Chapter 1: The Woman He Chose Over His Pregnant Wife
The slap echoed across the marble entrance of the Oakmont Luxury Hotel, and the next thing I felt was the sharp edge of a brass railing pressing against my back.
My hand flew to my seven-month-pregnant stomach.
But my husband didn't reach for me.
He reached for the woman who had just slapped me.
"Vivian, are you okay?"" Marcus asked, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.
For a moment, I genuinely couldn't understand what I was seeing.
I was his wife. I was carrying his child. Three years earlier, he had promised to protect me through everything life could bring.
Yet there he stood, shielding another woman while I struggled to remain standing.
Vivian Cross adjusted the sleeve of her cream-colored designer jacket. Her blonde hair fell perfectly over one shoulder, and her expensive heels clicked against the marble as she stepped closer.
"You really should learn when to leave, Natalie," she said.
"Nobody invited you to ruin this afternoon.""
I stared at her.
"Marcus, tell me what's happening.""
He exhaled impatiently.
"Not here.""
"She just hit me.""
"I saw what happened.""
"Then why are you standing beside her?""
His jaw tightened.
"Because you're making this worse.""
I felt something inside me break.
Not because of the slap.
Because of how easily he dismissed it.
A hotel employee standing near the reception desk looked uncomfortable. Two guests had stopped walking. An older woman near the elevators whispered something to her husband.
I wanted to disappear.
Instead, I forced myself to stand straight.
"Marcus, you told me your mother wanted me here for an important family trust meeting. You said this concerned our baby.""
Vivian laughed.
"Oh, sweetheart. You actually believed that?""
I turned toward her.
"What are you talking about?""
She opened her purse, removed a small compact mirror, and checked her lipstick.
"Marcus didn't bring you here for a family meeting. He brought you here because he didn't want to deal with you at home.""
"Vivian," Marcus warned.
But she ignored him.
"Besides, he and I are done pretending.""
My fingers tightened around the strap of my handbag.
"Done pretending what?""
She looked directly into my eyes.
"That I'm just his business consultant.""
The lobby suddenly felt colder.
I looked at Marcus.
He didn't deny it.
For months, I had noticed strange things.
Late-night calls.
Business trips that appeared on his calendar at the last minute.
A new password on his phone.
The expensive perfume I sometimes smelled on his shirts.
Whenever I asked, Marcus had the same explanation.
Work was overwhelming.
The company was expanding.
Investors were demanding more of his time.
And because I loved him, I accepted every explanation.
I remembered the fertility clinic.
The injections.
The blood tests.
The mornings I cried in the bathroom because another pregnancy test was negative.
I remembered Marcus sitting beside me on the bedroom floor after our third failed treatment.
He had held my face between his hands.
"One day, Natalie. I promise we'll have our family.""
When we finally heard our baby's heartbeat, he cried harder than I did.
He kissed my stomach every night.
He told our unborn child that Daddy was already waiting.
Now he stood beside Vivian as if those memories had never existed.
"Is she telling the truth?"" I asked.
Marcus looked at his watch.
"You're not going to like the answer.""
"Try me.""
He glanced toward the hotel entrance.
"Vivian and I are together.""
I felt my knees weaken.
"How long?""
"That doesn't matter.""
"It matters to me!""
He lowered his voice.
"Three months.""
Three months.
I calculated the dates automatically.
Three months ago, he had taken me to dinner for our anniversary. He had bought me a diamond bracelet and told me I was the only woman he would ever want.
Three months ago, he had kissed my stomach and promised our daughter would never grow up without knowing what a loving marriage looked like.
I looked down at my wedding ring.
"Does your mother know?""
Vivian smiled.
"She's about to.""
Marcus finally turned toward me.
"That's why I wanted you to understand something before she arrives.""
My heart started pounding.
"What?""
"I want a divorce.""
The words came out casually, almost like he was canceling a dinner reservation.
I stared at him.
"You want a divorce?""
"Yes.""
"While I'm seven months pregnant?""
"We can discuss financial arrangements through lawyers.""
I couldn't believe him.
"Our daughter isn't even born yet.""
"Don't make this about the baby.""
I actually laughed, although tears were gathering in my eyes.
"How could I possibly not make this about our baby?""
Vivian stepped between us.
"Marcus has already made his decision. You should respect that.""
I looked at her.
"You think you're going to become his wife?""
Her smile widened.
"I don't think. I know.""
Marcus reached for my arm.
"Listen carefully, Natalie. You're going home. Get an Uber. Don't contact my mother about this, and don't embarrass me in front of the family.""
I pulled my arm away.
"Your mother invited me.""
"I changed the arrangements.""
"Then call her and explain why your pregnant wife is standing here with a handprint on her face.""
His expression hardened.
"Stop acting like a victim.""
That sentence hurt more than anything else he had said.
I stepped backward, trying to steady my breathing.
My baby moved beneath my palm.
"Your daughter is kicking," I whispered.
Marcus looked at my stomach.
For one brief second, I thought I saw something familiar in his expression.
Then his phone vibrated.
He checked it immediately.
Whatever softness had appeared vanished.
Vivian leaned toward him.
"Your mother is here.""
A black Lincoln Town Car pulled into the VIP entrance.
Marcus straightened his tie, brushed imaginary dust from his jacket, and adjusted his expensive watch.
He suddenly looked like the successful businessman everyone admired.
The rear door opened.
Eleanor Hale stepped onto the pavement.
At sixty-eight, Marcus's mother possessed the kind of authority that made people lower their voices without being asked. Her silver hair was neatly styled, and she wore a tailored navy suit.
In one hand, she carried a thick leather folder.
Marcus walked toward her with a practiced smile.
"Mom. I'm glad you made it.""
But Eleanor didn't return his smile.
Her eyes had already found me.
She noticed my swollen eyes.
Then my trembling hands.
Finally, the red mark spreading across my cheek.
She walked past her son without acknowledging him.
She stopped directly in front of me.
Her voice was quiet.
"Who did this?""
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Marcus suddenly stopped smiling.
And for the first time that afternoon, my husband looked genuinely afraid.
