You Replaced Me, Now Beg

Beatrice’s POV

On our sixth wedding anniversary, my husband Jonathan brought home his late ex-girlfriend's sister—despite my protests.

"Beatrice, have you no humanity? You can't even tolerate a dying patient under our roof. How cold-blooded can you be? What kind of example are you setting for Oliver?"

My own son swung his tiny fists at me. "If you don't let Isadora stay, I'll never speak to you again!"

That moment shattered what remained of my hope.

I signed the divorce papers, returned to law practice, and clawed my way back to the top.

Until they discovered the woman's monstrous deception—

Jonathan and our son knelt before me, eyes red with tears, begging. "Beatrice, do six years together mean nothing to you now?"

My son clung to my legs, sobbing. "Mommy! Mommy, don't go! I was wrong! Mommy—"

Six years into our marriage, my husband brought his late ex-girlfriend's sister into our home—over my objections.

"Beatrice, Isadora's condition is critical. I've decided she'll stay with us."

I looked down at the carefully prepared anniversary dinner before me, now overshadowed by a white blood cell leukemia diagnosis on the table.

This was Jonathan's sixth anniversary gift to me.

Seeing my expression darken, Isadora leaned into his embrace, her voice fragile as gossamer. "Jonathan, forget it. Beatrice doesn't want me here."

She paused, her eyes glistening. "Besides, I probably won't live much longer anyway... the same disease as my sister... just let me go."

"Don't talk like that, Isadora. You'll get better." Jonathan turned to me, his gaze glacial. "Beatrice, have you no humanity? You can't even tolerate a dying patient. How cold-blooded can you be? What kind of example are you setting for Oliver?"

Oliver—my six-year-old son—leaped from the sofa at his father's words, his small fists hammering against my legs.

"If you don't let Isadora stay, I'll never speak to you again!"

The steak on the table had gone cold, just like my heart.

One was the man I'd loved for six years. The other was the son I'd carried for ten months and saved with my own bone marrow.

Through Jonathan's countless nights away from home, if I had any reason left to hold on, it was Oliver.

There was a time when he'd cling to me like a little koala, his arms wrapped tight around my neck, whispering in my ear, "Mommy, I love you most of all."

But now, for another woman, he was ready to cast me aside without hesitation.

In that instant, disappointment eclipsed anger.

I laughed bitterly and turned toward our bedroom, only to hear Jonathan call out, "Beatrice, pack your things. You're moving to the guest room."

I stopped but didn't turn around.

"Isadora is ill. Seeing us share a bedroom might remind her of her late sister and worsen her condition."

He said it as casually as if commenting on the weather.

I took a deep breath, walked into the room, and with trembling hands, dialed a familiar number.

"Vivian, I want to come back to work."

The voice on the other end erupted with joy. "Really? Beatrice, you've finally come to your senses! You gave up your career for family—it was a loss to the entire legal profession. Welcome back, Courtroom Queen!"

I managed a bitter acknowledgment and immediately booked a flight for next week.

Just as I was putting my phone away, I noticed Isadora's latest social media post.

The photo showed Jonathan pushing a shopping cart loaded with gifts. Oliver walked alongside, while Isadora held his hand, her smile radiant.

The caption read: Got so many gifts today—someone spoils me rotten~

They both hated shopping. Whenever I suggested it, Jonathan would frown and call it a waste of time, while Oliver would tug impatiently at my sleeve, complaining of boredom.

So they didn't hate shopping—they just never wanted to go with me.

I scrolled to a comment from Jonathan's friend Sebastian: Jonathan, aren't you afraid Beatrice will get angry? Better watch out—she might leave you!

Jonathan's reply was curt: She wouldn't dare.

Years ago, I'd quit my job believing Jonathan's promise to love me forever. I'd donated bone marrow to save Oliver, leaving me unable to have more children. Now, after six years as a homemaker with nothing but them, I could only tilt my head back, blinking furiously to keep the tears from falling.

The door suddenly swung open. Jonathan walked in carrying a gift bag.

"Here. I remember you used to love buying necklaces." He thrust the box toward me like he was bestowing charity.

I opened it. Inside lay a tarnished silver necklace with an outdated design. The inside of the box was stamped with two words: Complimentary Gift.

Even the necklace was a freebie.

Isadora received bags of gifts. My anniversary present was a promotional giveaway.

I raised my hand and tossed the box straight into the trash.

Jonathan's face contorted with rage as he grabbed my wrist. "Beatrice, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Taking out the trash," I said calmly.

"I put thought into this, and you just throw it away?" His face twisted with fury. "It's our anniversary—I made an effort to bring you something, and this is how you repay me? Ungrateful!"

"Yes, I'm ungrateful. And let me be clear—every piece of garbage you give me goes straight in the trash."