My Husband Chose Her Dogs Over Me

Chapter 9

Chester used to have feelings for me. He’d planned to confess, but life had other plans. By the time he mustered the courage, I was already with Franco. So he let that chance slip away.

Seeing me happy, he tucked away those youthful feelings and moved on—blind dates, marriage, a sweet little boy named Gian. But life wasn’t kind to him either. His wife passed from a terminal illness, and before she went, she made him promise to find a good mother for their son.

"Mara, let me take care of you."

His words hit me like a lightning strike. I couldn’t answer—not yet.

The next morning, I ran into Gian again, crouched in the courtyard, quietly sketching. Mrs. Walter mentioned Chester had already left for work, leaving the well-behaved boy home alone. I invited him over for lunch, and later, helped him with his drawings. The kid had real talent.

Walking Gian home from the market, his tiny hand in mine, I spotted someone I never wanted to see again—Leanna, perched on the doorstep like a bad omen.

"This is all your fault! That’s why Franco left me!"

She charged at me, voice shrill and unhinged. Instinctively, I pulled Gian behind me, shielding him from her chaos.

To me, Leanna was the poster child for emotional manipulation—clinging to a man who’d moved on years ago, disguising obsession as love.

"I’m divorced from Franco. Shouldn’t you be celebrating? Why come after me now?"

Her eyes lit up. "Divorced? Then why… why doesn’t he want me?"

I didn’t answer. Scooping up Gian, I turned to go inside—until she yanked my arm violently.

"No! It’s you! You poisoned him against me! Why else would he treat me like trash?"

She spiraled into hysteria, clawing at me. With no choice, I dialed the number I loathed most.

Franco arrived minutes later. The second Leanna saw him, she lunged.

"Franco, was it because of me you divorced her? Are you finally going to marry me? I’ll say yes—I’ve waited so long!"

His gaze turned to ice.

"Leanna, listen carefully—this is the last time. Even divorced, I’ll never marry you. You’ve played the ‘depression’ card for ten years. You’re not a kid anymore. Find someone who actually wants you. Stop wasting your life on me."

A bitter laugh escaped me. So he’d always known—just never called her out before.

Leanna paled, eyes reddening as she staggered back.

"You’ve been baiting Mara online for years. Every time we got closer, you’d sabotage it. I saw right through you. Let. It. Go."

Then—she snapped. Clutching her head, she screamed, yanking a knife from nowhere and pressing it to her throat.

"Fine! I’ll die! You’ll be happy then, won’t you?!"

Franco and I froze.

"If you’re going to die, do it somewhere else. Don’t stain this place with your madness," I spat.

He added coldly, "My mistake wasn’t rejecting you back then—it was not crushing every last hope you had."

I almost laughed. See? When a man turns ruthless, even past love means nothing.

A flash of silver—Leanna lunged at me, wild-eyed.

"You need to die, Mara!"

The blade glinted. I stumbled back, shielding Gian, but tripped. Just as the knife aimed for my heart—Franco threw himself in front of me.

Blood bloomed across his white shirt. Leanna froze, hand shaking, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done.

Sirens wailed through the village. As police dragged her away, she sobbed, "Please—just let me see him one last time…"

Begging for a glimpse of Franco—bleeding, unconscious—in the ambulance.

When Chester got the news, he raced to the hospital. Exhausted, I apologized through tears, "I'm so sorry... Gian got scared during everything."

"Mara, you should've called me right away," he said, his voice thick with worry. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was? If that knife had so much as scratched you..." His voice broke as he couldn't finish the thought.

The raw emotion in his eyes made my heart stutter. It'd been years since anyone besides my mom and ex-husband Franco had shown me that kind of care.

Four hours later, Franco was out of surgery and stable. Returning the favor he once did for me, I arranged for a top-tier caregiver to look after him during recovery.

When he finally woke up, I lingered in his doorway to say my final piece. "I'm leaving now. Don't try to find me."

All I got in return was a shaky whisper of "Goodbye." Ignoring the plea in his voice, I turned on my heel and walked away without looking back.

Leanna was diagnosed with mental illness and sent to a treatment facility before her court date.