Divorced On Live TV, Claimed By The Stepbrother

“As of today, Vivienne and I are divorcing.” For a second, the syllables meant nothing. They were foreign sounds drifting across a room that had suddenly turned to ice. The ballroom fell silent, but the silence felt louder than the music playing moments earlier. Divorcing? The word echoed mockingly in my mind. My fingers tightened around the velvet box in my hand, its corners digging into my palm. Onstage, my husband stood beneath the glittering chandeliers, looking as composed as ever. The tailored black suit I'd picked out for him fitted perfectly, his dark hair swept neatly away from his forehead. One hand rested possessively on the rounded belly of the woman beside him, while his gold wedding ring gleamed on his finger. My husband was announcing our divorce. On the day of our f*****g fourth anniversary. I stared at him, waiting for the punchline or some indication that this was an elaborate joke. Nathaniel knew how much tonight meant to me. He'd promised an important announcement, and I'd spent weeks anticipating something we could celebrate together. When he offered no explanation, my feet moved towards the stage. Pathetic. I knew it, but I was desperate. Surely, there had to be a mistake. Nathaniel wouldn't do this. Not in public. Not to me. He raised the microphone again. “Before we proceed, I believe everyone deserves to know the reason behind this decision.” His gaze shifted to the woman beside him. “This is Celeste.” Her smile widened. She didn't offer me her hand. Instead, she slipped her arm deeper through Nathaniel's and leaned against his chest as though she had every right to be there. His hand settled over her stomach. “The woman carrying my child.” My eyes dropped to his hand, then to her belly, swelling with a life I'd been desperate to give him. Finally, I looked at the gold band on his finger, a symbol of vows he'd shattered without a second thought. I couldn't breathe. A baby. Nathaniel and I had spent four years trying to have a child. Four years of hospital appointments, hopeful words, and sleepless nights wondering what was wrong with me. Four years of watching his disappointment grow whenever another month passed without the news we desperately wanted. And now, in front of hundreds of people, he was announcing that another woman was carrying his child. Celeste rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers curling around his arm. When her eyes met mine, her smile widened just a fraction. Something inside my chest cracked. “Nathaniel.” He ignored me. “This is the woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with,” he announced. “And the mother of my child.” For a moment, I thought about the velvet box in my hands. Inside was a vintage wristwatch Nathaniel had admired months ago. I'd spent weeks searching for one in good condition, contacting collectors until I finally found it. I'd imagined his face lighting up when he opened it tonight, followed by a kiss and the reassurance that he still loved me despite everything we'd endured. My fingers loosened. The box slipped from my hands and struck the marble floor. The small sound made me flinch. Nathaniel glanced at me, and our eyes met. I waited for him to acknowledge me, to explain that there had been some terrible misunderstanding. Instead, he raised one finger. “One more thing.” The crowd quieted. My stomach twisted. “As many of you know, Vivienne joined this family almost four years ago. I appreciate everything she has done for me and this family.” This family. I almost laughed. Was I an outsider who'd been permitted to stay until something better came along? “But every relationship has an end,” he continued. “Sometimes, the best decision is to move forward separately.” My heart hammered against my ribs. “Nathaniel…” He didn't answer. “As of today, Vivienne and I are divorcing.” This time, there was no mistaking his words. Gasps swept through the ballroom as camera flashes erupted around me. I stood frozen for another heartbeat before gathering what little dignity I had left and following them as they stepped down from the stage. “Was this why you invited me here?” My voice trembled. “So you could humiliate me in front of everyone?” Nathaniel barely looked at me, his eyes flicking over me as though I were an inconvenient stranger. “You brought me here on our anniversary, announced another woman's pregnancy, and then told the entire world you're divorcing me!” “Lower your voice.” I stared at him through the tears blurring my vision. “Lower my voice? You just announced our divorce in front of hundreds of people!” “And you're making a scene.” His irritation was so effortless that I briefly forgot how to breathe. His gaze travelled down my body, lingering on my dress. “You already look pathetic enough tonight. Don't make it worse.” My hand flew to my waist. The boning pressed painfully against my ribs. I'd spent the entire evening forcing myself to stand straight and smile, desperate to look like the wife Nathaniel could be proud of. “She's pregnant,” I whispered. His expression didn't change. “She's carrying my heir.” I swallowed hard. “And what am I?” He said nothing. I searched his face for something familiar. A trace of affection. A flicker of regret. Anything that might convince me this wasn't the man who'd held my hands on our wedding day and promised we'd face everything together. It was useless. “Four years,” I whispered. “I was your wife for four years. I did everything I could.” “Clearly, it wasn't enough.” The words struck deeper than I wanted to admit. His gaze dropped briefly to my stomach. “Four years, Vivienne. Four years, and you couldn't give me a child. What exactly do you expect me to stay for?” My cheeks burned. I'd endured countless appointments and swallowed every medication prescribed to me. I'd cried over every failed attempt, wondering whether I'd ever hold a child of my own. He knew all of it. Yet he stood before me, using my greatest heartbreak as a weapon. For years, Nathaniel had criticised my curves and complained about my weight, making me feel as though I was never enough. I'd convinced myself that if I tried harder, looked better, and became the wife he wanted, he'd love me as he once had. Now, I wondered whether he'd ever been satisfied with me at all. “We're done,” he said, patting my shoulder dismissively. “Pack your things. My lawyer will contact you.” Then he turned away. Celeste slipped her arm around his waist, and he drew her closer as they disappeared into the crowd. Just like that, four years of marriage meant nothing. I bent to retrieve the velvet box, my fingers trembling as I closed it. Around me, the guests watched with barely concealed curiosity. Nobody asked if I was all right. Nobody came to comfort me. I was simply the disgraced wife whose husband had replaced her in front of an audience. I forced myself towards the exit before my legs could give out. The moment I stepped outside, rain struck my face. Within seconds, my hair and dress were soaked, but I barely noticed. I stumbled down the steps and sank onto the wet pavement. A sob escaped me, followed by another. I covered my mouth, but the tears wouldn't stop. God, this was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. I'd imagined celebrating four years of marriage, perhaps hearing Nathaniel promise that we'd face our struggles together. I'd hoped for one evening when I could feel loved without having to earn it. Instead, I'd lost my husband in front of the entire world. My fingers curled around the wet fabric of my dress. It's a size too small for me, Nath. I could still hear my voice from that morning, standing before our bedroom mirror with the dress he'd chosen. I know, baby. Consider it motivation to lose some weight. He'd toss it onto the bed with a careless smile. You've let yourself go too much recently. I can't have you looking round and soft beside me onstage. I'd barely eaten for three days, forcing myself into the dress despite the pain. I'd adjusted the fabric before the mirror, practising my smile and hoping to look beautiful enough for my husband to be proud of me. I'd thought that if I tried hard enough, I could make him happy. And somehow, I'd mistaken that for love. “Vivienne.” The familiar voice barely carried above the rain. I lifted my head, thinking exhaustion had begun to play tricks on me. “Vivienne.” This time, the voice was closer. The rain stopped striking my face. Confused, I looked up. A man stood before me, holding a black umbrella. Water dripped from its edges as the streetlights illuminated his features. I blinked away my tears. Then I saw his eyes. Familiar blue eyes stared back at me, his expression tight with an emotion I couldn't quite understand. His grip on the umbrella handle was so firm that his knuckles had turned pale. He looked at me as though seeing me like this hurt him. My breath caught. I struggled to my feet, clutching the velvet box against my chest. It couldn't be him. Not tonight. But there was no mistaking that face. My lips trembled as I took a hesitant step towards him. “Dad?”