The Shared Lover: A Wife's Humiliation

I thought my husband cheating on me was the biggest joke of my life.

Until he brought his mistress home, and my father-in-law, who was over fifty, furiously pounced on him.

"Try laying a finger on her, I dare you!" Julio James snarled at his own son.

Father and son brawled on the spot over a woman, and I became the most awkward audience in this rich family's farce.

The next day, the headline "Father and Son Share a Mistress" went viral.

Overnight, I, Mrs. James, became the city's favorite pity case and its biggest joke.

...

The villa door was locked from the outside.

The James family's reputation mattered more than what their daughter-in-law felt.

Julio held court in his usual chair, a cigar smoldering between his fingers.

Next to him on the sofa sat the girl, Fernanda Francis.

She was dressed in a faded cotton dress, her hair all soft and straight, face clean with this delicate, breakable vibe.

My husband, Mathew James, stood in the middle of the room, a bright red handprint on his cheek.

"Dad, have you lost it? You hit me? For some outsider?"

Julio didn't even look up. "She's staying here now. Sharon, you teach her the rules."

He finally mentioned me.

I stepped out from the shadow of the staircase. My eyes swept over Fernanda.

She peeked at me, then quickly dropped her gaze, her shoulders shaking just a little.

"Julio, there are no spare rooms," I said.

Julio paused his cigar. "Then she takes Mathew's study."

"No way!" Mathew exploded. "Dad, what the hell are you playing at?"

"Shut it." Julio's voice went flat and cold. "Sharon. Take her up."

I didn't move.

The air got thick.

Fernanda's eyes reddened, tears welling up.

"Mr. James, maybe I should just go. I don't want to cause more trouble between you two."

She said she was going to leave, but her feet were glued to the floor.

Julio's face darkened. He looked right at me. "Sharon, are you deaf?"

I walked over to Fernanda and gestured.

"Ms. Francis. With me."

My playing along made the anger in Mathew's eyes twist into something like disappointment.

It also eased Julio's scrutinizing gaze a bit.

I led Fernanda upstairs and pushed open the study door.

She stood at the doorway, not entering immediately, but instead turned to look at me.

"Mrs. James, you're so kind." Her voice was soft and gentle.

"I'm not kind," I shot back, looking her dead in the eyes. "I just know how to survive in this family better than Mathew does."

Fernanda's fragile expression instantly froze.

I shut the door on her.

Back downstairs, Mathew was gone and probably locked in a room somewhere.

Julio was alone on the sofa.

He waved me over.

"Sit, " he said.

I sat opposite him.

"Sharon, I know you're upset." He exhaled a puff of smoke. "But you have to bear this. For the James family, and for yourself."

"I don't understand, " I said.

"You don't need to get it." Julio's eyes turned sharp. "You just need to remember one thing. From today, Fernanda is the most untouchable person in this house. She's more important than me, more important than Mathew."

The weight of those words sent a shiver down my spine.

This wasn't just some messy affair anymore.

This was a war I didn't understand.

The next day, Fernanda showed up for breakfast wearing a custom silk dress from my closet.

My mom had it specially made for me by an esteemed tailor in Sueville. And it was one of a kind.

She was sitting at the table, wearing it.

Julio's eyes lingered on her for a solid three seconds, and he looked approving.

Mathew's face was dark. He slammed his fork down, milk sloshing over the edge of his glass.

"Who said you could touch her things?"

Fernanda flinched, her eyes instantly welling up. "I... I had nothing else to wear. I saw this dress just hanging there, so I..."

"Take it off," Mathew's voice was ice-cold.

I picked up my napkin and dabbed my mouth slowly.

"Let it go, Mathew. It's just a dress. No big deal."

My generosity only pissed him off more.

He thought I was being a spineless doormat.

He didn't get it. A dress was a cheap way to test how far Julio would let this girl go.

"Sharon's right," Julio cut in. "It's just a piece of clothing. Stop making a scene. It looks nice on her."

He looked at Fernanda, his expression softer than I'd ever seen it.

"Tell the butler what you like. From now on, you're like a lady in this house."

Fernanda's tears vanished. She smiled shyly. "Thank you, Mr. James."

That breakfast tasted like ash.

Afterwards, Julio left for the office.

Mathew dragged me into the bedroom and locked the door.

"Sharon, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you blind? Dad's lost it!"

"I saw."

"And you're just cool with it? That woman is wearing your clothes!"

I walked to the window. Down in the garden, Fernanda was talking to the gardener.

In the sunlight, her smile looked pure and innocent.

"Mathew, you can't win against your dad," I said. "And neither can I."

"So we just take it? Let them do whatever they want right under our noses?"

"What's your plan? Throw another punch like yesterday and get locked up again?"

Mathew punched the wall. His knuckles were red and swollen instantly.

"Help me." He grabbed my hand, his grip terrifyingly tight. "Sharon, we're married. Help me get her out. If you help me, I swear I'll never..."

I pulled my hand back.

"Mathew, don't you get it yet?" I looked at him. "The problem isn't her. And it's not even you. It's your dad."

"Why? Why is he protecting her?"

I shook my head.

That was what I wanted to know too.

In the afternoon, my mother-in-law came back.

She looked like she'd just come from a card game, covered in jewels but couldn't hide the tiredness on her face.

The butler filled her in on the "new family member."

She listened, her face a complete blank. Just a quiet, "Hmm."

She stopped as she passed me.

"Sharon, come with me."

She took me to the prayer room on the third floor.

The scent of sandalwood was calming, yet chilling.

She knelt on a cushion, not looking at me.

"This family looks like a golden palace. But it's a cage." Her voice was quiet. "Don't fight. Don't grab. Don't be curious. Curiosity killed the cat."

"Mom, I... "

"You can't handle Julio's business." She cut me off. "Just do your job as Mrs. James, and no one can shake your position."

It was a warning and maybe a kind of protection.

She knew something. But she wasn't talking.

When I left the prayer room, I ran right into Fernanda.

She was holding a bowl of freshly stewed nourishing soup.

"Mrs. James," she smiled. "I made this for Julio myself."

She smiled at me, but her eyes darted to the prayer room behind me. "Madam is back?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll deliver the soup to Madam later."

She brushed past me. The hem of her dress swept against my calf.

I caught a familiar scent.

It wasn't perfume. It was a kind of herbal medicine.

I remembered.

I'd smelled it before in Julio's study.

Julio suffered from severe insomnia and relied on a special calming incense to sleep.

The main ingredient in that recipe was this exact smell.

How would a girl from rural areas, an art student, know about that?

I started keeping a closer eye on Fernanda.

She was sharp, or maybe just incredibly careful.

She never openly challenged me. With me, she acted almost overly respectful, borderline sucking up.

She'd have afternoon tea ready for me, remembered what kind of pastries I liked.

She played the role of the humble younger woman perfectly.

But her eyes were always quietly sizing up everyone in the house.

Mathew was cold to her, so she kept her distance and never provoked him.

My mother-in-law acted like Fernanda didn't exist, so Fernanda never bothered her.

All her energy was focused on Julio.

She knew everything about Julio.

His favorite coffee, his favorite dishes, even which parts of opera he liked to listen to.

She was like a walking, talking Julio manual.

That was just plain weird.

How could a girl in her early twenties know an older guy in his fifties inside out?

No way that was just "love at first sight" or "growing on you."

There had to be something deeper going on.

I started digging through old family photo albums.

There weren't many pictures of a young Julio, mostly corporate event shots.

I went through them one by one, looking for any connection to Fernanda.

In a heavy album, I found a faded black-and-white photo.

A young Julio stood in front of a theater stage, next to a woman in an opera costume.

Her face was blurry, but her eyes looked a lot like Fernanda's.

My heart skipped a beat.

I slipped the photo into my pocket.

That night, Mathew came home drunk again.

He barged into my room, reeking of alcohol.

"Sharon, tell me the truth. Am I useless?"

He leaned against the door, his eyes unfocused. "My dad... the woman I love... I can't handle either."

The woman he referred to wasn't me, but I chose not to reveal that I knew.

"You just haven't found the right way," I said.

"What way?" he asked, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Do you have a plan? You must have a plan!"

I took the photo from my pocket and handed it to him.

"Do you know this woman?"

Mathew squinted at it for a long time, then shook his head.

"No. Who is it?"

"Look at her eyes. Closely."

He looked again, and his whole body jolted.

"Fernanda?" he blurted out. "How is that possible? This photo has to be thirty years old!"

"It's not Fernanda," I said. "But she's connected to Fernanda. Somehow."

Mathew sobered up fast.

He stared at the photo, then at me, his face a mix of shock and confusion.

"Who is she, then?"

"I don't know." I said, taking the photo back. "But I bet your dad does."

Just then, someone knocked on the door.

It was Fernanda.

"Mr. James, are you in there? Your father wants to see you in his study."

Mathew's face darkened instantly.

He yanked the door open. Fernanda was standing there, holding a cup of coffee.

She seemed surprised to see me, then gave an innocent smile.

"Oh, Mrs. James, you're here too. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Her words were perfectly polite, but full of implication.

Mathew snorted, pushed past her, and stomped downstairs.

Fernanda watched him go, a hint of triumph in her eyes.

Then she looked back at me, smile still in place.

"Goodnight, Mrs. James."

She turned and left, her dress swishing.

I had a hunch.

A big drama was unfolding in Julio's study.

That was where the truth behind this whole mess would come out.