The Ex-wife Strikes Again: A Wrong Heiress

Seraphina’s POV I always knew something was wrong with my marriage. I just didn’t know the exact moment it cracked open like a glass dropped on marble. Maybe it was tonight. Maybe it was a long time ago. Maybe it was the day I fell in love with a man who had no idea how to love anything that breathed. All I know is my hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped Lina’s costume bag while trying to zip her jacket. “Mommy, is Daddy coming?” she asked, her voice small, hopeful, like she believed he could still be someone better than who he really was. My chest tightened. I forced a smile so wide it hurt. “Of course, baby. He said he’d try.” Try. Julian loved that word. It always meant no, but in a way that made you feel guilty for expecting yes. Lina nodded like she believed me, because that’s what five-year-olds do. They believe their parents are superheroes. Even when one of them forgets to show up. We hurried into the school auditorium. Parents everywhere laughing, snapping photos, clapping, acting like they actually liked each other. My throat burned. I kept glancing at the entrance, waiting for Julian to walk in with that cold, handsome face, pretending he wasn’t embarrassed to have a wife like me. He used to kiss me before events. Now he didn’t even text back. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The show started. Still no Julian. I didn’t realize I was digging my nails into my palm until I felt a sting of pain. Lina kept glancing at the door from the stage, searching for her father with those big, bright eyes. She waved at me anyway. I waved back, swallowing the rock in my throat. When the kids finished their first act, I checked my phone again. Still nothing. And then finally a message. Julian: Running late. With Verena. Handle it. Handle it? HANDLE IT? Heat crawled up my neck. I stared at the message like it was a slap. He didn’t call. He didn’t apologize. He was with her the assistant with the perfect hair, the perfect body, and the perfect way of giggling at Julian’s jokes like she’d been practicing for years. I felt something inside me twist. Not break. Twist. Like a knife turning slow. Minutes later, the auditorium doors opened. My stupid heart jumped. I turned. And froze. Julian walked in laughing, his hand on Verena’s back like she belonged to him. Like I didn’t. I swear the world tilted. Lina saw them at the exact moment I did, and the way her little face fell nearly killed me. She stopped mid-step, right in front of the whole audience. One tiny tear slipped down her cheek. Julian didn’t even notice. He was too busy whispering something into Verena’s ear. I felt sick. Heat rose to my face. Shame? Rage? Heartbreak? All of it at once. I couldn’t breathe. I stood up so fast my seat slammed back. That finally made Julian look my way. His smile dropped. “Seraphina?” he muttered like I was the embarrassing one. Like I ruined his night. I didn’t trust myself to speak. If I opened my mouth, I’d scream. He walked toward me, annoyed all over his expression. Verena stayed behind, pretending to look guilty, but she wasn’t. She never was. “You should’ve told them to delay her act,” he said quietly, like he wasn’t the villain in this nightmare. “You know I’m busy.” “You were busy with her?” I whispered, my voice cracking more than I wanted. His jaw tightened. “Not here. Don’t start.” Start? START? I almost laughed because it was hilarious he’d been starting this war for two years and now suddenly wanted peace. Lina ran into my arms the moment the show ended. She didn’t even look at Julian. My heart ached for her. He barely noticed her shaking. The teacher announced there would be snacks in the hallway. Parents poured out. Kids ran in circles. And somewhere between all that noise, between Julian’s fake smile and Verena’s sugary voice, Lina tugged my sleeve. “Mommy… my stomach hurts.” I bent down. “Show me where.” She pressed her hand to her side and winced. Something in my gut dropped. “Julian,” I snapped. “Something’s wrong.” He sighed like I was exaggerating. “She’s probably tired. You always baby her ” Lina suddenly collapsed. Everything after that blurred. I screamed her name. Julian froze. People rushed over. Someone called 911. I held Lina’s small body shaking in my arms, my tears falling on her forehead. Her breathing was uneven and her skin looked wrong, too pale, too cold. “Wake up, baby,” I begged. “Please, stay with me.” The ambulance lights hit my eyes. Someone pulled me back as the EMTs lifted her. Julian kept pacing, swearing under his breath, checking his watch like this was a scheduling nightmare, not our daughter collapsing. At the hospital, nurses rushed her into a room. Julian argued with the staff about VIP rooms. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hit myself for ever loving him. A doctor approached us, holding a clipboard. “We ran emergency tests,” she said. “Your daughter is stable, but we need to confirm a few things about her blood type.” Julian stepped forward. “What does that have to do…” The doctor hesitated. “We need the biological father’s medical history.” Julian straightened. “I’m her father.” The doctor looked between us. Something cold settled in my stomach. “Sir… your blood type is O-positive.” “Yes.” Julian frowned. “So what?” The doctor turned to me. “Your daughter is AB-negative.” My heart stopped. “That combination isn’t genetically possible with your husband as the father.” It felt like the ground opened beneath me. Julian went pale, then red, then pale again. “What the hell are you implying?” The doctor braced herself. “Medically speaking… you are not her biological parent.”