Scorned Wife, Now Craved by the Tyrant Don

WREN

Discovering that my esteemed sister-in-law—whom I had served with such deference for the past three years—was having an affair with my husband had definitely not been on my bucket list that year.

Especially not during our anniversary getaway.

That trip with James had been anything but smooth. Even from across the ocean, his mother hadn't stopped calling about the baby situation. Three years of marriage, and under the crushing weight of Abigail Davis's expectations, we had been drowning in infertility treatments—my IVF cycles, James's prostate issues, endless clinic visits that had bled us dry in more ways than one.

I had known our marriage wasn't built on love. It had been Arthur Davis's deathbed wish, nothing more. But that didn't mean I hadn't hoped for something sweeter. Of course I had wanted love. I had wanted a real family with my husband. Some things just weren't meant to be.

I had understood James's pressure. He had spent his entire life in his brother's shadow. His mother loved him, yes—but she had loved Benjamin more. Benjamin had outshone him in looks, talent, capability, even fertility. Benjamin and Ava had been the picture-perfect couple, complete with their six-year-old son, Liam.

That was why we had planned that trip. An escape from the suffocating family pressure. I had thought the relaxed atmosphere might bring us closer, maybe even improve our chances of conceiving. But before we could so much as connect, seasickness had claimed me. James had prepared some calming tea, and I had drifted off early.

Then I had woken in the middle of the night, searching for my husband. And there it was—a muffled groan coming from the bathroom.

"Ah, James... I'm almost there."

I froze with my hand on the bathroom door handle, because I recognized that voice.

Ava. Benjamin's wife. James's sister-in-law.

As if answering my unspoken suspicion, James's voice followed: "Wait for me, Ava. I miss you so much."

My hand trembled as I pushed the door open a crack. There he was—my husband—on a video call with his brother's wife, both of them in the midst of something I was never meant to see.

James was naked, his back facing me, and his head jutted down to the sink, his dick in his hand. His face contorted with desire.

On the other end of the phone, Ava was naked and her legs sprawled out while she dug her fingers into her vagina, her eyes rolled to the back in pleasure.

My lips quivered. Humiliation washed over me, cold and suffocating.

Was this the reason we'd never been able to conceive all these years?

Because my husband had been busy fucking his sister-in-law.

After they'd both finished, Ava's voice turned lazy, dripping with a contempt that shattered her usual mask of elegance and grace. "James, tell me—who's hotter, me or that little bitch Wren?"

"You, Ava. Always you. I've loved you since the first moment I saw you." His words came easily, without hesitation. "Wren's just a burden Grandfather saddled me with. Years of marriage and she can't even produce a son—you can imagine how boring she is in bed."

"If it weren't for the inheritance Grandfather promised, I'd have divorced her ages ago. You're the one I've always wanted to marry, Ava. Only you."

Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn't listen anymore.

I threw the door open.

"You filthy bastards!"

James spun around, fumbling to hide his phone behind his back. His eyes went wide—he hadn't anticipated this. "Weren't you asleep?"

"You... how could you..." I pointed at them, my voice strangled, words failing me.

And then—perhaps it was the lingering effect of the calming tea—my knees buckled. I crumpled to the floor, and everything went dark.

Shapes blurred around me. The room was unnaturally bright, sunlight filtering through the windows and casting hazy halos across everything.

I squinted, forcing my eyes open, but a dull throb pounded through my head, and I had to let them fall shut again.

"Fuck." I tried again. This time, my eyes stayed open.

James sat on the edge of the bed beside me, watching me with an unblinking stare. "Hey," he murmured softly, his hands reaching to cup my face.

Yesterday's memories crept back in fragments. I clamped my mouth shut, fighting the urge to gag as my stomach churned with nausea.

I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me with those dirty hands. I'm telling everyone—you've been fucking your sister-in-law behind my back this whole time!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Wren?" James's voice rose, his face a mask of innocence and wounded confusion. "I haven't left your side since you passed out from seasickness. And now you wake up accusing me of betraying our marriage? That really hurts, Wren."

The pain flickering across his face gave me pause. What?

"But last night, I clearly saw—"

"You slept through the entire night, Wren," James cut me off. "I've been right here watching over you until just now. And you're accusing me of..." He even turned away, as if wiping tears from his eyes.

That was when the ship's doctor stepped in. "Mrs. Davis, congratulations on waking up. Mr. Davis has been by your side all night—worn himself out watching over you."

I stared at the doctor, then at James's back, confusion deepening.

"But last night..."

"You took a nasty fall yesterday, hit your head. That might cause some memory confusion."

My heart clenched. Was it true? Had my husband not been cheating with his sister-in-law after all? Had last night been nothing but a dream?

Then why did every instinct scream otherwise? Why did I recoil from James's every touch, every nearness?

James's phone rang. He snatched it up quickly, and something flickered in his eyes—an emotion I couldn't read.

Then both the doctor and I watched as the phone slipped dramatically from his hand.

James turned to me, his lips trembling. "Wren... our trip... we have to cut it short."

"Benjamin... Benjamin's been in an accident."