lifeless body.

She embraced his body, repeatedly calling his name. My siblings were also there, crying on the side.

I rubbed my mother's back as she continued to wail over my father's loss. I, too, was at a loss for what to do, unable to believe that my father was truly gone.

We filed a case against that woman, whose name turned out to be Katharina Perezville. We also tried to request the CCTV footage from outside the mall on that night, but the mall management refused, claiming that their CCTV camera was broken at that time, so they had no footage to provide.

Due to the lack of evidence and witnesses, we lost in court, and our case was dismissed. My mother and I were very angry, but there was nothing we could do.

We knew that woman had paid off the mall management to hide the footage from us so we wouldn't have evidence to prove her guilt.

Since my father's death, we started to struggle financially. My father was a teacher, and my mother was a housewife, so we only relied on my father financially.

Their savings were running out, and I noticed changes in my mother. She became often lost in thought and irritable. She would frequently hurt my siblings even for small mistakes they made.

Eventually, it reached a point where she could no longer communicate properly and would often talk to herself. Sometimes, she didn't recognize us, would get angry at us for no reason, and would throw things at us.

One day, she almost stabbed me with a knife when I came home from school. I was washing dishes when she suddenly screamed behind me, accusing me of killing her husband. Luckily, I managed to dodge when she lunged at me with the knife.

After that incident, I sought help from government officials to get treatment for my mother because I knew her mind couldn't cope with my father's death, and she was nearly going insane.

I had to stop studying to work and provide food for my two siblings. They are both boys, and I am the eldest, so it is my responsibility to take care of them since no one else will.

At that time, the sibling next to me was only ten years old, and our youngest was just seven. I forged my age to apply for a job.

I got accepted at a call center due to my proficiency in English, which my father taught me. I worked at night, and in the morning, I stayed home while my siblings went to school.

At a young age, I had to act as a parent to my two younger siblings while my mother continued her treatment at the mental hospital, where she was taken by those I asked for help.

To Be Continued...