The Dog Stays: And So Does My Revenge

For seven years, I was the perfect political wife, seamlessly orchestrating every gala, every public appearance.

I stood behind my Congressman husband, Ethan Scott, a silent, smiling prop in our opulent D.C. townhouse.

Then, at our annual fundraising event, he tapped a glass for silence, his arm draped possessively around his pregnant mistress, Sabrina.

"Jocelyn and I have agreed to a divorce," he announced, his eyes cold, dismissive, while the room gasped.

He expected me to nod, to accept the humiliating settlement, to stay on as a "household consultant" for her.