Chapter 1
1202 Words
On our fifth wedding anniversary, Shawn Quinn brought home a pregnant young mistress, Julia Rowe.
Julia gloated, "Heard you married him by getting pregnant back in the day, huh? But yours is a bastard. As for my baby, he locked me in the villa for two whole months, never left my side, and only stopped chasing me until I got pregnant with this child!"
I listened to her brag with perfect calm.
This was nothing new. Over the five years of our marriage, Shawn had brought different women home again and again, each one more openly humiliating than the last.
I had my hysterics over this before, too. Once I stormed up to him, screaming and crying, our newborn—only a month old—tucked in my arms.
Shawn just smiled with contempt and said, "I was away on a two-day business trip back then. That's a difference of three minutes and twenty-one seconds from your calculated conception date. You're sure this child is mine?"
"You should be grateful I still love you enough to put up with your betrayal."
Just then, the new mistress stroked her belly and headed for the master bedroom.
Shawn smiled softly and stuffed a bank card into my arms. "Take good care of her. She's the most obedient. This is for your trouble."
This time, I did not fly into a rage. I simply tucked the card away safely.
He had forgotten—the divorce date we agreed on in the prenuptial agreement was only three days away now.
This rotten marriage, this suspicious, cheating husband—I was done with them for good.
On our fifth wedding anniversary, Shawn Quinn brought home a pregnant young mistress, Julia Rowe.
Julia gloated, "Heard you married him by getting pregnant back in the day, huh? But yours is a bastard. As for my baby, he locked me in the villa for two whole months, never left my side, and only stopped chasing me until I got pregnant with this child!"
I listened to her brag with perfect calm.
This was nothing new. Over the five years of our marriage, Shawn had brought different women home again and again, each one more openly humiliating than the last.
I had my hysterics over this before, too. Once I stormed up to him, screaming and crying, our newborn—only a month old—tucked in my arms.
Shawn just smiled with contempt and said, "I was away on a two-day business trip back then. That's a difference of three minutes and twenty-one seconds from your calculated conception date. You're sure this child is mine?"
"You should be grateful I still love you enough to put up with your betrayal."
Just then, the new mistress stroked her belly and headed for the master bedroom.
Shawn smiled softly and stuffed a bank card into my arms. "Take good care of her. She's the most obedient. This is for your trouble."
This time, I did not fly into a rage. I simply tucked the card away safely.
He had forgotten—the divorce date we agreed on in the prenuptial agreement was only three days away now.
This rotten marriage, this suspicious, cheating husband—I was done with them for good.
……
I had just gotten back to my room when my older brother called.
"I've booked your flight, and Yvonne's transfer application has been processed. Once you've finalized the divorce, you can just come straight home."
I held back my tears. "Thank you, brother."
After I hung up, Shawn pushed open the door and walked in.
He casually unknotted his tie and asked offhandedly, "Who were you talking to just now?"
"My brother," I replied, putting my phone back into my pocket, my voice steady.
Shawn raised an eyebrow, then suddenly snatched my phone out of my hand.
Only after confirming it was really my brother's number—not some other man's—did the tight line of his jaw relax slightly.
He set the phone back into my arms.
I was long used to it. In five years of marriage, he had always suspected whether I was "faithful" to him.
Shawn walked straight toward the walk-in closet. "Where's the bakery that made that chocolate cake you sent me last week?"
It was my daughter Yvonne's birthday, and I had ordered that cake specially for her.
Even though he didn't show up that day, saying he was too busy with work and had to stay late, Yvonne still took my phone and snapped a photo to send to him.
Why would he bring it up out of the blue now? Was he going to do a belated birthday for our daughter?
I couldn't help looking at him. "It's that 'Sweet Dream' shop in the south of the city. Do you need the address?"
"No need, I already know the address." He finished changing his shirt, a faint, almost unnoticeable smile playing on his handsome face. "Ever since Julia got pregnant, she's been craving sweets nonstop. She says everything tastes bitter in her mouth."
"I'm going to buy some for her in person."
I froze, then fell silent again.
Julia was the name of his kept mistress.
Shawn saw the look on my face and suddenly laughed. "Did you think I was buying it for that bastard child? Do you think I'm that low?"
He was mid-sneer when his brow suddenly furrowed tightly. He raised a hand to press against his lower back, and fine beads of cold sweat broke out across his temple.
I stood watching him quietly, remembering the results of the physical exam I had forced him to take—He had severe kidney failure and was in urgent need of a kidney transplant.
Both our daughter and I had undergone tissue matching three days ago. The result came back this morning—our daughter is a perfect match.
How ironic.
He never believed our daughter was his biological child, yet now she was the only one who could save his life.
We had been married for years, after all, so I reminded him softly,
"If you're not feeling well, you should still go to the hospital for a full check-up."
Shawn gave a sneer, his eyes glinting with mockery.
"What? Are you jealous that I'm being nice to her, so you're hoping I'll get sick?"
"Shawn, you really are sick…"
"Jennifer," he cut me off abruptly, closing the distance between us step by step, and tilted my chin up with his fingertip.
"I've always loved you. You betrayed me first, so you have to tolerate another woman giving birth to my child. That's only fair."
I had stopped getting angry over his suspicions a long time ago, but I still clenched my fingers and stared straight into his eyes.
"We did the paternity test. You just refused to believe it."
"You're a researcher at the Institute of Biology. Faking a paternity test report is easy for you. How could I believe you?"
He let go of me, his tone certain and unwavering.
"Don't worry. Even if she gives birth to my child, she'll never threaten your position as Mrs. Quinn. After all, you are my only wife."
- Writer
