I never thought I’d get caught in a scandal. But there I was—standing inside a cozy café on the other side of town—frozen in shock, staring at a scene I wish I could unsee. There sat my father-in-law, Richard, smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world.
He leaned in close to a woman. She laughed and brushed her hand against his. Then… they kissed.
And that woman? She was not my mother-in-law. My heart stopped.
My hands turned cold. My face flushed with heat. I wanted to disappear.
But let me take you back a little…
I married Daniel one year ago, and our love story felt like a movie. We met at a flower shop. I was there buying roses for my mom.
Daniel had ducked in to hide from someone he recognized on the street. He smiled at me. I smiled back.
And that was it. We kept talking, then dating, then—before I knew it—we were planning a wedding. But Daniel’s family?
Old money. Powerful. Fancy last names and family estates.
People like me—a small wedding gown designer—weren’t what they expected for their golden boy. At first, they didn’t hide their disappointment. I overheard things like:
“She’s sweet, but don’t you think you could do better, Daniel?”
But Daniel always made sure I knew I came first.
“You know that’s not important to me, Tessa,” he said once while we were having dinner. “You’re what I want. Not money or power or status.”
That was all I needed to hear.
Eventually, they warmed up to me. Or so I thought. They even helped me get a job through Richard’s close friend, Charles.
Soon, I wasn’t just sketching wedding dresses anymore—I was designing full fashion lines. My work took off. Then they helped Daniel open his own marketing agency.
Everything was going well. We were both doing great. The family drama seemed to calm down.
Life finally felt smooth. Until that day. That morning, I was running around the city picking out fabric swatches for a new client.
She wanted purple. Light lavender, deep violet, royal plum—you name it. I was starving by noon.
My stomach growled so loud, I actually laughed to myself. “Let’s eat, Tessa,” I whispered as I walked into the café. I was still thinking about whether I wanted a sandwich or a croissant when I saw them.
There was Richard. His silver hair slicked back like always. Sitting at a small corner table.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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