Pregnant and Beaten for His Mistress

My husband, Liam Miller, who’s the CEO of his company, pushed me to the floor again as he headed out late with his assistant, Mia Brown.

I was five months pregnant. The second I hit the ground, I started bleeding. My abdomen cramped violently—a terrifying sign that I might miscarry. I begged Liam to help me.

But he just scoffed and accused me of faking it. “Trying to guilt-trip me with the baby? Have you no shame?”

Then he slammed the door and left.

The pain was so intense I nearly passed out, but I mustered every bit of strength to call 91 After surgery, the baby was gone. I tried calling Liam, but his phone went straight to voicemail.

A little while later, I saw Mia Brown’s Instagram post:

“Unforgettable night Can’t wait to do this again soon!”

The photo showed clothes strewn across the floor, a couple of used condom wrappers, and a very intimate selfie of her and Liam.

As soon as I was released from the hospital, I told my mom, “I want a divorce.”

1. Mom looked at me, her face a mix of shock and relief.

She’d never liked Liam, but she knew how much I’d loved him.

I never would’ve given up so easily if I hadn’t been completely broken.

My dad, who’d spent years climbing the corporate ladder himself, spoke up.

“If you’re going to end it, do it properly. It’s always better to part on good terms.”

I shook my head, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth.

Just last week, while I was still in the hospital, Mia had posted again.

“Spontaneous hot springs trip! Shoutout to Liam Miller for this amazing surprise team retreat~”

The photo showed them in matching robes, posed against the steamy backdrop of the hot springs. Mia was practically leaning into Liam’s shoulder, flashing a heart sign at the camera. In the background, I could just make out the private hot spring villa of a fancy resort.

I recognized it instantly.

Liam was wearing that dark blue robe I’d specially picked out for his birthday last year—the one he’d always called “too flashy” and refused to wear.

I called to confront him about it.

Liam didn’t even flinch.

“Mia’s team hit their performance targets. It was a company team-building trip, and as the exec in charge, I just went as a formality.”

“It’s a group thing—good for team morale. Totally normal.”

Mia’s sickly sweet voice came through the line, muffled like she was speaking through a cloud of steam:

“Liam, I forgot my towel. Can you grab it for me? It’s right on the rack next to you.”

Liam calmly replied, “Sure.”

Finally, like he was doing me a favor—or maybe just justifying himself—he said,

“Chloe, team-building is part of work. Being this paranoid is only going to drive us apart. I brought her along to help her integrate faster. I’m just trying to fix the issues you created.”

My chest felt like it was being stabbed—this suffocating pain that made it hard to breathe.

Even now, he could spin their private hot spring trip into some “team-building” event and blame it all on my so-called “issues.”

I texted him a photo of my miscarriage report. His response? Just:

“The baby’s gone, whatever. Don’t try to play victim with this.”

“At the end of the day, isn’t it your fault for not being able to keep the baby?”

It was laughable, really.

I’d been five months pregnant, careful with every step. If Liam hadn’t pushed me because of Mia, none of this would’ve happened.

But every angry text I sent got blocked immediately.

I stared at the failed message notification, my vision going blurry.

Liam had blocked me! He was worried I’d ruin their little “team-building” trip.

I guess I’d been too easy on him—made him think he could do whatever he wanted and I’d just take it.

But he was wrong.

No one sticks around forever, holding onto nothing.