I Took Down My Cheating Ex with His Seven Mistresses

Elodie's POV

Nicholas Vanderbilt walked in like a king, convinced the crown still belonged to him.

Arrogant. Unbothered.

Trailing behind was his newest trophy.

Mistress number eight. Fourinch stilettos, lashes heavy enough to shade a room, and a smirk that thought she’d won.

Valerie Smith.

I didn’t even flinch. I was too focused on my poker hand, surrounded by the other seven women he’d once called 'irresistible,' when Nicholas slapped a crisp divorce agreement on the table like it was supposed to shake me.

“Valerie is the love of my life,” he said, chest puffed and eyes full of selfcongratulation. “She’s the only woman worthy to be my wife.”

Without pausing, Nicholas ordered, "Serve her well if you want to live here!"

Then, with that signature arrogance of his, he turned to me and said, “Elodie, draw a bath for her. Wash her feet.”

And to the rest—Rebecca, Jessica, Amanda, Lisa, Hannah, and Cressida—he barked out orders as if we were servants: “Pour her tea. Give her a massage. Make yourselves useful.”

The second mistress, Rebecca, scoffed, slamming her card on the table. “Didn’t he say the same thing when he brought me here?”

Meanwhile, the third mistress, Jessica, gave a slow, pitying nod.

Amanda, the fourth, on the other hand, burst into tears and muttered something about finally leaving.

The others all looked at me, waiting for a signal.

I drew my final card, set it down with a satisfying click, and smiled.

“Well then,” I said, folding my cards. “Let’s all leave together. We’ve made enough over these years, anyway.”

——

One by one, the seven mistresses started packing. It didn’t take long before that sprawling mansion looked like a ghost town, stripped bare.

When Nicholas came back and saw the empty house, he frowned. “Elodie, what kind of game are you playing now?”

I barely glanced up, checking the inventory list. “Just making room for your new favorite.”

This new girl, Valerie Smith, the eighth one, was the poor girl I sponsored back in college.

She wasn’t exceptionally talented, but boy, did she have an attitude.

Taking over my bedroom and ripping up my roses wasn’t enough for her. She also smashed Rebecca’s laptop, broke Jessica’s surgical tools, and killed Amanda’s pet goldfish on purpose.

Living with someone like that? Absolutely not.

I’d rather pack up, take what I’m owed, and get out early than stick around and suffer.

Nicholas had no clue what had actually gone down.

He nodded slowly, his expression softening. “You’ve always been so generous. This must’ve been hard for you. I’ll transfer you $5 million as compensation. And if there’s anything else you need, just say it.”

He looked at me, real hopeful, like he was waiting for me to tear up and whisper, “I don’t want anything… I want to stay with you.”

But as I stared at the extra string of zeros added to my bank account, I almost couldn’t keep from grinning.

I’ve lived this life before. And one thing I’ve learned?

Nicholas Vanderbilt is not someone you bet your future on.

Men can promise the moon, but a platinum bank card that never runs dry?

That’s what keeps you warm at night.

I took a slow breath, straightened up, and said calmly, “I’ve already signed the divorce papers. Rebecca is handling the fasttrack processing of the documents.”

Looking at Nicholas directly in the eye, I sighed and continued, “Don’t worry. None of us is going to get in the way of you and Valerie's happy life.”

Nicholas blinked, confused. “You’re really not even a little upset?”

I raised a brow, my lips curling into something between a smile and a smirk.

Upset? That was me in my last life.

Nicholas was always like this: charming, selfish, and careless.

He brought home his second mistress, Rebecca Clark, after a business trip.

Then Jessica Brown, the third, came from a hospital stay.

Amanda St. James, the fourth? He fell for her while watching a movie.

God, she played with the same name as I have.

In the meantime, he encountered the fifth, Lisa Kensington, in a court case. She was the opposing counsel.

And while out shopping with me, Nicholas somehow managed to scoop up both Hannah Parkinson, the sixth, and Cressida White, the seventh.

Every time, Nicholas would look me dead in the eye and say, “Elodie, don’t worry. We grew up together. No one knows me like you do. You’re my grandfather's chosen legal wife. No one can ever take your place as Mrs. Vanderbilt.”

As the wealthiest man in our elite social circle, he could afford thousands of beauties rotating through his revolving door of lovers.

But me? I’m not doing this again.

Not this time. Not in this life was I given a second chance.

I refuse to be the submissive wife who stays behind managing his circle of lovers.

Nicholas opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say a word, Valerie bounced into his arms, eyes sparkling like she owned the world.

“Nicky, the backyard garden is gorgeous! I want to have the most extravagant wedding there, and I want everyone to see just how beautiful and amazing your future wife really is!”

Elodie's POV

Nicholas reached out and playfully scratched Valerie’s nose.

“All yours,” he said softly, like she was the only thing that mattered.

Then he turned to me, all business.

He ordered, “Elodie, you’re in charge of the wedding. Doesn’t matter what it costs. Just make it grand, luxurious, and tasteful. Just make sure Valerie’s happy.”

Valerie beamed like she’d just been crowned queen of the universe. Her smile was so smug I could practically see it dripping down her chin.

“I heard you were some kind of arranged bride for the Vanderbilts?” she said, cocking her head with fake innocence. “Seriously? In this day and age? People like you still exist? You’re basically a walking relic from the feudal era.”

Valerie gave me a slow onceover, her tone turning syrupysweet. “Unlike Nicholas, I’m not going to baby you or let you freeload.”

“But hey, since you did sponsor me back when I was a nobody, I’ll let you stick around.” She then waved a hand vaguely. “You can be the maid. Or maybe housekeeper. Something humble.”

Behind me, Jessica let out a sharp snort. “You’re not even officially a mistress yet. Let alone a wife. Who do you think you are, acting like you own the place?”

Valerie held up her hand like she’d just won Wimbledon, flashing the diamond ring like it meant something.

“Unlike you freeloaders, I’m Nicholas’s one true love,” she announced. “I manage his schedule, help with the business, and take care of him. I’m useful. That’s more than I can say for any of you.”

Valerie leaned in, eyes sharp as knives. “But hey, I’m not stingy. As long as you play by my rules, I’ll throw you a bone. After all, without this family’s money, you golddiggers wouldn’t last a day.”

With one eyebrow raised, she then haughtily ordered, “Move my bags to my room. I’m off to a candlelit dinner.”

She hooked her arm around Nicholas’s and strutted out like she owned the place, leaving the rest of us staring at each other, mouths slightly open.

Finally, Cressida broke the silence. “What’s she so proud of anyway? That diamond ring’s smaller than mine.”

Rebecca, ever the calm voice of reason, handed me a thick folder.

It was the Vanderbilt Group’s latest financial report.

“She has no idea,” she said coolly. “We’ve been draining Nicholas dry for years. There’s barely anything left.”

Rebecca smiled wryly before adding, “And the company? It’s been bleeding money for years. Bankruptcy’s just around the corner. That big fancy wedding she’s dreaming of? Not happening.”

I shrugged. Honestly? Not my circus anymore.

I was officially divorced. Whatever Nicholas and his new ‘true love’ did from here on out wasn’t my business.

What was my business?

Figuring out how to enjoy my filthyrich, freshly single life.

Step one: buy a private jet.

Step two: plan a world tour.

...

I was halfway through packing when Valerie stormed into my suite, grabbed my suitcase, and flung it straight over the balcony.

A splash echoed from the pool below.

“I told you this room is mine!” she snapped. “Move your stuff to the maid’s quarters!”

Then, as if she were already Nicholas's wife, she directed, “Oh, and while you’re at it, clean this place up and make me a pourover. And don’t forget to apologize.”

I looked her up and down, icecold. “There were two Himalayan salt blocks and a Patek Philippe in that suitcase. How exactly do you plan to compensate me?”

Valerie blanched. A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she covered it fast with another round of theatrics.

“I’m going to be the new Mrs. Vanderbilt,” she said stiffly. “Everything here belongs to me. You’re the exwife! What right do you have to ask for anything?”

Right then, Lisa entered through the doorway, her lawyer’s license shining as she smirked.

“Correction,” she said. “You’re not Mrs. Vanderbilt yet.”

Crossing her arms, Lisa retorted, "So what’s it gonna be? You paying up, or do we go to court and let the press have a field day before your big white wedding?”

Valerie’s face cycled through a stunning rainbow—pale, flushed, red, then a weird blotchy inbetween.

She ripped the necklace off her neck and tossed it in front of me. “Nicholas bought this at a Paris auction. Designed by a worldrenowned artist. Enough?”

I glanced at it, then shifted toward Hannah.

Hannah rolled her eyes, clearly tired of wearing handmedowns.

After all, Valerie was the only one treated like royalty.

She scowled, then fished a bank card out of her clutch.

“There’s $2 million on this,” Valerie haughtily said. “That and the necklace should cover it, right?”

I didn’t say a word. Just shook my head slowly.

Her hands curled into fists. Then, with a visible grimace, she slid the ring off her finger.

Finally. Now we were talking.

Elodie's POV

When I still didn’t flinch, Valerie finally lost it.

“Elodie, don’t think I don’t see through you. You're trying to squeeze money out of me on purpose. You know you’re past your prime, and about to be kicked out of this house, so you’re fishing for a last payout.”

She turned to James, the butler, and snapped, “Call the police. Charge this woman with extortion! Let’s see her rot for it!”

But no one moved. Not James, not the other staff in the villa. They just stood there like statues.

Rebecca, always composed, calmly held out the appraisal certificate in front of Valerie, a halfsmirk playing on her lips.

“That was a Grand Complication from Patek Philippe—minute repeater, masterlevel, $210 million.”

She gave Valerie a onceover, clearly unimpressed. “You’ve been clinging to Nicholas for this long, and you still have no clue about luxury? Pathetic. Honestly, those diamonds? I wouldn’t even stick them on a toilet.”

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Nicholas had spent the past few years lost in his little world of romance and indulgence. He had no idea that the empire he believed he ruled, the properties, the antique collections, and the investments had already been divided among us.

Rebecca handled finance. Jessica ran medical. The rest of the sisters spread across various industries.

We all had our piece.

And once we pulled out?

The Vanderbilt empire would collapse overnight.

The shareholders knew this, too, and that’s why they came to me. They wanted my final decision tonight on what to do with the family’s future.

Unaware of what was truly happening, Valerie was so angry that she couldn't speak. Realizing she couldn’t win against us, she turned her gaze to the maid who had just salvaged my luggage.

Without a word, she slapped her hard across the face, right in front of everyone.

“How dare you help her?! Do you even see me as the future Mrs. Vanderbilt?”

James tried to intervene but got shoved aside by a furious Valerie.

She glared around at all of us, rage simmering in her chest, before storming off with a dramatic door slam.

Of course, she didn’t forget to toss out a threat on her way out. “You’ll all pay for this!”

I knelt and gently helped the crying maid to her feet, slipping a bank card into her hand as compensation.

Then I turned to James with a few calming words. "It's alright, James. Don't worry."

He looked touched, almost overwhelmed.

James expressed, “Ms. Delacroix, you’re far too kind. If it weren’t for you back then, my daughter would’ve died without the money for surgery. I will never forget what you did for us. Never. Whatever you need, anything, I’ll be there.”

I smiled. “Let’s not go overboard with the ‘lay down your life’ talk. But thank you.”

Still, I had a feeling that little scene wasn’t going to go away quietly.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Nicholas barged in, face dark with fury, demanding answers.

“Elodie, I thought you were gentle and reasonable. But this? Plotting behind my back, turning everyone against Valerie? I’m so disappointed in you. You need to take those seven sisters of yours. Apologize. Or I’ll kick all of you out.”

I met his gaze, perfectly calm. “Do you even know what your favorite mistress destroyed today?”

Nicholas was dumbfounded.

I stepped closer to him and said, “It's the watch you begged your grandfather for when we got married. Remember? That was the symbol of our marriage.”

Back then, Nicholas had been so deeply in love with me.

He spent three consecutive days and nights camped in front of his grandfather Gilbert Vanderbilt's property to acquire the watch.

When he finally got it, he gave it to me along with this entire rosecovered villa.

He promised me his love would be like the roses—eternal, blooming through every season, and that his love would stand the test of time.

But now? The roses have withered.

The watch was waterlogged and stopped ticking.

And Nicholas? He’s long forgotten that vow.

I let out an exasperated breath. “You know what? Never mind. That was a lifetime ago.”

Nicholas stood there stunned, maybe even a little shaken, as if he wanted to say something.

But before he could, Valerie burst into tears. “I know I wasn’t born with status or wealth. I get that I’m not everyone’s favorite. But I love Nicholas so much!”

Wiping her fake tears, she said, “I’m not like those other women, the ones who lounge around and live off men. I want to support him. I want to ease his burdens.”

Elodie's POV

“Nicholas has carried the weight of this entire family on his back, and what have you done?” Valerie’s voice cracked, theatrical and trembling. “Treated him like a bottomless ATM. Has anyone ever made him feel like he belongs? Has anyone ever truly loved him?”

Her hand brushed Nicholas’s cheek like she was petting something fragile and broken, and tears poured down her face, steady, practiced, like she’d rehearsed this moment in a mirror.

“Nicholas, I’m here because I love you more than anything in this world. If Elodie can’t accept that, then I’ll prove it to you with my life.”

Then, without warning, she darted for the window.

First floor or not, Nicholas panicked. Lunged. He caught her midsprint and held her like she might actually shatter.

For a split second, he looked terrified, like he'd almost lost a limb.

Then the switch flipped.

His eyes darkened, and in one smooth motion, he snatched a crystal vase off the table and hurled it straight at me.

It hit.

I felt the sting before I even saw the blood.

“Look at what you’ve done, you spiteful, jealous woman!” he yelled, his voice hoarse with rage. “How could I have been so blind to marry someone like you?”

Nicholas pointed at the broken glass and the woman sobbing in his arms.

Then he declared, “This house belongs to Valerie now. You’re not welcome here. Get out.”

This house... our house.

The year we were in love, Nicholas swore we’d grow old together, where he picked out the paint colors with me and told me which wing we’d turn into a nursery.

Now, for a woman who just tried to throw herself out the window, he was throwing me out instead.

I looked down. Blood from my cheek was dripping onto the polished marble floor.

I nodded, slow and numb.

“Alright,” I said softly. “I’ll go.”

But, Nicholas, can you really afford what it’ll cost to push me out?

...

By the time I made it downstairs, the seven mistresses were already waiting in the living room.

Jessica gasped the second she saw me. “Jesus, Elodie! Your face!”

She darted off to grab the first aid kit. The rest closed in around me, their eyes sharp, their jaws tight.

“This isn’t just words anymore,” Rebecca muttered. “He’s crossed a line. He’s gone fullon abusive.”

“Yeah,” Amanda said, her voice shaking with fury. “You can’t let this slide. He laid hands on you, El.”

For all his recklessness, Nicholas had always known where the invisible line was.

He spoiled us like collectibles—pretty, expensive, and replaceable—but he never damaged the goods.

But now?

Now he had Valerie whispering poison in his ear and fire in his veins.

And birds of a feather always find their kind.

I sat down carefully as Jessica began cleaning the cut on my cheek. The sting was nothing compared to the dull ache behind my ribs.

I took a deep breath and said, steady and clear, “Do you know why Nicholas can get away with this?”

Hannah and Cressida didn’t miss a beat.

“Because he’s a bastard!” they snapped in perfect harmony.

I gave a tiny smile, then shook my head. “No. It’s because he’s the heir to the Vanderbilt fortune.”

Money made him untouchable. Money built the pedestal he stood on and fed the illusion that he could never fall.

He was a man born on third base, convinced he’d hit a triple.

He never learned to value anything, especially not love.

I glanced upstairs in the direction he’d stormed off and said inwardly, 'But it’s alright. Sooner or later, he’ll learn,'

As Jessica carefully bandaged my face while I sat on the couch, the front door opened once more.

Valerie strutted in like she was walking a runway, her wrist heavy with new jewelry.

She stopped in the middle of the room and smiled like a wolf in silk.

“I’ve cut off your allowance,” she announced. “You’re nothing now. Just wait till you’re out there starving on the street.”

I exchanged a look with the Seven Roses and smiled quietly to myself.

In this mansion, she’s the only one living off a monthly allowance of $100,000.

The rest of us have our businesses and incomes.

Valerie mistook my silence for surrender.

She snorted coldly, spun on her heel, and hooked her arm around Nicholas, dragging him off to the shop.

“Let’s go,” she purred. “I want to hit Cartier before they close.”

...

My phone started buzzing an hour later.

Photos. Videos. Stories.

Nicholas splurged like a man with no limits, buying whatever Valerie desired—handbags, jewelry, wedding gowns, diamond rings. If she wanted it, he swiped his card without hesitation.

Then came the suite photos. Presidential. Penthouse.

Ten boxes of condoms were stacked on the bedside table like party favors.

And there she was, Valerie Smith, draped in a wedding gown, waving a deposit slip like it was her golden ticket.

Elodie's POV

“There’s really no way around it,” Valerie cooed, twirling a strand of hair as she sank into the velvet armchair. “Nicholas loves me too much. It’s kind of tragic for you, isn’t it?”

She swept her arm theatrically toward the dozens of luxury shopping bags cluttering the room like confetti after a parade. “Our wedding’s next week—every last detail planned to perfection. Meanwhile, you and the other seven mistresses? You’ll be stuck wandering through empty rooms, forgotten.”

“You’ll never set foot in the Vanderbilt family again,” Valerie sneered. “But if you get on your knees and beg, maybe I’ll be generous enough to toss you some leftovers—just enough to keep you afloat.”

She made a show of glancing around the room, where glossy shopping bags lined the floor like trophies, as if to remind me exactly who was living the high life now.

What she didn’t know—what she couldn’t even fathom—was that I owned the entire mall she’d just ransacked.

Every single dollar Nicholas spent on her little princess fantasy?

It looped right back to me.

Let her drown in handbags. I’ll cash the profits.

Just then, James stepped forward, bowing respectfully.

In his gloved hands were the divorce papers.

“Ms. Delacroix,” he said, calm and polished as ever, “everything is in order. When do you plan to depart?”

Valerie had, of course, ordered the driver and staff not to lift a finger for me.

Petty power move.

But James was loyal and far from stupid.

Outside, eighteen sleek black limousines lined the driveway, flanked by over a hundred bodyguards in suits.

Not just a sendoff. A statement.

I glanced at the clock and stood, adjusting my coat.

The Vanderbilt Group’s shareholders had been waiting at the mountainside villa.

Behind me, the seven mistresses followed, their heels clicking across the marble like war drums.

Rebecca’s voice cut through the hallway like a blade. “Nicholas got away with too much for too long. It’s payback time.”

Amanda sniffled, trying to hold it together. “Valerie’s vicious, El. After you leave, we don’t know what she’ll do to us.”

“Better we walk out on our own terms,” Cressida added, arms crossed. “I'm not going to wait around to get shoved out.”

I paused, watching them. These women weren’t just friends. They were battletested.

I lifted a hand and gave a slight nod.

“Alright,” I said. “We go together.”

And just like that, Nicholas and I were over. Not with a tear, not with a scream, but with just clean, precise closure.

I turned to James one last time.

“There’s one more favor,” I said quietly. “And it’s not something I can bring with me.”

James inclined his head.

I continued, “Keep an eye on Nicholas. Whether he dies tangled up in Valerie’s bed or wakes up chasing his tenth mistress, I don’t care. Just make sure he never shows his face in front of us again.”

James then gave a solemn nod as we stepped into the cars.

After that, the convoy pulled out of the estate like a fleet of warships, slicing through the city with a quiet, unstoppable force.

I leaned back into the leather seat, eyes drifting closed for a moment.

After tonight, the wealthiest man in the city won’t be a Vanderbilt.

Whatever mess Nicholas made of the empire, he and his blushing bride can mop it up together.

...