“My good baby boy. Daddy will buy you and Mommy a new house.”
It was three in the morning when those words slipped from my husband’s lips. We always used protection. Then whose baby was he dreaming about? I shot awake, my heart pounding.
I shook him hard. “What did you just say?”
He stirred, eyes still shut and muttered, “Just a nightmare. A client was hounding me for money.”
Then he rolled over, drifting back into sleep.
I didn’t push. Instead, I reached for my phone in the dark and quietly opened his banking app. Dated three months ago—there was a wire transfer of $50,000, labeled as down payment. The recipient was Vanessa O’Hara.
I searched her name on Google and found her social media. The very first thing on her feed was an ultrasound photo.
[Our little angel is three months now. Daddy says once you’re born, we’ll move into a big house.]
The timestamp was the day after Brian transferred the money. My chest clenched, but I snapped a screenshot and sent it straight to my father.
[Dad, the perfect son-in-law you picked not only cheated, he’s knocked up some woman. I’m going to make sure he leaves with nothing.]
——
His reply came almost instantly:
[That bastard! Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get the best lawyer on this right away. How dare he betray our family? I’ll make him regret ever being born.]
Feeling sick to my stomach, I scrolled deeper into Vanessa’s feed.
One month ago: [We just locked down our new apartment today! The place is gorgeous. Thank you, hubby, for giving me and our baby such a warm home.]
Attached was a photo of her at a real estate office, glowing in a fitted maternity dress, her arm looped through Brian’s. He was holding her by the waist, gazing at her with tenderness I’d never once seen directed at me.
Two months ago: [Hubby says he loves me and our baby more than anything. Tonight’s steak was divine!]
The photo was taken at a high-end restaurant, Kobe beef plated elegantly on the table. I remembered that night. I had suggested celebrating my promotion at that very restaurant, but Brian frowned and said it was too expensive. He insisted we just order takeout at home instead.
Three months ago: [Two red lines! Baby, you came at the perfect time. Daddy and Mommy are ready to welcome you!]
The picture showed their hands intertwined over her stomach.
Every post cut me like a blade.
I cried silently into my pillow, tears soaking through the fabric. Beside me, Brian slept like a baby, smiling faintly—probably dreaming of a good time with his happy little family again. I stared at that lying face and any love I had left curdled into pure hatred.
Brian Roger, you think you can hide this from me? I, Claudia Stark, am not a woman to be trifled with.
I slipped out of bed, padded to the study and opened my laptop. As the heiress of Stark Industries, I had more than enough resources to destroy him. But first, I needed to find out exactly who Vanessa O’Hara was. A private investigator gave me the details within hours.
Vanessa O’Hara, 23. Fresh graduate from a third-rate university. Currently a receptionist at Brian’s company. Parents were blue-collar workers. In short—an ambitious nobody, desperate to climb her way up by seducing other women’s husbands.
The more I read, the worse it became. She’d joined Brian’s company six months after our wedding. Which meant she’d had her eyes on a married man from the start.
What a conniving little tramp.
***
The next morning, Brian woke me gently, the same as always.
“Breakfast is ready,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I’ve got an important client meeting today, might be home late.”
I forced a smile. “Okay. Do your best at work.”
A flicker of suspicion crossed his eyes—maybe he hadn’t expected me to not put up a fight.
“And, uh, I might be busy the next few days too. Don’t overthink, okay?”
“Got it,” I said sweetly, while laughing bitterly inside. Busy playing family man at prenatal appointments, more like.
