Billionaire, Let's Divorce! by BELLA

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?"

The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts.

"Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response.

"You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!"

The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed.

I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella.

I let the video play, watching and listening to the two of them having sex, my disgust being provoked time and time again. Every time I hear their moans, my heart feels like it's being stabbed.

The cheating continues. After a few more slaps, he grabs her buttocks, thrusts his penis deep into her vagina, and starts pounding vigorously.

After a few more thrusts, Mark and Bella moan together as they climax. They collapse on the bed, kissing and caressing each other's faces.

"Do you treat my sister like this in bed too?" Bella's coquettish voice rings out,

"Don't mention her," Mark's ruthless voice echoes, "I haven't even kissed her, she can't compare to you at all."

"I knew you only loved me!" Bella smiles satisfied, hooking Mark's neck, leans in to kiss him, and says, "I want to do it again!"

Seeing them rolling together again, I feel a wave of nausea and can't watch anymore. I angrily press the pause button, swallowing hard.

I am very clear, this video must have been sent by Bella. She wants to tell me that she still holds Mark in her grip, and I am powerless against it. Apart from a certificate and title, Mark and I don't resemble a married couple at all. Bella indeed knows how to twist the knife further.

Three years ago, on that fateful day I never imagined was going to begin the worst turning point of my life, all was made ready to celebrate the union of Bella and Mark. It was only mere minutes to the wedding when Bella disappeared (or at least found out she was gone. Bella was nowhere to be found.

desperate to salvage the embarrassment and save face in front of the guests or whatever it was they were trying to protect that day,

to say no. I was to be the figurehead, the stand-in bride who'd fulfill the ceremony in Bella's absence. There were no words of blessing and no well-wishes

was how it

my dreams and aspirations were suddenly overshadowed by the harsh reality of my circumstances. Like my life had been snatched away from me in an instant, and I barely recalled what happiness felt like after that day. I was constrained in every

say this was how it

it actually dated way back to when I was three and had unfortunately gone missing. For eighteen long years, I lived away from my home and family. Growing older. As I grew older, from being a child, to a teenager and then a young

joyous reunion, no

with something

if I were a stranger who had wandered into their lives. My parents seemed to have moved on from me

that Bella had returned from abroad and had somehow found her way into my husband's arms. Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with an incoming video call from Bella. I didn't want to answer it at first, but ended up swiping

over there," Bella chirped with a

around to show more of the room, and in the

pathetic old virgin?

my teeth. I was reeling

deserve you," she added "He deserves better. And

more of that. I angrily ended the call and flung the phone to the bed, then burying my head in my

enough. I wasn't going to sit still and let myself he dragged to the

on my palm and nearly dozing off when I heard the sound of the front door clicking. That familiar musky scent of his followed him in as

blank gaze with his face. There was that brick-hard look on his face which he always had when I was around. To think of how he was grinning from ear-to- ear

everything I'd been told by my parents to do, I did. Both taking care of his food, his daily life, and several other things that couldn't be counted, all for three years. It started happening frequently, that it became a ritual, like a dance of habit ingrained in my daily routine. Mark also accepted

his room. Treating me as usual like

"I want a divorce."

an incredulous

are you talking

want this title of wife anymore," I