My Husband’s Mistress Wore My Missing Versace Dress To My Father’s Funeral. Sat In The Family Row. Held My Husband’s Hand. “I’m Practically Family Now,” She Announced. The Lawyer Began Reading The Will: “To My Daughter Diane, Who Called Me Yesterday About Her Husband’s Affair…” My Husband Went Pale. The Mistress Rained.

I turned my gaze toward Miles, whose eyes flicked toward the floor as he tried to disappear into his expensive wool coat. After twelve years of marriage, he still believed that avoiding eye contact was a valid way to escape a confrontation.

“Tell me she is lying to me, Miles,” I demanded, standing my ground as the organ music swelled into a more somber tone. “Diane, please,” he muttered, leaning toward me as if he were trying to settle a frantic animal in a public place. “Not here, not right now.”

Those words stung more than a shout would have, as if the only issue was my lack of decorum rather than his betrayal. “Family should be here to support one another during these times,” Audrey said, loud enough for the people behind us to hear clearly.

I turned back to her slowly, my hands balled into tight fists at my sides. “Family?” I repeated, the word sounding hollow and ridiculous.

Audrey lifted her chin and allowed her smile to sharpen just a fraction. “I am essentially family at this point, given how long Miles and I have been together.”