Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned

The owner of a small company gives me an expensive bag as a gift because I want to invest in his company, yet his wife mistakes me for a homewrecker.

She and her entourage crash my engagement party and trash the place.

"All homewreckers need to go to hell!"

"Shameless women will always be shameless. Strip her so everyone online can see what she looks like!"

"Share the livestream and like it, everyone! We'll disfigure her once we hit 500 thousand likes!"

Not only does my fiancé refuse to help, but he even announces that the engagement is off. "A homewrecker doesn't deserve to marry me!"

I repeatedly warn them not to act rashly, but they ignore me. So, I give them each a swift punch to the gut before stepping on the perpetrator's face. Then, I call my secretary.

"Tell Mr. Lane that I'm pulling out of the investment. Also, call the police and my lawyer. I've been robbed and insulted in public—I want the culprits to go to jail for this!"

My fiancé regrets everything and asks me for a reconciliation, but I kick him aside. "Get lost! I'm not dumpster!"

The engagement party was just about to begin.

My elbow was hooked around my fiancé's as we walked toward the banquet hall.

All of a sudden, he turned to me. "Yvie, what do you think of women who become mistresses?"

"Why are you asking this out of the blue?"

Yale Linton didn't answer my question. Instead, he gritted his teeth and said, "I think the woman who becomes a mistress and then tricks an honest man into marrying her is filthy and despicable. I think she deserves to be ruined and condemned!"

He was acting weird today.

But before I had the time to ponder further, we arrived at the banquet hall.

As I lifted my dress to step onto the stage, a group of people who called themselves the Anti-Mistress Alliance stormed in.

In the lead was a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes. She lunged at me and slapped me hard across the face. "You shameless thing, how dare you seduce my husband? I'm beating you to death!"

She moved so quickly that I didn't have time to react. In an instant, my cheek swelled up.

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Shocked and panicked, I cupped a hand over my face and instinctively leaned into Yale.

To my surprise, he presented me with a slap, too. Disgust was written all over his face as he spat, "You mistress—how low can you be?"

The crowd erupted into murmurs. The judgmental eyes and phone cameras pointed at me made me feel nauseous.

Coupled with the burning pain on my face, I was completely bewildered. "What are you all talking about?"

Yale sneered. "Drop the pretense. I know everything. You're not some big boss; you're just someone's kept woman! You conniving wench, you've been lying to me all these years!"

"I've never been a mistress!"

We had