My Boyfriend's Pregnant Mistress

"Ms. Winter, you are nearly six weeks along. Given your constitution, I can only give you two weeks to decide whether to terminate the pregnancy," said the doctor. Thinking of Felix Sterling, her boyfriend of five years, Celeste Winter nodded without hesitation. "I'll return for the procedure in two weeks." Her complete lack of hesitation visibly surprised the doctor. "Don't you need to discuss this with your partner?" A wry smile touched Celeste's lips as she shook her head. The man who had once vowed to build a future with her was now eagerly awaiting the arrival of another woman's child in three months. Beatrice Holloway had just graduated, radiating naive innocence. She was an intern in the Food & Beverage department of one of Felix's hotels. "Celeste, she reminds me of you when you first graduated. I can't stand to see her get pushed around," Felix had explained. He had taken the girl under his protect, shielding her completely. At first, Celeste had deluded herself. But she could no longer ignore Felix's growing obsession. For Beatrice's birthday, he had presented twenty-three belated gifts—from luxury cars to a beach house—completely forgetting his and Celeste's own anniversary. He orchestrated an extravagant graduation celebration for her, filling the sky with drones and fireworks that spelled out intimate messages, while Celeste lay feverish at home, recovering from another round of fertility injections. When Beatrice offended a guest at work, Felix soothed her tears, then demanded Celeste—his acclaimed executive chef—personally serve and apologize to the customer. And now, Beatrice was pregnant. ***** Returning to the villa, Celeste found the living room transformed. Her favorite pink tulips and sunflowers had been replaced by garish red roses and peonies. Childish plush toys now littered the sofas. "Mr. Sterling asked us to change the decorations," a staff member explained quietly. Without a word, Celeste walked upstairs. In the master bedroom, Felix was directing a worker to hang a new landscape painting. Leaning against the wall in the corner was their framed photo from their seaside vacation. Noticing her cold expression, Felix slid an arm around her shoulders. "Celeste, Beatrice has been struggling with morning sickness. I don't want her staying in that shared apartment anymore. It would be safer for her to be here while she's pregnant. Once the baby is born, she'll leave. I promise." He smiled reassuringly. Celeste looked at him, a faint, mocking smile on her face. "So you're putting her in our bedroom? Won't it be a little crowded with three of us in one bed?" His smile faded at her tone. "Celeste, you know you're the only one for me. Even when my mother disapproved, I never considered marrying anyone else." His voice softened, pleading. "I need my mother to accept our marriage. A child could change her mind, but... it hasn't happened for us. When Beatrice's baby comes, we can present it as ours. You won't have to go through the hardship of pregnancy, and we can finally get married. What's wrong with that?" Celeste actually laughed then, though her eyes were teary. The logic was so absurd it was almost funny. She was supposed to build a family with Felix using another woman's child. Her gaze drifted to the vacation photo in the corner. Their smiles, once so bright, were now trapped behind glass spiderwebbed with cracks—a perfect mirror of their relationship. There was a time when Felix held Celeste in the palm of his hand. If she disliked, he'd order a 10-million-dollar renovation of their villa without a second thought. He followed her abroad for studies and competitions, even choosing her over his own family. Now, another woman had entered their lives, subtle and steady as the rising tide. No matter how many award-winning dishes Celeste crafted or how high she soared in her career, Felix's gaze never turned back to her. And the child he now awaited wasn't even hers. Weariness settled in her bones as Celeste turned towards the door. "Do whatever you want. I'm going to the hotel." ***** Even the kitchen of a five-star hotel was not immune to gossip. Before Celeste could reach the locker room, whispers slipped through the door. "Beatrice is back. When she disappeared for a few days, I was sure Ms. Winter had finally put her foot down and Mr. Sterling sent her away. Turns out she was just on leave for prenatal appointments." "Have you seen her posts? She's already sharing ultrasound pictures—aimed right at Celeste, no doubt." "I never thought the head chef and the CEO made sense, but a waitress? Really?" "She rode in his Maybach to the clinic. Mr. Sterling must be serious this time. He won't let Beatrice want for anything, especially with a baby coming. Celeste is in trouble." The voices hushed as Celeste walked in. She changed quietly, the fabric of her chef's jacket familiar and cold. In the kitchen, she focused on her molecular gastronomy preparations, losing herself in the precision of the craft. Midway through, the manager approached, looking uneasy. "Celeste, Mr. Vance is here. Beatrice was serving his table but couldn't explain the dishes. Mr. Vance is upset and won't let her leave—they're going in circles." As the presumed future Mrs. Sterling, Celeste was often the unofficial authority. She understood Beatrice's motives perfectly—the pregnant woman lingering where she didn't belong, stirring up drama. But understanding didn't make it easier. "I'll take care of it," she said. Coming out of the kitchen, she found Arthur visibly annoyed, his friend growing agitated beside him. "You're serving the food. Is it really so hard to tell us what's on the plate?" Beatrice's eyes welled up. "You may have money, but I have my pride. I won't let you treat me like this." "Who's treating who like what?" said Arthur's friend, reaching for her arm. Celeste moved between them instinctively. Chaos erupted. In her panic, Beatrice snatched a knife from the table and swung. The blade caught Celeste's hand, and blood immediately welled up, dark and urgent. Felix arrived moments later, his presence instantly shifting the energy. He directed staff to escort Arthur's party out before turning his attention to Beatrice, who had collapsed into a faint. Celeste gripped her bleeding hand, her voice tight. "Felix, my hand—it's bleeding bad." For a chef, hands were everything. But Felix didn't look at her, his focus entirely on the unconscious woman in his arms. "Beatrice faints at the sight of blood, and she's pregnant. I have to get her to the hospital." He left without another word. Celeste stood alone, the pain in her hand nothing compared to the chill spreading through her. In that moment, she was almost grateful he didn't know about her own pregnancy. Two more weeks, and she could leave all of this behind for good.