He Betrayed Me, I Married His Powerful Uncle

After three years of marriage, I still hadn't gotten pregnant. My husband, the only heir to a wealthy family, put me through his so-called "Ten Levels of Tests." I passed the first nine levels. But when it came to the tenth, he strolled right into our home, openly flaunting his pregnant mistress in his arms. “Since you can't have a kid, you can raise mine instead. This is my final test for you.” The whole family piled on the pressure, telling me to accept this "test." But right in front of everyone, I slapped a copy of his infertility report and his mistress's fake pregnancy certificate down on the table. Under his terrified gaze, I rested my hand on my own belly and smiled softly. "Honey, your test is over. Just because you're shooting blanks doesn't mean I am. Go on, take a guess. Who's the real daddy of the baby in my belly?" …… On our third wedding anniversary, Brandon Hayes did not come home. The candlelit dinner on the table went from warm to cold, and finally turned into a layer of white grease. When the clock struck twelve, I got a photo on my phone. It was a selfie of Brandon. In the background was a messy hotel bed, with a woman's long hair spread across the pillow. He added a caption: [Level One Test: Endurance. Claire, did you pass?] I turned off my phone, dumped the cold food in the trash, and went upstairs to sleep. The next morning, Brandon came home. He reeked of some unfamiliar perfume and last night's heavy drinking. There was even a glaring lipstick mark on his shirt collar. He tossed his car keys onto the entryway cabinet with a loud clatter. He looked at me with a sick kind of anticipation. "What, you're not gonna ask where I was last night?" I brought a bowl of hangover soup out of the kitchen, held it out to him, and gave him a calm, polite smile. "Now that you're home, have some soup. It'll help you sober up and settle your stomach." Brandon's face darkened instantly. He smacked the bowl right out of my hand. Scalding broth splashed onto the back of my hand, leaving it instantly red and swollen. The bowl hit the floor and shattered into pieces. "Claire, cut the act. Do you really not care about me at all?!" I squatted down and quietly cleaned up the broken pieces on the floor without looking at him. "I just don't want to fight." "You don't want to fight?" He laughed coldly, then stomped on the shard in front of me, grinding it into the floor. "You're barren and useless. Who do you think you are, fighting with me?" Just then, my mother-in-law, Linda Hayes, walked down the stairs in a silk nightgown. She glanced at the mess on the floor and gave me a nasty sneer. "What a way to start the morning. Brandon's right. A barren old bird ought to know her place. "The Hayes family has had only one male heir for three generations running. We can't let our bloodline end with you." She walked over to Brandon and patted his back affectionately. "Sweetie, don't waste your anger on this kind of woman. I made you some nourishing soup. Come drink it." I lowered my head and picked up the last piece of broken porcelain. I cut my fingertip, and a bead of blood seeped out. I sucked the blood off my finger. It left a metallic taste in my mouth. Linda coaxed Brandon off to the dining room. I threw out the trash, washed my hands, and just like every other day, went to the kitchen to check on the medicinal soup I prepared for Brandon. Linda stood over me every single day, watching me simmer that pot. She said it's to tone Brandon's body so he can get me pregnant as soon as possible. The soup is dark and smells strongly of herbs. I scooped up a spoonful with a silver spoon and held it to my nose for a gentle sniff. Angelica, astragalus, goji berries... the usual tonic stuff. But underneath that strong herbal smell, I caught a very faint, almost invisible scent. Paris polyphylla. The seven-leaf one-bloom flower. As a top tier private nutritionist, I know every ingredient and medicinal herb like the back of my hand. Paris polyphylla clears heat and removes toxins. But take it in small doses over a long time, and it'll wreck a man's fertility. Permanently. Right at the source. Then it all clicked. It was never that I couldn't get pregnant. This three-year-long "original sin" of infertility they've pinned on me? It was a setup from the very start. I carried the pot of soup into the dining room. Brandon was drinking it impatiently, while Linda watched him eagerly from the side. "Honey, how's the soup?" I asked. He didn't even look up. "Not bad." "Then have more," I said with a smile. "After all, Linda went through all this trouble just for you." Linda lifted her chin proudly. I looked at the two of them, mother and son, and my heart went completely cold. Fine. You love playing these little testing games with me, don't you? All right then. I've got a test for you too.