I Married My Boss to Get Revenge on My Ex

My name is Melanie Hawthorn. Seth Mondale and I depended on each other for ten years. From eighteen to twenty-eight, my life revolved solely around him. We endured the toughest days in a rented room in the old district. He worked three jobs to pay for my college, while I saved my scholarship money to buy him a winter down jacket. Those winters were bitterly cold; we squeezed onto a single small bed, and he always tucked my hand into his arms. He said, "Melanie, when I'm capable enough, I'll make sure you live the best life possible." I believed him. Everything changed when I turned twenty-eight. Seth Mondale was acknowledged by the Mondale Family, City A's top elite, becoming their long-lost only son. That day, he stood before me in a tailored suit, still handsome, yet with a distance I couldn't quite comprehend. He took my hand, his voice gently familiar: "Melanie, come with me to City A. Be my wife." I packed a simple bag and followed him without hesitation. I believed our happy days had finally arrived. But the glamour of City A, like an invisible web, slowly wrapped around him—and slowly drove us apart. The Mondale Family's rules are rigid, and the unspoken codes within the world of the wealthy are countless. Seth Mondale started attending various social events more frequently, coming home later and later. He stopped sharing his daily life with me, no longer held me close to act spoiled, and rarely even called me "Melanie" anymore. In the empty villa, I felt like a superfluous presence. Later, I heard the rumors. They said the Mondale Family intended to arrange a marriage between Seth Mondale and Tabitha Gable, the heiress of the Gable Family, whose power in military and political circles was vast, and who could help Seth firmly establish himself within the Mondale Family. I ran to ask Seth Mondale. He frowned, his tone tinged with impatience: "Melanie, don't listen to the rumors out there. You're the only one in my heart." But his eyes betrayed him; there was hesitation, there was inner struggle, but the unwavering certainty he once had was gone. He began to grow cold toward me. The homemade dishes I prepared—he claimed they didn't suit his taste. The scarf I knitted for him—he carelessly tossed it onto the sofa. I stayed up waiting for him at night, and he said I was immature, disturbing his rest. I knew—he had changed. The last straw that broke me was that car accident. That day, rain was pouring down in torrents. We were driving to the countryside when, to avoid a runaway big truck, Seth Mondale slammed on the steering wheel. At the critical moment, I leapt forward to shield him. When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed, my whole body aching with pain. The doctor told me that my uterus was severely damaged and that I would never be able to have children again. Seth Mondale sat by my bedside, his eyes red-rimmed, holding my hand as he said, "Melanie, I'm sorry. It's all my fault." I looked at him, tears silently streaming down my cheeks. I thought this disaster would make him change his mind, but I was wrong. After I recovered, he grew even colder toward me, hardly coming to see me anymore. Until one day, he sought me out himself, his face bearing a cruel calm. "Melanie," he said, his voice dry, "Tabitha and I are getting engaged." My whole body went rigid, my fingertips icy cold. "Why?" I heard my voice trembling. "The Mondale Family needs the support of the Gable Family. I can't afford to lose everything I have now." He avoided my eyes. "But I have you in my heart; I don't want you to leave." I laughed, tears streaming down my face. "Seth, what do you want me to do? Be your mistress?"