My Husband And His Intern Did Me Dirty

My husband, Jaxon Murray, was a renowned medical expert and owned a big company. He was participating in a clinical drug trial when someone tampered with his medication. Under the influence, he ended up entangled with an intern—ninety-nine times, right there on the lab table.

When he regained clarity, he rushed home, locked himself in the bathroom, and submerged himself in the tub without food or water as he waited for me to return from work.

"Lauren," he said, "my medication was switched during the trial. I made a terrible mistake. But I paid her off and had her dismissed. She'll never appear before me again."

I wept miserably, clutching my belly that had once again failed to carry life. And in the end, I chose to forgive him.

Several months later, he crashed into a guardrail while answering a phone call, causing me to miscarry. The injury left me unable to conceive for life. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his voice choked with remorse.

"Darling, I don't deserve you. I'm so sorry… We don't need children. We have each other, isn't that enough?"

One day, I went to bring him lunch, only to find him in the next hospital room, cradling and feeding the woman he swore he'd never see again.

"She's too weak to eat by herself," he said. "She has early-stage stomach cancer. There's no one else to take care of her… she's all alone."

I chose to believe him. Again.

Until one day, a pair of twins appeared in our home. Sophie Dixon knelt before me, wearing the postpartum gown he had once lovingly picked out for me, clutching my hand with tears streaming down her face.

"It's all my fault. Please don't blame Jaxon. If you say the word, I'll leave with the children immediately."

Jaxon grabbed my other hand, desperation thick in his voice.

"Lauren, you've always been the kindest person I know. The children are still so young. How could Sophie possibly raise them alone? You wouldn't be that cruel… would you?"

I looked down at the hands gripping mine from both sides, and suddenly, I laughed.

"Jaxon, let's get a divorce. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness."

I pushed open the front door, and the groceries in my hand tumbled to the floor. I stood frozen in place.

A birthday candle flickered as everyone sang "Happy Birthday." The table was piled with an extravagant spread—dishes I didn't even recognize.

Seated around the table were my mother-in-law, my husband, Sophie Dixon, and a pair of twins nestled in their arms. The five of them bowed their heads in unison, making a birthday wish, smiles of contentment on their faces.

There wasn't even a place setting for me.

In that moment, I felt like a stranger who had barged into someone else's home.

It was a long time before my husband, Jaxon Murray, finally looked up and saw me. His fork paused briefly in midair, then, as