I Dropped My Pregnancy Test, He Cradled His Mistress

On our wedding anniversary, Gifford Habsburg slapped me—for his first love.

He sneered at me, saying, “I never thought you could be so cruel!”

With my cheek swollen and burning red, I called another man and said yes to his proposal.

But when I showed up with a new lover after the divorce, Gifford lost his damn mind. He dropped to his knees, begging me to reconcile with him.

This time, though, I wasn’t looking back.

…

On our wedding anniversary, I had a wonderful surprise—I discovered I was pregnant.

It had been five years; my husband knew better than anyone else how much I had suffered and endured to carry this child.

I couldn’t wait to tell him, so I hurried home. But when I pushed open the front door of the villa…

The vase in the living room was shattered, torn, and vivid red rose petals were scattered all over the floor.

I especially bought them early in the morning, planning to celebrate with him tonight.

The couch cushions were rumpled and tossed aside; Gifford’s coat lay carelessly on the coffee table. He was standing by the window with his back to me.

“You’re back,” he began, turning around. His eyes were filled with suppressed anger.

“Dakota just called,” he continued. “She told me you went to her house and set her bedroom curtains on fire.”

“I—what? I didn’t—” I began to protest.

Before I could even process how ridiculous that accusation sounded, his hand struck my face.

The force knocked me half a step back. The pregnancy test slip flew from my hand, hit the floor with a sharp smack, and slid a few feet across the room.

“Gifford! Are you out of your mind? I was at the hospital all day! When would I even have gone to Dakota’s house?”

I covered my burning cheek. I could taste blood on my tongue.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Austria!” he bellowed, striding toward me and jabbing a finger at my nose. “She’s pregnant! And because you couldn’t have a baby, you got jealous—so jealous you tried to burn her bedroom down and hurt the child she’s carrying!”

He heaved a sigh. “God. I never thought you could be so cruel!”

I watched him lambast me in Dakota’s defense, my hand still covering my face. For a moment, I froze in disbelief.

“Burn her house? My god, Gifford, I didn’t realize you could be this absurd!” I couldn’t help but scoff. “Today’s our fifth wedding anniversary. Is this your gift to me?”

I had come home full of joy, ready to tell him about the baby, and instead, he hit me for Dakota’s sake.

“So you’re saying, your wife, who lives with you day in and day out, means less than someone’s accusation? You really believe Dakota over me? You actually think I’m a monster who’d set someone’s house on fire?”

Suddenly, my belly churned; I covered my mouth, my fingers digging into my palm to steady myself and fight off the pregnancy-induced retching.

The surprise I had planned to announce tonight now felt like a shard lodging in my chest, stabbing pain through my ribs.

“Isn’t it true?” he demanded.

“You’ve never gotten over what happened years ago. For god’s sake, it was an accident, Austria!” he snapped.

Gritting his teeth, he added, “I understood how you felt as a new mother then, so I turned a blind eye to how you treated Dakota all these years.”

His voice rose. “But I never imagined you would go so far as to burn her alive!”

The sting in my cheek still throbbed, and his words stabbed through me. Suddenly, memories I had buried deep surged up without warning.

Three years ago, on a snowy night, I’d been outside the ER holding my feverish baby, crying until I passed out.

Dakota, the nanny who was supposed to watch my child, was nowhere to be found.

When the doctors issued a critical condition notice, Dakota stumbled in, reeking of alcohol.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave the window open. I didn’t know the child had been exposed to the cold all night. If I had known it would be this serious, I would rather it had been me.”

Her eyes rimmed red, but when she looked at me, the corner of her mouth curled with a hint of triumph.

The way she fixed her gaze at me said everything—she had done it on purpose!

And so I lost it; I raised my hand to slap her.

But Gifford grabbed my arm and shoved me hard.

“Austria! What’s wrong with you?” he scolded. “She said it wasn’t on purpose! She already feels bad enough. Stop being unreasonable!”

I stared at him in disbelief until I had no tears left to shed.

“Gifford,” I choked out, “that was our child. He left us when he wasn’t even a year old...”

When the memory faded, my chest tightened, and a sharp spasm of pain clenched my lower belly.

My face went pale as I realized what was happening—something was wrong with my baby!

“Gifford… My belly… It hurts…”

I clung to his trouser leg, my voice trembling beyond control. At that point, tears and fear tumbled down my cheeks.

“Help me… Please, call the hospital… Please…”

I could barely finish saying it before the pain eclipsed my speech. For a moment, his expression softened, and he reached for his phone on the coffee table.

At that exact moment, it rang, shrill and insistent.

He answered, and in an instant, his voice shifted into worry.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

I didn’t hear the other end of the line, but his face drained of color as whatever was said grew more urgent. He hung up without even glancing at me and bolted for the door.

“Stop pretending, Austria!” he suddenly shouted from the doorway, his voice edged with threat. “If anything happens to Dakota or her baby, I swear, I’ll make you pay!”

After that, the door slammed shut with a force that made the room swim before my eyes.

The pain in my belly intensified, and the next thing I knew, warm fluid trickled down my thigh.

I glanced at the empty doorway, and a metallic taste rose in my throat.

That was my husband—the man I shared my bed with every night—leaving me for a fired nanny despite seeing something wrong was happening to my body.

As the world blurred, I found the phone on the floor and, with the last of my strength, I pressed a familiar number.

“Devon… please… save my baby….”