Cheated, Betrayed, Reborn：The Heiress He Never Deserved

My muscles burned from six straight hours of rehearsal. Tomorrow was the biggest stage performance of my career. I dragged my feet up the front steps of our townhouse.

I just needed Jackson. I needed my husband to hold me and tell me everything would go perfectly tomorrow.

I pushed the front door open. "Jackson?"

Silence greeted me.

I dropped my gym bag on the entryway rug. The house felt too warm. I walked toward the hallway, kicking off my shoes.

A muffled sound drifted from the master bedroom.

"Jackson, are you awake?" I asked the empty corridor.

No answer. Just a low, rhythmic thumping.

I stepped closer to the bedroom door. The noises grew sharper, pulling me in.

"Fuck, Daisy. Right there."

I stopped dead. My hand hovered inches from the brass knob.

"Oh god, Jackson, you're fucking wrecking me," a high-pitched voice moaned.

Daisy. The twenty-year-old college student he met at the art gallery last month. The girl he claimed was just an intern.

A wet, slapping noise echoed through the crack in the door.

"Spread your legs wider," Jackson grunted. "I want to fuck you until you scream."

"Yes, please," Daisy begged. "Give it to me. Fuck me harder, Jackson."

The floor beneath my feet turned to ice.

"You take it so much better than she ever could," Jackson said, his voice rough and breathless. "You wrap around my cock perfectly."

"Jackson, wait, ah—" Daisy giggled, a playful, breathless sound. "What if Hazel comes back from her stupid rehearsal?"

"Let her," Jackson sneered. "Every time I think about how I broke with my family to marry her, I feel like a total idiot."

I pressed my palm against the wall. I didn't scream. I didn't burst in and tear them apart. I just stood there in absolute, suffocating silence.

"She’s so conservative," Jackson continued, the bedsprings squeaking violently now. "So rigid. I'm fucking sick of it. You're so much more fun, Daisy. Keep your ass up."

"Fuck yes, Jackson! Harder!"

"I'm going to fill you up," he growled. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

"Do it! Ruin me!"

Thud. Thud. Thud. The headboard hammered against the drywall.

"She won't even try the things you do," Jackson spat, his words hitting me like physical blows. "She just lays there. You actually know how to take a real fucking pounding."

"Poor Hazel," Daisy taunted between loud moans. "She doesn't know what she's missing."

Every word ripped through my chest. My indestructible marriage. The man who had forsaken his wealthy parents to build a life with me. It was garbage.

I backed away from the door. My fingers curled into fists.

My left hand felt strangely light. I stared down at my fingers.

The diamond band was gone.

The symbol of our struggle. The proof of the love he just spat on.

Panic, sharp and blinding, replaced the betrayal. I had to find it.

"Where is it?" I whispered to myself.

I spun around and sprinted down the hall. I grabbed my keys from the console table and yanked the front door open.

The night air slapped my face. Where did I lose it? At the dance studio? On the walk from the subway?

I kept my eyes glued to the pavement, retracing my path under the dim streetlights.

"Did it slip off on the train?" I asked the empty street. "Or when I paid for coffee?"

I dropped to my knees near the curb, scraping my palms against the concrete. I searched the gutter, sifting through damp leaves and trash.

"Come on," I pleaded. "Just give it back."

A passing car illuminated the sidewalk, casting long shadows. I crawled forward, my hands sweeping over the rough ground. Nothing. Just bottle caps and pebbles.

"It has to be here," I mumbled. "He bought it with his first paycheck. It has to be here."

Tears finally spilled over my lashes, turning the concrete into a gray, watery smear. I wiped my face furiously. I couldn't see.

My phone vibrated in my coat pocket.

I pulled it out. Dr. Miller.

I swiped the screen and pressed the speaker to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hazel, it's Dr. Miller. I'm calling with your lab results."

I sniffled, rubbing my nose. "Results? I just came in for fatigue."

"Well, the blood test explains the exhaustion," she said. "You're pregnant, Hazel."

The streetlights flickered.

"Excuse me?"

"About six weeks along," Dr. Miller continued. "You're going to have a baby."

A dry, hollow laugh scraped its way out of my throat. I stood in the middle of the sidewalk, laughing at the dark sky.

"Hazel? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice cracking. "I'm fantastic. A baby. Right now."

"I know it can be a shock," Dr. Miller said gently. "But we need to focus on your health. I need you to come into the clinic tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? I have a performance tomorrow."

"You can perform, but you need to see me first," she instructed. "We have to start you on prenatal vitamins and schedule a proper checkup to ensure everything stays healthy. Can you make it at noon?"

"Noon," I repeated, the word tasting like ash.

"Yes. It's crucial we get you on a care plan immediately. Stress can be very harmful during the first trimester. Have you told your husband yet?"

My husband. The man currently burying himself in a college student.

"No," I whispered. "I haven't told him."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be thrilled. Get some rest tonight, Hazel."

Pregnant. Now. Tonight.

Jackson's voice echoed in my skull. *I'm fucking sick of it.*

My fingers went numb. The phone slipped from my grip. It clattered against the asphalt, the screen shattering into a million pieces.

"Hazel? Hello?" Dr. Miller’s tiny voice drifted from the broken device.

I stared down at the glowing glass, the world spinning violently. I was carrying the child of a man who despised me.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me. Heavy. Approaching fast.

"Hazel?" a deep voice called out from the shadows.