Blurb：
When Robert’s secretary Emily delivered a mango cake during my pregnancy, I knew it was a message. Mango allergy nearly killed me years ago—Robert’s “celebration” was a cruel joke. I filed for divorce immediately.
Now, Robert ignores our son Liam’s military camp ordeal while Emily plays the perfect substitute mother. But I’ve uncovered their secrets: the lipstick was Emily’s free gift, and Liam’s “training” hides darker plans.
As Robert demands obedience, I strike back. The Roberts underestimated a mother’s wrath. This divorce isn’t an ending—it’s my revenge.
Content：
When I was pregnant with our second child, my husband’s secretary brought over a custom-made mango cake on his behalf.
The moment I saw the mango, I silently booked an appointment for an abortion.
I also had my lawyer draft divorce papers.
When the news reached Robert, he called to demand an explanation.
I laughed softly and said, “Didn’t you have someone send the cake? I agree—let’s get a divorce.”
Robert came home after working late and saw yesterday’s shirt still piled on the sofa.
He frowned almost imperceptibly.
Glancing at me scrolling through my phone, he issued a crisp command,
“Remember to wash my clothes once you’re done.”
In the past, I would take care of all the housework before he even had to ask.
This time, even after he spoke, I didn’t move—I just kept looking at my phone.
He pulled something out of his pants pocket and walked over to me.
He opened his hand.
A limited-edition pink lipstick lay in his palm.
I took it expressionlessly and glanced at it.
Truth is, I never wear makeup and can’t tell the difference between these shades.
He smiled and asked, “So? I thought you’d like it, so I got it for you.”
My finger suddenly paused on a video I was watching.
The ad on screen was for the exact brand of lipstick he’d just given me.
I clicked into it and realized:
That particular pink packaging was the brand’s free gift with purchase.
I couldn’t even be bothered to look at it again. It’s almost over—why make things harder for myself?
An alarm went off, and I took my medication, one pill after another.
I turned to him and said calmly, “The papers are ready. Sign them when you have time.”
He’d sent the mango cake. It would be pathetic to pretend I didn’t understand what that meant.
Robert was a busy man.
I might as well handle drafting the agreement myself. All he needed to do was sign it.
But when he heard, his face darkened.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. Emily didn’t either. The cake was just to celebrate our second child.”
“Don’t overthink it.”
He relaxed onto the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table.
I was about to remind him I’d just cleaned, but stopped myself in time.
We’re getting divorced soon.
Habits are scary things.
When Emily—his childhood best friend—first became his secretary,
I picked fights over everything.
But a year had past, and somehow I’d gotten used to it.
Even when Emily sent photos of them traveling abroad together, I could calmly hit “like”.
Seeing me focused on my phone, Robert said impatiently,
“Haven’t you been to see Liam lately? My sister’s really upset with you. Stop wasting time on useless things and pay more attention on your family.”
My finger froze on the screen.
Liam was our son. The Robert’s family elders took him from birth, talking about providing exclusive ‘heir training’..
Two weeks ago, Emily told me Robert’s family had signed Liam up for a military-style boot camp during the holidays.
I wasn’t allowed to visit.
Robert’s question now clearly indicated he didn’t know about this.
At this point, I couldn’t be bothered to get to the truth.
The Roberts had never been happy with me anyway.
The only thing that made them glad since marrying was that I’d given birth to sweet little Liam.
When I didn’t respond, Robert frown deepened.
“Emily’s visited Liam more times than you have this year. If this keeps up, my sister will come here personally to fetch you..”
I let out a light laugh.
Every time I wanted to be there for my son, Emily snatched the chance away.
No one ever cared whether I was sad about not being able to see him.
The Roberts thought I’d traded my son for a comfortable life.
They probably thought, with no son to bother me, I was living the dream.
Pushing down my emotions, I reminded Robert again:
“The divorce agreement is on your study desk. Remember to sign it when you’re done.”
His face instantly tightened with irritation.
“Haven’t I told you a thousand times? If there was anything between Emily and me, you never would have been in the picture.”
Right. There was nothing between them.
It’s just that they stayed in the same hotel suite on business trips.
It’s just that Robert told my deepest secrets to a woman who coveted my husband.
It’s just that Robert gave his childhood sweetheart all the ammunition she needed
Looking at Robert’s annoyed face now, I smiled and said:
“Don’t worry, I already got rid of the baby.”
“I listen to you. I won’t stand in your way.”
Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked out of the house.
From behind me came his heart-wrenching shout.
“Sophie, if you walk out that door today, don’t ever think about coming back!”
I found out I was pregnant with our second child the very day I hit the five-week mark.
Before I could even feel a flicker of joy,
I received the mango cake, delivered by Emily on Robert’s orders.
Emily smiled sweetly: “Robert’s so busy. He personally ordered this cake for your anniversary and asked me to bring it over.”
I stared at the cake, laden with fresh mango, for a long time.
It didn’t matter who actually sent it anymore.
To me, it was the same.
It was a secret shared only by the younger versions of Robert and me..
Back then, I was the tough girl from the wrong side of the tracks, the one everyone warned others about.
Robert was the new transfer student.
On his very first day, people told him to stay away from me.
But no one knew that my association with the troublemakers was a shield, a way to protect myself.
One afternoon after school, I rescued a cat some kids were about to torture to death.
When I looked up, my eyes still wet with furious tears, I met Robert’s gaze.
He stepped in and helped me cover the vet’s staggering bill.
I could tell he saw me differently than everyone else.
I thanked him quickly and left in a hurry.
But from that day on, he kept showing up around me, almost like fate.
Beaten down by life from a young age, I knew there was an unbridgeable gap between our worlds.
I just wanted to leave a decent impression on him.
But eventually, he saw me at my worst.
My stepdad brought different women home. He’d show up with fresh mangoes,
force them into my mom’s mouth, and make her eat them.
My mom was allergic to mangoes. Eating one would cause her to lose consciousness.
It was his way of making her… compliant, so he could carry on without interference.
It was years before I learned she’d gone into anaphylactic shock.
Watching my mother tremble in her unconscious state, a foolish, youthful bravery took hold of me.
I got into a heated argument with my stepdad that turned physical.
He chased me into a dark alley with a kitchen knife.
That’s where we ran into Robert, who was quietly feeding that same stray cat.
In the end, the police and an ambulance showed up at the same time.
Robert’s face was covered in blood, but he still managed to flash me a grin,
right before passing out, he said to me: “See? The cat’s okay.”
I stayed up all night by his side.
When he woke up, we naturally got together.
Tears in my eyes, I gently touched the bandage on his hand.
“If you ever want to break up, just send me mangoes.”
But eighteen-year-old Robert gently tapped my nose with his good hand.
“Silly girl, then you’ll never taste one again in your life.”
There was another secret I never told him.
I’m severely allergic to mangoes, too.
The next day, my stepdad showed up at school and threatened to have me expelled.
When Robert heard, he rushed to the principle’s office, ignoring his own injuries.
He made a call to his family. Right then and there, he put his own future on the line to save my education.
“If Sophie gets expelled, I’m dropping out too.”
My mind grew fuzzy, the memories of those youthful days feeling more and more distant, like fragments of a dream.
A doctor waved a hand in front of me, pulling me back to the present.
“Mrs.—ahem, Ms. Sophie, your postpartum depression has become severe. It seems to be affecting your daily life.”
I sighed and asked her to increase my dosage.
As my therapist, I’d once confided my past to her.
She listened with a mix of pity and helplessness, ultimately agreeing to respect my wishes for a more conservative treatment plan..
To keep it from Robert, I paid in cash.
After picking up my prescription, I headed out of the clinic when someone bursts through the door, slamming into me. The impact sends me stumbling to the floor, a sharp pain shooting through my arm.
I look up. It’s Robert. But he stood over me, holding Emily securely in his arms.
When he saw me, his eyes filled with disgust.
“You followed me here because I brought Emily? You say you’re not coming home, but everywhere I go, there you are?”
Surprisingly, Emily spoke up for me:
“Sophie was coming out of the hospital—maybe she’s not feeling well. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Then she looked at me with a hint of smugness in her eyes.
“Sorry, Sophie, don’t misunderstand. I’m just not used to wearing high heels, and I twisted my ankle. Robert insisted it was a work injury and brought me to get checked out.”
“He’s always been like this since we were kids. Who knew he’d get even more protective growing up?”
I clearly remember—when she delivered that mango cake,
Emily was wearing 4-inch stilettos and walked like she owned the world.
Like she’d already won.
I frowned, not wanting to engage with either of them.
But Robert’s gaze drops to the pharmacy bag in my hand.
After setting Emily down, he snatched it from me.
A moment later, he sneered: “Postpartum depression? Sophie, if you’re going to act, at least make it believable. You had Liam ages ago. Postpartum depression now? Is your brain slower than everyone else’s?”
I scowled impatiently.
The next second, I grabbed the bag back.
“Yep, you’re right. When you have time, get your brain checked too. Slowness might be contagious.”
I turned to leave without waiting for his response.
But his angry voice rang out behind me:
“Liam took first place in his competition. There’s a family dinner at the estate tonight. Aren’t you coming as his mother?”
I paused for just a second, then kept walking.
Robert started yelling, ready to chase after me, but Emily stopped him.
“Robert, my ankle really hurts…”
Immediately, he changes course, turning back to guide her into the.
After leaving the hospital, I headed to the mall.
I bought myself a decent outfit.
Robert sent me a threatening text:
[If you don’t show up tonight, you don’t deserve to be part of this family!]
I smiled and deleted the message.
Who are you, an unfaithful husband, to decide what I deserve?
To make a fresh impression, I I splurged on a complete hair and makeup session.
Seeing my reflection—I looked ten years younger—felt like gazing into another lifetime.
They say a woman stays young when she’s with the right person. Well, now I know, without anyone telling me, that I chose wrong.
By the time I finished, night had fallen. I caught a cab to the Roberts’ estate.
The Roberts were a big family. Their pre-dinner speeches usually took two hours.
I’d timed it perfectly.
I arrived just as dinner was starting.
The first thing I saw was Liam, sitting between Robert and Emily.
His little cheeks were stuffed with food.
My heart melted.
No matter how my marriage turned out,
my son was the one thing I’d poured my heart into.
Clutching the gift I’d carefully chosen for him, I walked over quickly, a warm, motherly smile on my face.
“Sweetie, congratulations on first place!”
“Mommy got you a present. Do you like it?”
The room fell silent.
Robert’s face darkened instantly.
Liam looked disdainfully at the toy in my hands,
then turned and buried his face in Emily’s arms, giggling at something she whispered to him.
A sharp pang of hurt shot through my chest.
Robert spoke through gritted teeth: “Liam’s competition was a month ago. Tonight is a family dinner!”
The atmosphere turned icy.
Emily jumped in smoothly:
“Robert, don’t be angry. I looked it up—people with severe postpartum depression can have memory issues.”
Robert’s expression darkened further.
The older Roberts glared at me disapprovingly.
After Robert’s parents passed, his sister Helen took charge.
She said coldly:
“Every woman has children. You’re lucky to have married into our family.”
“Not just anyone gets this life. It’s a blessing many would kill for.!”
I’d known since the day I got with Robert that she resented me.
She knew Robert had defied his parents for me.
She blamed their deaths on me.
If not for me, his parents wouldn’t have been so angry, wouldn’t have decided to relocate the company overseas, wouldn’t have been on that ill-fated flight.
Because of that, I’d always held back around her.
As long as I could be with Robert, a little scolding was nothing.
But now, I couldn’t even protect my own son.
Enough was enough.
Looking at Emily’s fake sympathy,
I snapped: “You texted me this afternoon saying Liam wanted this toy.”
“But you and Robert were too busy to buy it, so I waited in line for three hours.”
“To show respect for this dinner, I got my hair and makeup done. Is this how you treat me? Is this my lucky life?”
I raised the toy high and smashed it on the ground.
“This is what you said Liam wanted?”
Robert slammed the table, knocking several glasses to the floor.
They shattered.
“Emily was trying to help! Shouldn’t you know what your own son likes?”
“You don’t work—what are you so busy with that you can’t see your son?”
“Look at yourself—do you even act like a mother?”
“You can skip dinner tonight!”
I smirked and crossed my arms.
I’d never intended to eat this meal anyway. This place had always been my battlefield, never my home.
I turned to leave, but something flew past my face.
A ceramic cup shattered against the wall beside me.
Helen yelled: “You ungrateful brat! How dare you come and go as you please with so many elders here?”
“Do you think this is a marketplace?”
Shards from the cup had cut my cheek.
Blood trickled down my face.
All the resentment I’d bottled up for years finally erupted..
I turned slowly and met Helen’s haughty gaze.
“Respect? You wouldn’t know respect if it hit you. Should I teach you?”
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