His Mistress's Child, Now Mine

I’ve been married to Lucas for seven years, and I’ve lost count of how many women he’s slept with.

The reason I never made a fuss is simple—he always throws money at me to shut me up.

When he cheated with an online influencer, he bought me a penthouse in the city center.

When he partied on a yacht with models, he gave me an identical yacht.

He used money to buy my silence, to purchase my breakdowns, my questions, and my tears.

Until I was eight months pregnant, and my baby died in my womb. I had to go through induced labor.

The nanny helped me out of my hospital room, weak and barely able to stand.

That’s when I saw Lucas in the room next door, carefully tending to a woman who had just given birth.

Our eyes met. Panic flashed across his face for a moment before his usual cold indifference returned.

He walked over and handed me a blank check.

“Fill in whatever amount you want.”

I tore the check to pieces.

I looked at him and smiled.

“Lucas, I don’t want your money this time…”

I raised my trembling hand and pointed toward the room behind him, where a baby’s weak crying could be heard.

“I want that child.”

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