My Husband Moved His Mistress In So I Invited My Three Lovers

My mother-in-law, Mrs. Lockwood, was desperate for a grandchild, but my husband, Preston, was keeping himself pure for his One True Love. Then, he had the audacity to bring her home to our penthouse, warning me to never, ever make life difficult for his ‘Innocent Ideal.’ I had no choice but to adjust the playing field. The only reasonable solution was to invite my current boyfriend and my two most devoted—and highly useful—admirers to move into the house, too. This way, I could not only focus on giving Mrs. Lockwood the required heir but also keep myself too preoccupied to even notice Preston’s ‘Madonna.’ So, when Preston cornered me, demanding to know why I had pushed his precious Penelope down the stairs last night, his two best friends immediately stepped up as my alibi. “Aria was with us all night, Pres. She wouldn’t have had time to stage a crime.” Preston froze.

1 Preston and I were a standard-issue business merger in the form of a marriage. Before we exchanged vows, every one of our mandated meetings was a study in glacial contempt. He looked at me as if I owed him eight figures, minimum. On our wedding night, his tone was dry ice. “Sloane,” he told me, using my first name like a reprimand, “this marriage is a simple corporate alliance. My heart belongs to Penelope Davis. I will not touch you. In a few years, we will divorce.” I was genuinely stunned. My only reason for agreeing to the alliance in the first place was that he was gorgeous. I figured I’d at least get a good lay out of the deal. Instead, he was reserving the most coveted seat in the house and refusing to use it. Why couldn’t he have mentioned this little vow of chastity before I signed the prenup? Preston was constantly traveling, immersed in his business, and lost in the distant memory of Penelope. He treated me like expensive, ornamental furniture. Luckily, I had my own businesses, and, more importantly, I had Kian. 2 Kian Reynolds, my college boyfriend, had been a beautiful, broke artist when we met. Loads of socialite daughters and bored heiresses wanted to put him on retainer, but I was the only one who got to keep him for free for years. Now, he’d successfully launched his own tech company and was absolutely new money—a high-flying success, but still nowhere near the entrenched wealth of the Lockwoods. He was well outside my approved marriage bracket, but we had never truly cut ties. We’d had one messy, dramatic breakup right after the wedding, but I won him back with a classic ‘damsel in distress’ routine, and he had agreed to maintain our mutually beneficial arrangement. Preston’s neglect only cleared my calendar, so I continued to see Kian. Since our offices were close in the City, we usually met during the workday. If we needed a longer block of time, we’d tag along on each other’s business trips. After all, the boss gets to choose the destination. 3 It was during one such “business trip” to the Amalfi Coast that Preston’s friend spotted us. His friend was a doctor, Dr. Miles Shaw. Miles was suave, impeccably dressed, and possessed that kind of long-limbed, elegant grace that screamed Old Money, even in a linen shirt. I tracked down Dr. Shaw immediately. Tearing up, I pleaded, “It’s not what it looks like, Miles. There is absolutely nothing going on between me and that man. Please, don’t misunderstand.” Miles adjusted his sleek, rimless glasses, a picture of polite confusion. “I saw you holding hands. And then I saw the kissing. A full-on French kiss, Sloane. That’s nothing?” Even in the upper echelons of old wealth, where marriages were often transactional dumpster fires, maintaining appearances was paramount. We all had to preserve a certain decorum. So, I had to double down on the absurd explanation. “He… he’s actually a professional mime, and he’s completely blind. I was merely guiding him. And the kissing? He was terribly parched, and we couldn’t find a clean source of water.” Miles merely nodded, a slight, knowing smirk playing on his lips. Then, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine—a deep, lingering, unmistakably French kiss. When he finally pulled back, he straightened his glasses and murmured, “Thank you. I found that quite thirst-quenching, too.” I hadn’t expected him to be that kind of man. 4 Cheating is a slippery slope. You either do it zero times or you find yourself on a fast track to infinity. Next thing I knew, Miles was saying he was fascinated by human anatomy and asked me to model for him. He also felt it was only fair to reciprocate, offering to demonstrate his own understanding of human aesthetics for me. We thoroughly explored the texture and taste of various parts of the human body. We conducted intense field research into the mechanics of physical connection. He even taught me a surprising amount of medical knowledge. We were truly bathing in the ocean of knowledge, achieving mutual advancement. We quickly became very close friends, and he was now my personal physician. I made sure to schedule a check-up every few weeks. 5 One day, while we were in his private office, deeply engrossed in a discussion using aggressive, non-verbal body language, the door burst open. The intruder was stunningly handsome, with a dangerous, untamed quality. It was Zane Maverick, the A-list rock star. He took in our state of undress and, instead of retreating, leaned against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his lip. “Well, well. What have we here?” Miles launched a stethoscope at him, sending the star flying backward, slamming the door shut. Zane was also one of Preston’s best friends. The Top Star needed no other title. “He won’t tell Preston, will he?” I asked, suddenly nervous. I didn’t feel any actual guilt, but the thrill of doing it in secret was part of the fun. Miles assured me, “I’ll make sure he keeps quiet. Don’t worry, they both come to me whenever they have a medical ‘emergency.’” I accepted this. Miles and I quickly straightened our clothes. When we emerged, Zane was draped across Miles’s massive desk, his feet up, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He blew a perfect smoke ring and waved a hand at me. “Sloane, long time no see.” I managed a weak, awkward smile. He continued, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I never imagined our reunion would be on Dr. Shaw’s examination table. Does Xander know you’re this… sick?” He used Preston’s casual nickname. 6 Miles cleared his throat. “Don’t be an idiot, Zane. We were engaged in a diagnostic procedure. To a doctor, there’s no distinction between male and female.” Zane laughed, a deep, resonant sound. “Right, right. Sloane, did your treatment work? If Miles can’t cure you, you could always try an exorcism. I happen to be an expert in the black arts.” I was so flustered I bolted immediately. But just as I reached my car, Zane caught up to me. He cornered me against the door, his body trapping me, making me utterly helpless. He was intimidatingly close, and I couldn’t deny his face was a masterpiece of aggressive male beauty. Okay, I admitted it: part of the reason I kept accepting Preston’s early dinner invitations was the vague hope of meeting his entourage. My dream had apparently materialized. I felt heat rush into my face, and I lowered my gaze. Zane tilted my chin up forcefully. “Sloane, why can’t you look at me? Are you under a spell? Let me suck the demon right out of you.” He asked a question, but his actions were anything but hesitant. He kissed me with the ferocity of someone trying to pull a spirit from my soul, and I genuinely felt like my consciousness was being drawn right out of my body. 7 The next thing I knew, he was driving my car, and we were heading to his massive, industrial-chic loft downtown. He tied me up and used a silk scarf to punish the demon possessing my body. He was convinced I was ridden with evil and needed to be thoroughly cleansed—if one session wasn’t enough, there would be many more. I decided he was a dedicated Samaritan whose techniques were profoundly effective and trustworthy. We cemented a deep and serious revolutionary friendship. So, while Preston was busy preserving his virtue for Penelope, I was constantly flying out of town, getting medical check-ups, and scheduling exorcism appointments. Kian’s tech company often brought in nine-figure returns, and since I had a hefty stake, I was quite satisfied. Miles’s parents were such heavy hitters that a collective cough from them made the entire City banking sector tremor. Thanks to Miles, my various development projects were not only moving forward smoothly but I was also effortlessly securing new ones. Zane became the face of one of my key luxury lines. His endorsement fees were minimal, but his fan base’s buying power was astronomical. Soon enough, I also invested in his new record label. Besides emotion, the one thing I valued most was money. Conveniently, I enjoyed talking money in my relationships and finding emotional connections in my business dealings. I don’t involve myself with “broke artists” unless they are potential goldmines, like Kian. Life was effortless. Then, Preston’s One True Love decided to come home. 8 On the weekend, Preston and I performed our standard marital duty, attending a family dinner at the estate. I happened to see the text pop up on his phone: Penelope had sent him her flight details. Meanwhile, Mrs. Lockwood was, as always, pressuring me about children. “Sloane, darling, you and Pres have been married for three years now. Why no baby yet? You need to start early. A boy, ideally.” I glanced at my husband, who was now a pillar of selective deafness, and sighed internally. I gave my mother-in-law my most sincere, dutiful smile. “I’ll try my best, Mother.” Honestly, I agreed with her. It was time for a child. There was far too much family wealth to risk letting it fall into the hands of an outsider. On the drive back to the penthouse, Preston broke the news. “Penelope is moving back from Europe. She needs a place to stay, so I’m letting her move in with us.” He looked at me, a subtle, implicit threat in his eyes. “I expect you to be civil to her.” I gave him the look of a perfectly accommodating wife. “Of course. Let her move in. The place is enormous. It’s dreadfully lonely with just the two of us.” 9 My emotional complexity, I realized, still lagged behind that of a man. Look at Preston—he simply brought his ‘Innocent Ideal’ right to our shared front door. And what was I doing? I was driving all over town. An hour to Kian’s office, another hour to Miles’s private clinic, then driving cross-town when Zane was free for a ‘spiritual consultation.’ It was such a colossal waste of time. Manhattan traffic was a nightmare. A two-mile drive could take forty-five minutes on a bad day. And when you meet someone for a rendezvous, you can’t just jump straight into the… revolutionary friendship. We were people, not animals. So, I’d grab dinner first, then drive to the secret location, then sit in traffic again. It was exhausting. But if my three closest business partners/friends/confidants all lived under my roof, I could simply drive straight home from the office. Our chef prepared meals that weren’t pre-packaged, and the dining was guaranteed. We would all eat well and save a ton of time. It was a quadruple win. I called up my two co-conspirators. 10 Miles and Zane knew about each other. Kian, however, still held a special, elevated status in my life. I wasn’t quite brazen enough to introduce him to his two new competitors just yet. To save time, I broke the news about Penelope moving in to our trio’s group chat. Miles: Isn’t your place too cramped? You should come stay with me. Pres will be busy with his… guest. Naturally, I must step in to look after Sloane. Zane: Babe, you want me to kick his ass? Divorce him and marry me. The biggest demon in your life is that lowlife husband of yours. Marriage is not a game. One doesn’t just casually divorce. Who was he trying to challenge? I quickly typed: I think the best solution is for both of you to move in with me. You can handle Xander; just come up with your own reasons. He already warned me not to be mean to his White Moonlight. I need two witnesses to confirm that I did absolutely nothing. They spent the next hour alternating between reassuring me and thoroughly roasting my husband. I felt a profound sense of shared purpose. 11 The day Preston’s ‘Innocent Ideal’ moved in, Miles arrived shortly after with his own custom leather luggage and rang the bell. Preston stared at him in disbelief. “Miles? What are you doing here?” Miles adopted a look of weary resignation. “Penelope is back, Xander. Remember how you used to call me in the middle of the night to examine one of you when she was here before? I fear a return to those late-night emergencies.” He paused, then added, “So, I decided to move in. Call me the live-in medical concierge. If anything comes up, I’m already here.” Miles shot a quick, triumphant look at me. His eyes were clearly saying, Applaud me. Preston was speechless and simply let him move in. I quickly turned to my husband. “You handle Penelope’s arrangements. I’ll get Miles settled.” Preston and I occupied separate master suites on the second floor. The second floor also housed two studies and two enormous closets but no extra bedrooms. Preston had already assigned Penelope the guest suite on the third floor. For convenience, I put Miles on the fourth floor. The moment we were through the door, Miles grabbed me and pushed me against the wall. “Miss me?” He pressed his lips to mine, and my heart hammered against my ribs. This was already too much fun. We stayed tangled up on the bed for a very long time, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. 12 At dinner, Penelope spoke to me, all wide-eyed gratitude. “Sloane, thank you so much for taking me in.” I gave her a magnanimous wave. “Don’t worry about it, Penny. Make yourself at home.” There were four people at the table. Penelope and Preston were deep in conversation about her ‘struggles’ abroad. Miles and I sat in silence, utterly unable to join the conversation. If I had been alone, I would have been completely isolated. Now, Miles and I were allies. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. The housekeeper answered, and Zane Maverick strode in, pulling a battered, monogrammed suitcase. Preston’s jaw dropped again. “Zane? Why are you here, too?” Zane surveyed the four of us, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a long plume of smoke. “Did I interrupt something? If I’m not welcome, I can leave.” He said this, but he dropped his suitcase and pulled up a chair at my table, already planning to eat. As the housekeeper brought him a place setting, he explained, “Xander, my psycho fans tracked me down again. It’s too dangerous to go back to my place right now. I’m crashing here for a bit.” Preston merely grunted. Zane then turned his full charm on me. “Sloane, I hope I’m not too much of an inconvenience.” I curved my lips into a pleased smile. Watching handsome men fight over me always improved my mood. 13 The dinner table instantly became two distinct camps: me, Miles, and Zane in one chat group, and Preston and Penelope in the other. Miles and I were mid-story, laughing about how Zane was almost force-kissed by a crazed fan, when Penelope suddenly apologized. “Sloane, are you upset that I’ve moved in? Are you deliberately ignoring me?” Her voice was laced with artificial vulnerability. “I’m so sorry, I can’t afford a hotel, and my parents aren’t here. I know I’m not a rich socialite like you…” Zane snorted with laughter. “Sloane, she just called you ‘Sister Sloane,’ and she’s older than you. Hahaha.” Miles chimed in, “Penelope, I can vouch for Sloane. She’s not ignoring you. Zane is the one who’s ignoring you.” Zane immediately agreed. “I can also vouch. Sloane isn’t ignoring you. Miles is the one who’s ignoring you.” Miles leaned back, utterly at ease. “I’m just afraid Xander will get jealous.” Zane emphatically agreed, throwing his hands up. “Me, too. It’s better if we three stick together. We wouldn’t want to get dirty looks.” Preston shot me an icy, reproving glare, as if I had somehow orchestrated this triple alliance to bully his darling Penelope. Zane calmly spooned some mashed potatoes onto my plate and then addressed Preston. “Xander, you brought your mistress home and warned your wife not to lift a finger against her. How much more do you plan to abuse Sloane?” Miles, ever the picture of lazy elegance, draped an arm over the back of his chair. “Xander, harassing women? That’s not a good look for a businessman.” Preston was so enraged he pushed his chair back. “I’ve lost my appetite. Enjoy your meal.” He stormed upstairs. Penelope immediately followed, trying to grab his arm. “I’m so sorry, Xander. I just don’t want there to be conflict between you and your wife because of me.” Zane instantly turned to me. “Sloane, I’m so sorry, I spoke up too loudly. I just don’t want there to be conflict between you and your husband because of me.” Miles and I burst into laughter. 14 Later, after I’d finished my nighttime routine, there was a knock on my door. I opened it, and Zane slipped inside, immediately wrapping me in a bear hug. “Sloane, my little devil, want to play with my big toy?” I laughed, and we tumbled onto the bed. Just as he reached for my belt, another, more insistent knock sounded. I quickly opened the door. It was Miles. Miles slipped in, slamming the door shut, and pinned me to the bed. “Did you miss me?” Then he kissed me deep and hard. Zane cleared his throat. “Dr. Shaw, it’s late. Don’t you have to operate tomorrow?” Miles looked up, unbothered. “What are you doing here?” “Doing what I do best, of course.” “I have to treat Sloane’s condition. You need to leave.” Zane laughed. “I have to exorcise the demon. You need to leave. Sloane, who are you choosing tonight? Treatment or Exorcism?” I gave them an apologetic shrug. “I think I’ll work late.” I opened my laptop and started reviewing my Q3 project proposal. 15 An hour later, they were still there, lying on either side of my King-sized bed, scrolling through their phones. The scene was strangely harmonious. Neither was willing to give ground. With them both there, I felt like the house had finally acquired a kind of warmth. I didn’t want them to leave. Just then, there was another, softer knock. I tensed up. Was it Preston? It wasn’t. I opened the door to see Penelope. “Sloane, I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have questioned you so suddenly at dinner. Please, forgive me.” I gave her a gentle, practiced smile. “It’s nothing, Penny. Don’t worry about it. Get some rest. Good night.” I closed the door immediately. 16 The next morning, we all gathered at the breakfast table, yawning and bleary-eyed. Preston suddenly erupted. “Sloane, why did you push Penelope down the stairs last night? She says she fell, and you know she had to wait there all night because she couldn’t get up!” “Wait, what?” I said, genuinely taken aback. I hadn’t realized there was a sequel to the night’s drama. Zane jumped in immediately. “Xander, you’re mistaken. Penny came to apologize to Sloane last night. She was fine when we saw her.” Miles agreed. “Yes, Penelope was fine when she apologized. How can you say Sloane pushed her?” Preston cut him off. “She must have pushed her later.” Zane shook his head, a look of utter conviction on his face. “That’s impossible. Sloane was with me all night. She didn’t leave my sight. She had no time to commit a crime.” Preston’s expression froze. He looked at the three of us with incomprehension.