When My Identity Gets Exposed, My Ex-husband Regrets!

I was married to Victor Preston for three years. My only wish was to warm his heart and make him fall in love with me.

When I drove to the airport, I encountered a collapsed bridge on the way. I was the only survivor.

When I was lying in the hospital with injuries all over my body and called him, each call ended the same way by the sound, "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later."

In my moment of greatest need, the man I had been married to for three years had not even reached out to me. Soon, a heavy wave of disappointment settled in my chest, with tears blurring my vision.

I staggered toward the hospital lobby on crutches, and when I saw Victor, my heart nearly stopped. He was carrying a woman tenderly into the obstetrician's office, his face filled with concern for her.

From his comforting words, I learned that the woman was pregnant with his child three months ago.

Three months ago, his itinerary report did show a weeklong business trip.

Three years of marriage, and I had never seen this side of him.

That night, I packed my luggage, left the divorce agreement, and left calmly.

Ironically, after my true identity was revealed, Victor ended up begging me not to leave and asking for my forgiveness.

That morning, I should go to San Francisco for business trip, but I never imagined my journey would turn into a nightmare.

As I drove to the airport, the bridge that I crossed suddenly collapsed. I instinctively reached for my phone to call my husband, Victor Preston, but he didn’t answer any of my calls. The rest was a blur, and when I regained consciousness, I was in a hospital room.

When the bridge collapsed, I was the only survivor.

The whole nation was shaken by the news; Yet, in my moment of need, the man I had been married to for three years was nowhere to be found. Disappointment washed over me once again, even the bruises and injuries on my body was nothing compared to the ache in my heart at that moment.

After a long time, finally, my phone rang. I grabbed it, my heart racing with hope. But when I saw the caller ID, my heart sank.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice hoarse from the strain.

It was Victor’s mother. Her voice was thick with concern. “Earlene, you scared me to death! Are you alright? Is Victor with you?”

“He’s on a business trip in Los Angeles, Mom,” I replied.

“But I heard you were both on a business trip to San Francisco. Was it just you on the car?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion.

I was just as puzzled. If Victor was indeed in Los Angeles, why hadn’t his family been informed? Why the secrecy?

But I knew my role in the family, covering up for Victor was expected. To prevent her from worrying further, I lied, “We were supposed to go together, but Victor had an urgent matter in Los Angeles, so we took separate cars.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, seemingly grateful that Victor hadn’t been on the doomed disaster.

“Which hospital are you at? I’ll send the butler to bring you home immediately,” she said.

After sharing my location, the call ended.

I knew that recuperating at Preston Manor would be far better than staying in the hospital. Besides, my presence in the Preston family was a secret not meant for public knowledge.

Despite my injuries, I still had work to do. As a Marketing Director, my trip to San Francisco was meant to represent the company and ensure the success of a major partnership. That was why, I needed to report the accident and update the company as soon as possible.

More urgently, I needed to know what Victor was up to. Was he really in Los Angeles, or was it just another lie?

Since it was quite often for him to hide something these days, including his onemonth trip three month ago.

I must find him and find out everything!

With no hesitation, I left the ward, hobbling towards the payment counter while calling my assistant, instructing her to report my condition to the company.

As I did, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure sprinting across the lobby. It was Victor, my husband, the CEO of Preston Group.

My husband was rushing toward the obstetrician’s office with a woman in his arms. She was draped in a suit, her legs wrapped in his black coat, visibly bleeding.

He held her with such care, a tenderness that sent a jolt of pain through my heart.

Even when I had my second miscarried a month ago, Victor had never shown this level of concern. When I cried out in agony, there wasn’t a trace of worry or sadness on his face.

“Has he been cheating on me?” I muttered under my breath, the realization hitting me like a punch to the gut.

After completing the hospital’s discharge procedures, I found Victor outside the room, his face clouded with worry. My voice trembled as I confronted him, “Victor, who is she?”

He turned, his expression hardening when he saw me.

“Why are you here? You were supposed to leave for San Francisco today,” he snapped, his eyes darting around nervously.

Before I could answer, he demanded, “Are you following me?”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

“Do you think I have nothing better to do? I was treated here and saw you with my own eyes, rushing through the lobby in a panic.” My voice was soft, but each word was sharp and clear.

Victor’s gaze shifted to the crutches supporting me, his tone cold and devoid of the concern he had shown earlier.

“What happened to you?”

I stared at him, feeling a wave of despair. It was clear he was more worried about the woman in the examination room than my shattered state.

“You sent me to San Francisco just to hide your affair with her, didn’t you?” I accused, my voice breaking.

The truth was unavoidable. Clearly, our three years of marriage had been futile.

He even rarely touched me since my first miscarriage two years ago. We indeed shared a room but slept in separate beds.

Victor quickly covered my mouth with his hand, his voice a harsh whisper, “She isn’t a mistress. I’ve known her for over ten years.”

His words hung in the air. I suddenly recalled what his mother had told me shortly after our wedding, about his first love from high school.

So, it must be her.

But when remembering that the woman was sent to the obstetrician, could she be pregnant then?

I looked up at Victor, my voice laced with bitter realization as I asked, “So, you’ve gone back to her?”

Victor remained silent, his eyes shifting, scanning the hallway for onlookers or anyone recording our argument.

“Fine, let’s get divorce. Three years of loving you without ever having it returned is enough. After all, I’ve helped your company grow like I promise, and at least I am the secondlargest shareholder now,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. He mocked me, “Don’t fool yourself. When we divorce, everything you have will go back to my family.”

Suddenly, the doctor called his name, and just as he turned to go, Victor leaned in close, his words a cruel whisper, “By the way, I’m a father now. Get our divorce sorted, and I’ll sign it as soon as I get home.”

Then, he walked into the room, leaving me standing there, stunned and alone.

Had he married me only to fulfill some twisted plan?

I got into the car that the butler had sent for me, my mind drifting back to the early days, back when everything was so different.

Victor and I first crossed paths at MIT University. He was my senior, someone I admired from a distance, a reliable mentor figure.

But my feelings for him changed during my internship at Preston’s company. By then, Victor had already taken on the role of Vice President while continuing his studies. He was driven, charismatic, and every bit the man who could lead a company.

Months went by, and I kept my feelings for him hidden, unsure if he saw me as anything more than a work colleague.

Then, one day, everything changed. Victor’s parents approached me first.

I remember the moment vividly. The secretary of Victor's father came to my desk and asked, “Are you Earlene, the intern from the Marketing Team?”

“Yes, I am,” I replied, my heart pounding.

I feared I had done something wrong, but I couldn’t think of any mistakes. My work had always been praised; in fact, many higherups had hinted at offering me a permanent position after graduation.

The secretary then said, “President Preston requests your presence in his office.”

I was filled with anxiety and curiosity. What could they possibly want with me?

Then, when I stepped into the office, I was surprised to see President Preston, his wife, and Victor all waiting for me.

“Here she is, our future daughterinlaw,” President Preston greeted me with a broad smile.

I froze, confusion written all over my face. ‘Daughterinlaw? What could he possibly mean by that?’ I wondered.

As the conversation unfolded, it became clear. They believed I was the perfect match for their son, a woman who could not only support him but also help build their family’s empire. Victor seemed as surprised as I was, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable.

But Victor’s parents were determined to have me as their daughterinlaw. They saw in me a valuable asset, someone who could help secure the future of the Preston Group.

They didn’t want Victor marrying into another wealthy family after all, because they didn’t want to share their precious shares. They wanted someone like me, an intelligent, hardworking woman who had proven her loyalty to the company.

As a result, we married after I graduated from MIT.

But there were conditions. Until we had a child, our marriage was to be kept under wraps; only a handful of people within the company knew that I was Victor’s wife.

Despite the secrecy, I was happy. I loved Victor, and being his wife was enough for me. I dedicated myself to the company, to him, hoping that, in time, he would come to love me too.

At first, our marriage was awkward. Victor was distant, cold.

However, when I got pregnant, things started to change. He began to show a side of him I hadn’t seen before, a tenderness, a softness. Yet, I always sensed that his newfound affection wasn’t entirely for me.

But then I lost the baby in the fourth month, resulting the little warmth he had shown vanished entirely. He became colder, more distant. His parents expressed their regrets, but Victor’s reaction was muted, almost indifferent.

As a result, I buried myself in work, trying to ignore the pain of his coldness and the emptiness inside me.

However, on our third wedding anniversary, driven by desperation, I decided to take a bold step. I slipped a stimulant into his drink, hoping it would break down the walls between us.

As the effects of the drink began to take hold, Victor's expression darkened. He knew something was off, especially when my hands began to wander across his body.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice tight with anger.

I leaned closer, my lips brushing against his skin.

“I’m just fulfilling my duties as your wife,” I whispered, my voice heavy with longing.

“How dare you!” he growled, his muscles tensing.

But the drink had dulled his resistance, and soon his desire took over. As his breathing grew heavier, he gave in, his hands roaming my body with a hunger I had never felt from him for almost two years.

“Is this what you want?” he said between ragged breaths, his tone a mix of anger and desire.

I nodded.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if I’m rough.”

For a moment, I felt a connection, however forced, as if this was how it was supposed to be.

But as the effects of the stimulant began to wear off an hour later, Victor abruptly pushed me away.

“You’re disgusting, Earlene!” he spat, his voice filled with revulsion.

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Is it so disgusting to want my own husband?” I asked, my voice trembling with pain.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes cold and unyielding.

The brief moments of closeness we had shared were nothing more than a cruel illusion, a result of the drug, not any real affection.

“You’re cruel, Victor!” I cried out, my heart shattering.

He quickly gathered his clothes, putting them on hastily. “Have you forgotten how you became Mrs. Preston?” he asked, his tone sharp.

I would never forget. I was chosen for this role, not out of love, but out of a calculated decision to secure an heir and the future of the company. That was why, the harsh reality of my situation was clearer than ever at that moment.

I chuckled softly, the sound bitter, “No, I haven’t forgotten. But your parents want a grandchild too, don’t they?”

My face flushed with anger. If it hadn’t been for the forced smile on my lips, I might have looked like a ghost escaped from hell.

“I can still give them a grandchild, even if it’s not from you,” he said.

Those words haunted me so suddenly. Only then did I understand what he meant back then.

After that night, I indeed was success on getting pregnant. But under Victor’s coldness and my chaos mental health condition, I lost the baby again in my seven weeks pregnancy.

“This can’t go on,” I whispered to myself, my resolve hardening.

Finally, we had arrived at Preston Manor. The butler who had picked me up opened the car door and said, “Mrs. Preston, we’ve arrived. Do you need help getting out?”

“No, thank you,” I replied, my voice firm.

After getting out of the car, I said again, “Thank you for taking care of me all this time.”

Then, I made my way to the elevator and headed to my room. I opened the drawer containing the divorce papers I had prepared a few days after my miscarriage.

Back then, I was hesitant, clinging to the hope that I could win Victor's love back. But then, all of my doubts had vanished. I was done dedicating myself to the Preston family.

I signed the divorce papers with a steady hand, then placed them on Victor’s desk in the study. After packing my things, I took a taxi back to my family’s manor.

When I arrived, my mother was the first to greet me. She burst into tears as soon as she saw my condition.

“Oh my God, Earlene. I was about to visit you when I saw the news about the bridge collapsed accident on TV,” she cried.

I could not help crying when meeting my mother. All of the depression I had buried for three years had been poured so suddenly.

“Sweetheart, you must feel scared today. Come inside, I’ll call the doctor and nurse to take care of you,” my mother said again.

In the evening, my father and brother came home from the office to see me. My father was still the President of Grant Group, while my brother, Gavin, was the CEO of Grant City Mall, a branch of our family's business empire.

Our family had been billionaires since my greatgrandfather’s time, while Preston family had only risen to prominence during his father's leadership.

That was one of the reasons my family had opposed my marriage to Victor from the start. But I had ignored their warnings, believing in my choice.

Gavin Grant, my older brother, was the first to mock me, “So, this is the result of your sincere love, sister?”

I snorted in annoyance, but my mother scolded him, “Don’t tease your sister. It’s a miracle she survived the accident and chose to come back home.”

My father, ever the stern figure, said in his usual firm tone, “Leave us alone.”

My mother, who had been holding my hand and listening to my grievances, gently let go. Then, she whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll scold your father twice as much as he scolds you, okay?”

I nodded, reassuring her not to worry. I was ready for whatever consequences awaited me.

When it was just my father and me, he spoke directly. “Are you two officially divorced?”

I replied, “Not yet, but I have signed the papers, and he has agreed.”

My father sighed, whether in relief or exasperation, I couldn’t tell. After a long silence, he finally said, “Rest until you’re fully recovered, not just your body, but your mind as well.”

He turned to leave the room, but I stopped him.

“Dad, I am sorry for my mistakes. From now on, I will do everything as you say.”

He paused, then turned back to me with a smirk. “I heard from Gavin that you decided to cut off all cooperation between Grant and Preston, including removing the Preston brand from our Grant City Mall. Is that true?” he asked.

I nodded and explained, “Yes. After all, it was me who handled all those deals over the past three years.”

“You know it won’t be easy, right? So, once you’re recovered, work under your brother and manage everything properly. As for the space left by Preston, replace it with a better brand.

“Oh, you don’t forget about your own brand that you’ve been developing for the past five years, do you? Is it good enough to compete with Preston?”

My father’s words were rapidfire, making my already dizzy head spin even more.

“You’re giving me a lot of work, Dad,” I complained, my tone playful despite my fatigue.

He sneered, “If you can’t handle it, you could always go back to Preston.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll start tomorrow,” I relented.

“In this condition?” my father asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

It seemed he had forgotten just how capable his daughter was after three years apart.

I replied confidently, “The only thing that injured is my legs, but I believe it will be fine in few days. My hands can still move, and my brain is still working just fine. So, don’t worry about it.”

The next day, I decided to make my departure from Preston official. I sent my resignation letter via email to the HR department, using my Preston staff email.

Then, using my Grant Group email, I sent a file contained the cancelation cooperation agreement with Preston, citing the failure to meet sales targets.

I knew every weakness Preston had. After all, I had been the one handling their external partnerships for the past three years.

I couldn’t help but imagine the look on Victor’s face when he discovered what I had done. He could easily replace me as his wife, but finding someone to replace my role in the company would not be so simple.

Sure enough, the day after, Victor called me. As soon as I answered, his angry voice boomed through the phone, “I agreed to the divorce, but I won’t accept your resignation. You need to finish your business at the office first.”

I sneered, “That wasn’t the agreement, Mr. Preston. Once we’re divorced, I’m no longer part of the Preston family, nor am I your employee.

“Enjoy the show, Victor.”

With that, I hung up and promptly blocked his number.

Once I had recovered, I made my way to the Grant Group office. Gavin had prepared a new office for me and even assigned me a new assistant, Jenny Starks, who had been my assistant at Preston.

Surprised, I turned to Gavin. “How did you manage to get Jenny here?”

Gavin grinned while explaining, “Surprised? She was my spy at Preston all along. I deliberately placed her as your assistant. Now, she’s the only one you can trust completely. Besides, you two make a great team, don’t you?”

I sighed, shaking my head at my brother’s cunningness. “Thank you for thinking ahead, Gavin.”

After settling in, I decided to visit Grant City Mall. I had always gone there representing Preston for three years, but that day, I was returning as its owner.

As we made our way through the mall, Jenny suddenly whispered behind me, “Miss Grant, have you met Mr. Preston’s new wife?”

“New wife? So, they’re married already?” I asked, more out of curiosity than hurt.

“Yes, everyone knows she’s pregnant too,” Jenny replied.

I nodded, feeling indifferent to the news. After all, Victor’s life was no longer any of my concern.

But as we continued walking, someone bumped into my shoulder, quite deliberately. To my surprise, she stumbled so bad to the floor.

“Ouch… Why did you bump into me?” the woman said, her voice dripping with shamelessness.

When I saw her face, I was taken aback. It was Margareth Alexander, a colleague and a close friend from my internship days at Preston. I bent down, intending to offer her a hand, but Jenny’s whisper stopped me.

“She’s Mr. Preston’s new wife,” she murmured.

“What?”

Margareth smirked, then dramatically pretended to struggle to stand, playing the part of a weak woman bullied by me. She had even brought someone along to record the whole scene.

“You must be angry because I stole your husband,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes as she tried to hug me.

I gently pushed her away, but she fell backward again and began to cry.

All around us, people stared at me as if I were a cruel villain.

‘What a cunning vixen,’ I muttered in my heart. But then, I sighed and said to Jenny, "Give her some compensation. I don't have time for her theatrics."

As I turned to leave, Margareth suddenly grabbed my injured leg, the one still healing from the bridge collapsed accident I was in a week ago.

Pain shot through me, but I stood my ground, waiting to see what act she would put on next.

"I'm sorry, Earlene. I didn't mean to deceive you. But if it weren't for you, I would have married Victor long ago. We've liked each other for the past ten years," she cried, tears streaming down her face.

It was astonishing. That woman had just thrown herself to the ground without a second thought, showing no concern for her socalled pregnancy. Then, she was playing the victim card, making me out to be the villain in this whole charade.

Before I could respond, a familiar voice crackled through a phone.

"What are you doing, Earlene?" Victor's voice rang out.

It turned out that Margareth's accomplices who had been recording, had switched it to a video call.

"First, you sabotage my family's business, and now you're pushing Margareth? Are you trying to make her miscarry?"

Questions flew from the phone, but I just smiled and gave Margareth a small, deliberate kick, forcing her to release her grip on my leg.

"Well, if I'm already being accused, I might as well live up to it," I said coolly.

I could hear Victor's outrage on the other end, but I ignored it and walked away, leaving Margareth behind. The crowd that had gathered began to disperse, some no doubt recording the scene on their phones. Still, I was confident that Jenny would handle the situation.

Sure enough, not a single video of me and Margareth surfaced on social media.

"She did a good job, didn't she?" Gavin remarked, interrupting my thoughts as I stared at my computer screen.

"When did you come in?" I asked, a bit startled. Then, I continued, "And without knocking, too."

"Don't forget, this is my company. I don't need permission to enter any room," he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, fine. Take a seat, Mr. President. What brings you here?"

"Nothing much. Just wanted to say you're doing great work. I still can't believe you were betrayed by a colleague, though," he said, chuckling.

I shook my head, still unable to wrap my mind around the fact that Victor's first love had been right under my nose all this time.

Margareth and I had met as interns in the Marketing Team five years ago. Though she was older, we always connected well, often working late into the night together.

She had even helped me with my final college assignment, which brought us closer. I had been so naive, confiding in her about my feelings for Victor, not knowing she was the one he truly loved.

"I'll report you to Mom," I snapped, annoyed.

Gavin quickly stood up, feigning panic and said, "Whoa, calm down, sister. I actually came to tell you that we've been invited to the Met Gala again this year. It's your turn to represent Grant, not Preston.

“Oops, my bad. You're not even a part of Preston since then."

I grabbed the book in front of me and threw it at him, but Gavin dodged just in time.

After that, he said with a grin, "Get ready to wow the world. After all, our father wants to introduce you to some colleagues there."

He slowly backed toward the door, wary of my reaction.

"You can thank me later," he added with a wink.

After he left, I called Jenny. "Get the car ready. I have some places to go."

"Yes, Miss Grant," she replied promptly.

It had been years since I last attended the Met Gala. The last time was before I even started college, back when I was still a student at Middlesex School.

Those were the days when I dreamt of launching my own brand, which led me to study business at MIT.

But somewhere along the way, after meeting Victor, I seemed to have forgotten about those dreams. Even though in my first year of college, I was passionately designing the brand I planned to launch after graduation.

Suddenly, Jenny's voice pulled me back to the present. "We've arrived at LaBoutique, Miss Grant."

I blinked, focusing on the reality I hit at that moment. Dwelling on the past wouldn't help; it was time to move forward.

As a result, I spent the day trying on clothes, selecting accessories, and preparing for the Met Gala. It had been so long since I last prepared for a party. During my time as Preston's daughterinlaw, I was kept hidden away, never introduced, never celebrated.

The first Monday of May finally arrived, and the Met Gala was upon us. My mother and I spent the morning getting ready, with stylists buzzing around us.

One of them greeted me warmly, "Miss Grant, it's lovely to see you again. The last time I did your makeup was for your 17th birthday, right?"

"Yes, you're right. I kind of miss those days when I was young and fussed over," I replied, smiling at the memory.

"What do you mean, Miss Grant? You're still young! Now, you're just more dignified and wise, with a college degree under your belt. In addition, your beauty hasn't faded one bit," she said, beaming.

Another stylist chimed in, "I can't wait to do your makeup for your engagement or wedding one day."

"Oh, a girl like Miss Grant seems to want to enjoy her time in business first. I can't wait to accompany you around the world," another teased.

As they spoke, I began to realize just how luxurious my life had been. Why had I ever allowed myself to suffer under the Preston family for so long?

I also did not expect that my family had kept my marriage hidden very well, telling everyone I was focused on my studies. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

I smiled at the stylists and said, "Well, maybe the next big event will be the launch of my new brand."

My mother, overhearing, smiled proudly. "So, you've been thinking that far ahead, Earlene? I'm glad to hear it."

As we chatted, I kept an eye on the Met Gala guest list. Preston was invited, as usual, but I was curious to see if Margareth would attend.

My question was answered as soon as I arrived at the Met Museum. While mingling with colleagues my age, I ran into Victor and Margareth.

"Earlene, I didn't expect you to come," Margareth said with a sarcastic smile.

Victor remained silent, looking me up and down as if he were disgusted.

"I'll get you some lemonade, honey. Be good here, and let me know if this woman tortures you again," he said.

"Sure, thank you, honey," Margareth replied, kissing Victor on the lips right in front of me.

I rolled my eyes and turned my gaze away, too disgusted to watch.

"Which sugar daddy brought you here, Earlene?" Margareth asked with a sneer as soon as Victor went.

"Well, at least I didn't steal someone else's husband and being pregnant with him like you," I retorted, my voice dripping with contempt.

My words hit her mark. As a result, Margareth's face flushed with anger.

"If it weren't for you, Victor would have married me a long time ago. It's your fault for coming between us," she spat, jabbing her finger into my chest repeatedly, forcing me to step back.

I shoved her hand away and shot back, "As far as I remember, Victor was dumped by his first love, which left him unable to believe in love anymore. I was the one who helped him rise to where he is now.

“You seem like the type of woman who only enjoys luxury and abandons men at their lowest point, Margareth."

"How dare you!" Margareth screamed, lunging towards me.

The force of her attack sent me stumbling backward and, before I knew it, I was falling into the swimming pool. The splash was enormous, drawing the attention of everyone around us.

Thankfully, the pool wasn’t deep. I quickly climbed out, drenched but determined.

I grabbed a bottle of wine from a nearby table and marched back to Margareth. Without hesitation, I smashed it over her head. Blood began to trickle down her face as she crumpled to the ground.

"Earlene, are you out of your mind?" Victor's voice rang out as he rushed toward the scene.

I raised my head and looked at him provocatively, "I wasn't crazy. I only taught a mistress who interfered with other people's marriages a lesson."