Realized 48

Posted by Sara Lili, ? Views, Released on October 29, 2025

All Chapter

Options

Facebook Twitter WhatsApp Pinterest Telegram

Overseas, I was checking out the love nest Easton set up for Bailey.

“How much a month? $5,000?”

Bailey looked embarrassed.

“$8,000.”

“Oh.” I nodded, mentally calculating how much Easton had spent on this whole affair.

I’d be getting all of

My ex–mother aw–to–b

Thirteen hours.

looked sick. “Laney, I’ll pay you back for all of it…”

Bailey clutched her belly and f

Easton finally showed

He rushed in, eyes sweeping the

No Bailey.

asleep once.

room.

He grabbed my shoulders. “You already have everything! You have me, you have my love!”

“Laney, why can’t you just leave her alone?! All Bailey has left is my baby!”

His mom quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Easton, calm down! That woman’s in the bedroom!”

Bailey stumbled out, groggy, voice all excited. “Honey! You’re back…”

Then she remembered where she was. Shut her mouth.

Easton let me go, eyes frantic.

“I… I was just worried.”

I pulled things out of my bag, one by one-

Bailey’s pregnancy report. The paternity test results I’d just gotten. And a voice recorder, actively uploading.

“Mr. Carver, looks like we need to revise that divorce agreement. 50/50 split? Not gonna work anymore.”

Yep.

That’s why I dragged this out.

With a sample of Ms. Bailey Whitmore’s blood, now I had full proof of Easton’s affair during our marriage.

Even if I couldn’t leave him with nothing, I could sure as hell demand compensation.

The recorder played back his screaming

20:17

I Hypnotized My Husband to Destroy Himself

36.8%

[You already have everything! You have me, you have my love!]

[Laney, why can’t you just leave her alone?! Bailey’s carrying my baby!]

[You already have everything! You have me, you have my love!]

[Laney, why can’t you just leave her alone?! Bailey’s carrying my baby!]

I smiled.

“One–click cloud upload. Mr. Carver, if you like it so much, keep the recorder as a souvenir?”

Easton slowly went pale.

“You’ve been setting me up this whole time…”

I stood up, looked him in the eye.

“Because that’s the only thing about you that’s still worth anything.

“I want ninety percent of the assets, Mr. Carver. Any objections?”

Easton laughed bitterly.

Grabbed the agreement, scribbled his name across it.

“Laney, you sure you won’t regret this?”

“Of course I’ll regret it.” I stared at him. “Regret not seeing you for the trash you are before. I married you.”

Before I left, I looked at his mother.

“Ma’am.”

I figured this’d be the last time I called her that.

“When Easton rushed in here, he already made his choice.”

Her eyes went red.

She shook her head at me.

I turned and walked out.

I’d already lost one plot of land.

Easton didn’t get a second chance to make me gamble again.

Flying back home, Marcus’s guy picked me up from the airport.

Holding flowers. Walked right past Easton.

Mood got weird real fast.

Bailey bit her lip, standing behind Easton.

“No wonder Ms. Reed was so set on divorcing you…”

Snide little comment, making it sound like me and the guy with flowers had something going on.

20:17

I Hypnotized My Husband to Destroy Himself

37.0%

Blin

Took the flowe

The Bryetare eroded alltratreon!

“Mi Thiley days comprade time try to HRAB N

Teston’s low for red hard

car told him something was off

#te uddenly remembered that day to cow the marks in my week

Rushed over, grabbed my hand

“Lane

Lyes blazing “We’re not divorced yet to

The young secretary reacted fast

Before I even saw it coming, he had Fastor’s wrist as thate geringe

Easton winced, let go

The kid stopped in front of me, made his stance diout

Kinda hot, honestly.

I was a little amused. Not as amoyed anymore.

Easton was fuming

“We’re still married, Lahey! You’re supposed to keep your distance from other guys!”

The kid lined his chun

“Our kiss says Jut for long”

After that. Easton supped pretending

Brough Bailey back, sel her up in Seattle staped by ging het te very slimmer and avant-

Too bad Halley wasn’t a businesswoman

Honestly* Not even that shath

On top of that, she had that stubborn pale faston used to love so much

Didn’t need to dig for info

Word got around fast–Bailey made a scene at a business dinant and cust. Eastros a dial.

Chapter 6

Easton stared at me, eyes screaming:

Explain.

I acted like I didn’t see.

Took the flowers.

“This Marcus’s surprise?”

The secretary smiled, all professional.

“Mr. Finley says, congrats to Ms. Reed for ditching the trash.”

Easton’s brow furrowed hard.

Gut told him something

was off.

He suddenly remembered that day he saw the marks on my neck.

Rushed over, grabbed my

hand.

“Laney!”

Eyes blazing. “We’re not divorced yet!”

The young secretary reacted fast.

Before I even saw it coming, he had Easton’s wrist in his grip.

Easton winced, let go.

The kid stepped in front of me, made his stance clear.

Kinda hot, honestly.

I was a little amused. Not as annoyed anymore.

Easton was fuming.

“We’re still married, Laney! You’re supposed to keep your distance from other guys!”

The kid lifted his chin.

“Our boss says not for long.”

After that, Easton stopped pretending.

Brought Bailey back, set her up in Seattle, started bringing her to every work dinner and event.

Too bad Bailey wasn’t a businesswoman.

Honestly? Not even that sharp.

On top of that, she had that stubborn pride E

Didn’t need to dig for info.

used to love so much.

Word got around fast–Bailey made a scene at a

s dinner and cost Easton a deal.

37.2%

Chapter 6

About two million in profit, gone.

People in our circle started telling it like a joke.

But I wasn’t paying attention to that.

‘Cause the east side bidding war started.

Technically a “bid.”

But really, only me and Marcus had the resources to pull it off.

According to our bet, I was just there to lose.

After all, Marcus already knew what profit margin I was offering.

But when they announced the results? My company won by a margin of 0.01%.

Couldn’t hide the shock on my face.

Marcus smiled.

“The bet was for business partners. But my woman? I’m not playing games with her.”

“Congrats on winning the bid, Ms. Reed.”

Cheesy.

But I didn’t hate it.

That one sentence meant a stupid amount of money coming my way.

I winked at him.

“Mr. Finley’s too generous!”

Suddenly, someone next to me shouted.

“IT’S YOU?!”

♡ (0)

(0)

37.4%

Sara Lili

Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.

Prev Next

Realized

Score 9.9

Status: Ongoing Type: Alpha

Realized

The Scent That Started It All

The first sign that something was wrong began with a scent — or rather, the wrong one.
For years, Robert and I had used the same brand of body wash. But that evening, when he leaned in to kiss me, I noticed immediately: this wasn’t our scent.

When I asked, he said casually, “A bird crapped on my head, so I showered at school.”
His calmness didn’t sit right. It was too rehearsed, too effortless.
I joked about his hometown superstition — gathering rice from a hundred houses to wash away bad luck — but inside, my suspicion had already begun to grow.

Something Too Clean

Later that night, before my own shower, I checked his laundry.
No perfume. No cigarette smoke. No trace of the day — just body wash.
That was the problem. A man who’d been out all day couldn’t possibly smell this sterile.
No food, no city air, no sweat — nothing.

I looked closer.
There wasn’t even a single strand of hair around his collar. His shirt looked freshly changed.

That night, he made love harder than usual — mechanical, almost like a duty.
I went along, but inside, I felt hollow. It was duty sex, and I could feel it.
Robert noticed. “You’re not really into it tonight,” he murmured, kissing my neck, trying to sound concerned.

The Therapist’s Curse

I’m a hypnotherapist. People think we’re calm and composed, but the truth is, we swim through other people’s trauma every day. And as Nietzsche said, “When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes back.”

The darkness I absorb from clients sometimes sticks — their lies, their guilt, their fear. That night, I let that darkness speak.
I made up a story: “My client’s husband’s a cheater — serial playboy, brings his side piece home even after being caught.”

Robert smiled, pretending to be amused. “Not all men are trash,” he said. “Some guys actually have morals. Your husband, for instance — a saint. First and last woman of his life.”
I stared at him, searching for cracks. There were none.
And that, again, was the problem.

The Perfect Husband

Robert was a math professor — calm, logical, brilliant.
We met in grad school: I studied psychology; he studied numbers. Everyone called us the power couple — reason meets reason.

After graduation, we married. He started teaching undergrads while pursuing his PhD; I opened my therapy practice, specializing in hypnosis.
In a small town, people didn’t believe in mental health. They called me a scammer at first. But after a few big cases and word of mouth, my reputation grew. So did our income — and with it, my confidence.

I believed money was freedom.
“A woman’s security doesn’t come from a man,” I always told myself. “It comes from her own bank account.”
With financial independence, I thought cheating would never be part of my story.

But reality doesn’t care about logic.

The Second Clue

The next day, Robert picked me up from work.
He hugged me, smiled, acted normal — too normal. Still that same sterile scent, no trace of life.
So I decided to test him.

I slipped a lipstick into his coat pocket — bright red. Then I acted natural, pretending nothing happened.

At dinner, halfway through the meal, he excused himself to the restroom — gone for ten minutes.
When he returned, his expression had shifted slightly, eyes more guarded.

“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied after a pause. “Something came up at school. I’ll handle it tomorrow.”

Two actors, one stage.
He played the overworked professor; I played the trusting wife.

Proof

When we got home, he tossed his coat aside and went to shower.
As soon as he closed the door, I checked the pocket.
The lipstick was gone.

Classic guilty move.
Then came the ding of a text from the bathroom — followed by his voice, low and tense:
“Who else would it be? Don’t text me. I’m home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

My heart turned to ice.

Before marriage, we’d made a promise: zero tolerance for cheating. No forgiveness, no second chances.

The Calm Before the Storm

I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on the couch, mind racing.
We didn’t have kids — just assets.
That made everything simpler, colder, more final.

I wasn’t the type to scream, to confront in chaos. I needed clarity.
That night, I began planning — not revenge, not yet, but proof.

Because the therapist in me knew one truth:
People lie. Patterns don’t.

The Dual Facade

Looking back, I realized how carefully Robert had built his image — logical, dependable, perfect. The kind of man who never raised his voice, who opened doors, who remembered anniversaries.
But perfection is its own disguise.

Every small detail — his clean shirt, calm tone, absence of emotion — was part of the act.
I used to think he was composed because he was rational.
Now I saw it differently: he was composed because he was practiced.

The Hypnotist’s Mind

My work as a hypnotherapist gave me tools — to read micro-expressions, body language, subconscious cues.
But it also made me paranoid. I’d spent years studying liars, manipulators, broken minds.
And suddenly, I was sleeping beside one.

It wasn’t just jealousy — it was intuition. The subtle signals my brain picked up before my heart caught on.
Robert’s calm wasn’t comfort; it was camouflage.

The Breaking Point

In bed that night, he kissed my forehead like everything was fine.
I smiled back, pretending I still believed him.
But my mind was already elsewhere — tracing the clues, building a case.

He had showered elsewhere.
His clothes were too clean.
The lipstick was gone.
And now, there was someone texting him in secret.

Piece by piece, the equation added up — and ironically, it was math that betrayed the mathematician.

What Comes Next

As I lay there, I thought about all the stories I’d heard from patients — women gaslit into silence, told they were overthinking.
Maybe Robert thought he could do the same to me.

But he’d forgotten who he married: a woman trained to see through illusions.
And the moment he lied, he handed me the first thread to pull.

I didn’t confront him that night. I let him sleep beside me, breathing evenly, the picture of innocence.
But inside, I was wide awake — plotting.

Because in the therapy room, I help people face their demons.
At home, I had just met mine.