When an Engineer Divorces a Traitor

When an Engineer Divorces a Traitor

Gavin

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I tried to breathe, trapped in the gilded cage of 1900s New York, a silent observer overshadowed by my brilliant sister Bea. My marriage to Arthur Pendleton, the influential industrialist, was supposed to be a safe harbor, a quiet escape from the era' s suffocating expectations. But then, an anonymous letter slipped under my door, revealing his carefully hidden life: a mistress, Daisy Miller, and a secret son residing in Greenwich Village. When I confronted him, Arthur didn't flinch; he simply suggested I, his wife, discreetly "manage" his affair and illegitimate child, appealing to my "renowned compassion." The audacity, the utter disgust of becoming the caretaker for his betrayal, stole my breath and shattered every illusion of our life. My humiliation was complete as Daisy Miller herself appeared, heavily pregnant again, desperate and blaming me for Arthur' s sudden abandonment. His pleas for me to accommodate his expanding secret brood, his appeal to my "compassion," were the final insult to my intelligence. How could the man who pledged lifelong fidelity demand such a monstrous thing, expecting me to legitimize his lies? But then, Bea, my whirlwind sister, uttered a single word – "Google" – and the silent understanding between us, our shared 21st-century secret, finally broke through. In that earth-shattering moment, the quiet engineer in me awakened; I would no longer be a doormat or a tragic victim of this strange, old world. I crushed the diamond necklace he gave me, a symbol of his worthless promises, and vowed to use every bit of my future knowledge to not just leave Arthur, but to utterly destroy him.

Introduction

I tried to breathe, trapped in the gilded cage of 1900s New York, a silent observer overshadowed by my brilliant sister Bea.

My marriage to Arthur Pendleton, the influential industrialist, was supposed to be a safe harbor, a quiet escape from the era' s suffocating expectations.

But then, an anonymous letter slipped under my door, revealing his carefully hidden life: a mistress, Daisy Miller, and a secret son residing in Greenwich Village.

When I confronted him, Arthur didn't flinch; he simply suggested I, his wife, discreetly "manage" his affair and illegitimate child, appealing to my "renowned compassion."

The audacity, the utter disgust of becoming the caretaker for his betrayal, stole my breath and shattered every illusion of our life.

My humiliation was complete as Daisy Miller herself appeared, heavily pregnant again, desperate and blaming me for Arthur' s sudden abandonment.

His pleas for me to accommodate his expanding secret brood, his appeal to my "compassion," were the final insult to my intelligence.

How could the man who pledged lifelong fidelity demand such a monstrous thing, expecting me to legitimize his lies?

But then, Bea, my whirlwind sister, uttered a single word – "Google" – and the silent understanding between us, our shared 21st-century secret, finally broke through.

In that earth-shattering moment, the quiet engineer in me awakened; I would no longer be a doormat or a tragic victim of this strange, old world.

I crushed the diamond necklace he gave me, a symbol of his worthless promises, and vowed to use every bit of my future knowledge to not just leave Arthur, but to utterly destroy him.

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He Traded A Diamond For Cheap Glass

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I was the "Ice Queen," the perfect Mafia wife who managed the De Luca empire's millions while my husband, Alessandro, played the part of the feared Underboss. I thought my silence and competence earned me respect. That was until I woke up in the estate's medical bay with a shattered leg. My saddle had snapped mid-jump. It wasn't wear and tear; it was sabotage. Lying in the dark, feigning sleep, I heard Alessandro whispering outside my door with his enforcer. "The buckle was filed down," the enforcer said urgently. "Aria tampered with it. She could have broken her neck." I waited for Alessandro’s rage. I waited for him to execute the mistress who tried to kill his wife. Instead, his voice was cold and dismissive. "Bury it," Alessandro ordered. "It’s just a broken leg. Aria was upset about the credit cards. She just wanted to teach Katarina a lesson." A lesson. My husband wasn't just cheating on me; he was protecting the woman who tried to cripple me. Three days later, at the Family Charity Gala, he humiliated me publicly. He outbid me for my grandmother's heirloom necklace and clasped it around Aria's neck while I watched from my wheelchair. He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a piece of furniture to be rearranged. He didn't know I had bugged the entire villa while I was recovering. He didn't know I had the recordings of what Aria was really doing when he wasn't looking. I gripped the USB drive in my pocket and signaled the tech team to lock the doors. The statue was broken, but he was about to learn that shattered ice is sharp enough to slit a throat.

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