My husband, Damon Blackwood, told me he had azoospermia. He said he couldn’t have children. I believed him until his childhood sweetheart, Tiffany Sinclair, showed up five months pregnant. She invited him to a maternity photo shoot. In the pictures she posted online, Damon stood behind her, his hand gently resting on her swollen belly, his expression tender and proud.
When I saw the post, I screamed. But Damon? He looked annoyed.
“She’s going to be single for life,” he said flatly. “She just wanted a child. I let her use my sperm Don’t be so petty.”
Then he pinned the post to the top of his profile. His parents commented with hearts and praise. They even promised the woman a villa if she gave them a grandson.
Seeing that I was speechless, Damon scoffed, “Don’t be so unreasonable. My parents love children. They’ve watched Tiffany grow up, they just want to feel close to her. I don’t have time for this. I’m hanging up.”
This man, He claimed he was broke, yet made me split the cost of condoms with him. Meanwhile, Tiffany sent me a voice message, smug and syrupy, “Elena doesn’t know I’m rich. I’m just pretending to be poor to test her. Who knows if she’s only after my money?”
“But you’re different, Tiffany. I’m not pretending to you. You can buy Hermès bags whenever you want. I will always buy it for you”
I stared at the photo of her closet, overflowing with Hermès bags and laughed bitterly. Then I turned to the one man who had always tried to steal me from Damon. His best friend, Leo Carter.
“If you can get him to sign the divorce papers,” I said calmly,
“I’ll go with you to register our marriage tomorrow.”
Leo got my message and came running literally. He blew through five red lights to get to me.
When he arrived, he grabbed my hand, breathless and glowing. “Are you serious?” Before I could answer, he hooked his pinky with mine. “Cross my heart. It’s settled, then.”
He was giddy, like a man who’d finally won the lottery. “All that time I spent prying him away and chasing after you, it was worth it.”
I handed him the divorce agreement. “If you can get Damon to sign this, I’ll marry you the next day. I’m not joking.” Leo grinned. “Leave it to me. Just have your ID ready I’ll handle the rest.”
That evening, I returned home. The moment I pushed open the door, I froze. My things had been packed up and dumped outside.
A designer pajama set I didn’t recognize hung neatly on my coat rack. My handbag? Tossed like trash, lying half–buried in the bin. Even my laptop was smeared with greasy crumbs and sticky stains.
“Is Elena Whitmore back?” Tiffany’s voice floated lazily from the living room. She was sprawled on the sofa, watching a short drama while stuffing her face with snacks.
Chapter 1
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2:49 am
When she noticed me, she gave a sweet, fake smile. “My house is being renovated,” she said innocently. “Damon said I could stay here for a while. You don’t mind, do you?”
I said nothing. Just took out some tissues and began wiping my laptop clean. My expression faltered. I pouted and sniffled. My eyes welling with tears.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to mess up your laptop. The baby’s been making me really hungry lately. I just couldn’t help myself…”
She rubbed her swollen belly like it was some kind of trophy. But her gesture burned my eyes.
“You don’t need to apologize,” came a cold voice.
Damon walked in, frowning at me. “It’s just a little mess. You can clean it up later.”
He turned to me with a hint of annoyance. “Elena, your room gets the best sunlight. Let Tiffany stay there. She needs natural light for the baby.”
C
I looked at him in stunned disbelief. “Damon… do you even remember whose house this is?”
He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Of course I do. But Tiffany’s house is under renovation. She’s just staying here temporarily. What’s the big deal?”
“You’re not really going to argue with a pregnant woman over a room, are you?”
2:50 am 04 MA
