When my husband’s mistress announced she was pregnant with twins, his family offered me two billion dollars — and a divorce.
No yelling. No tears. Just a polished Chicago law firm, sunlight bouncing off glass walls, and the pen sliding toward me.
“Sign it, Margaret,” my mother-in-law said evenly. Charles Whitmore, my husband, CEO and always composed, didn’t look at me once. I had suspected the affair for months, but hearing pregnant with twins was like being dropped into ice water.
Two billion dollars. Not an apology. Not justice. Just a payout. I signed. I was exhausted. Within weeks, the divorce was finalized, and I left the U.S., disappearing through Greece, France, and Southeast Asia.
Six months later, as I planned a quiet wedding with Ethan Hayes—a kind, steady trauma surgeon—I got the email. Positive. Twelve weeks.
The child wasn’t Ethan’s. It was Charles’s.
The Whitmores had unknowingly paid two billion dollars to erase their true heir. And they had no idea.
That evening, I told Ethan everything. He was quiet for a long moment. Then he asked softly:
“Do you want this baby?”
The story doesn’t end here…