My wife has been in London for six months on a professional exchange program. Coincidentally, our wedding anniversary was coming up. Wanting to surprise her, I secretly booked a flight to London. Little did I know, she had her own “surprise” for me. She was pregnant. Her belly was visibly round, at least six months along. Under pressure, she revealed the truth: her first love, Bryce Adler, was in the late stages of cancer and wanted to leave behind an heir. Out of pity, she agreed to have his child. When I heard this, I was furious. Yet, she had the audacity to look me in the eye and say, “I just wanted to help him leave a legacy. Is that wrong?” I was trembling with rage. A woman like this wasn’t worth keeping. Content The day before our wedding anniversary, my wife, Naomi Blake, and I were texting. Me: “Honey, tomorrow is our fifth anniversary. We’ve celebrated the first four together, but this year you’re all the way across the ocean. I feel so lonely—I’m tempted to book a ticket and come see you right now.” Naomi: “Don’t. You’re so busy at work, and tickets are expensive. Just hang in there for six more months. I’ll be back before you know it.” Me: “Alright, if you say so.” What she didn’t know was that I’d already booked the ticket to London. I wanted to surprise her. The next morning, I boarded the plane. After six hours in the air, I arrived in London, clutching a bouquet of roses. Excited, I knocked on the door of her apartment. The door opened, and there she was. “Surprise!” I beamed. “Did I catch you off guard?” “E-Ethan?” she stammered, her face a mix of shock and unease. “That’s right—your loving husband traveled all this way to see you!” I said, moving in to embrace her. But something hard pressed against me. Looking down, I saw her belly. Round and unmistakably pregnant. At least six months along. My heart dropped. “Y-you’re pregnant?” I asked, my voice trembling in disbelief. “Come inside,” she said, pulling me in and shutting the door. “You must be exhausted. Sit down; I’ll get you some water.” “I don’t want water,” I snapped, throwing the roses onto the floor. “I want to know what the hell is going on.” “As you can see, I’m pregnant,” she said calmly. “You told me you were infertile! How is this even possible?” After our marriage, she had tearfully shown me a medical report claiming she couldn’t have children. I had held her and reassured her that kids didn’t matter to me—what mattered was that we had each other. I even suggested adoption. “I… I can actually have children,” she admitted, looking like a guilty child caught red-handed. “What about the report?!” “I faked it,” she confessed. It turned out she wasn’t infertile. She had fabricated the diagnosis to avoid having children, as she feared it would derail her career during its peak. “Then whose child is it?” I growled through gritted teeth. “Ethan, watch your words. This isn’t some bastard child.” “You want to act righteous after what you’ve done?!” I shot back, fury overtaking me. “Don’t be cruel,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. “Tell me. Who’s the father?” I demanded. “It’s… Bryce Adler’s.” I froze. Bryce Adler—her first love. And a married man. “You rekindled your old flame?” “It’s not like that,” she said hastily. “He has late-stage cancer. He wanted a child to carry on his name. I pitied him and agreed, but it was artificial insemination. I swear I never betrayed you.” Her words shattered my world. “How could you do something so insane? You’re a married woman!” “His wife can’t have children,” she said softly. “So you decided to step in and play surrogate?!” “He begged me, Ethan. I couldn’t say no.” “You’re such a kind and thoughtful woman,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why stop with Bryce? A few of my colleagues are infertile—maybe you can help them too.” “Ethan Whitaker, you’re disgusting.” “Not as disgusting as you are.” “I just wanted to help him leave a legacy. What’s so wrong about that?” she said, her voice defiant.
My blood boiled. She had volunteered for this program, claiming it would help her career, but now I saw it was all a cover to hide her pregnancy in another country. “A married woman having a child for another married man—you think that’s acceptable?!” I shouted. “Ethan, don’t be angry,” she said soothingly. “Once I have this baby, I promise we can have one of our own.” “Terminate the pregnancy now, or we’re done,” I said, my voice ice cold. “It’s six months along—I can’t. And besides, it’s a life. It’s my baby. How could you say something so cruel?” Tears streamed down her face as she glared at me. I noticed a used ashtray on the coffee table and men’s underwear drying on the balcony. My rage ignited anew. “Is Bryce living with you?” I snarled. Her face turned crimson, and she stammered, “No… He just visits occasionally. To… to check on the baby.” “So that’s why you didn’t want me to visit. You didn’t want me to catch you two in the act.” “Ethan, don’t twist things! Nothing happened between us,” she said, her face red with embarrassment. Just then, the door opened. “Naomi, I bought you a maternity nightgown and some nursing bras. Try them on and see if they fit,” Bryce said as he walked in. When he saw me, he froze. “Bryce, you need to leave,” Naomi said hastily. “Ethan and I need to talk.” “Why are you crying?” Bryce asked, moving to her side with concern. “I’m fine. Just go.” “Did he hurt you?” Bryce turned to me, his expression dark. “Ethan Whitaker, are you even a man? If you’ve got a problem, take it out on me.” “Gladly,” I said, swinging my fist at him. “Stop!” Naomi stepped between us, crying. “Ethan, how can you hit a cancer patient?” “Move, or I’ll hit you both,” I growled. “Ethan, you’re out of line! She’s pregnant!” Bryce shouted. “She seems more like your wife than mine,” I said bitterly. Naomi stretched her arms out to shield Bryce. “I won’t let you hurt him!” Enraged, I shoved her aside and kicked Bryce in the stomach. He doubled over in pain. “You… you hit me?” Bryce gasped, clutching his stomach. I didn’t stop. Naomi clung to me, begging, “Please, Ethan! Don’t do this. You’ll kill him!” “You don’t get to defend him!” I roared. “Then hit me instead!” she cried, collapsing to her knees. This woman—my wife—protecting another man. The humiliation was unbearable. Bryce coughed up blood, his voice trembling. “If something happens to my child, Ethan Whitaker, I’ll make you pay.” “Your child?” I spat, throwing another punch at his face. The chaos was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Security. Open up!” Naomi’s face drained of color.
Bryce Adler hurried to open the door. Two building security officers stood outside, flanked by a group of curious neighbors. It seemed the commotion had drawn attention, and someone had called security. “Officers, this man broke into my home and assaulted both me and my wife!” Bryce pointed at me, his tone accusatory. “You better clarify,” I growled. “Who’s wife are you talking about?” The neighbors behind the officers began speaking at once. “I’ve never seen that guy before. But Mr. Adler and Ms. Blake? They’re married—introduced themselves when they moved in,” said one male neighbor. “Yeah, they’re a couple. We even had dinner with them once,” chimed another. “Everyone on this floor knows Mr. Adler and Ms. Blake. This other guy looks like trouble—he’s probably some kind of criminal. Just look at Mr. Adler’s face—it’s all bruised. You should call the police!” Bryce smirked, a triumphant and mocking expression that made my blood boil. In a foreign land, I had no way of proving Naomi Blake was my wife. I turned to her, barely suppressing my rage. “Naomi, tell them yourself—who are you married to?” The neighbors turned their eyes to her. She flushed, hesitating for a moment before finally pointing at me. Relief washed over me. But then she opened her mouth. “I don’t know him,” Naomi said, pointing at Bryce instead. “He’s my husband.” My mind exploded. I stood there, dazed and disoriented, as the police arrived and took us all in for questioning. At the police station, Naomi finally told the truth: I was her husband. However, because Bryce held permanent residency in London, technically making him a partial citizen, and I had assaulted him, I was held responsible. Bryce smugly offered a deal: apologize, stop causing trouble, and let Naomi carry the baby to term, and he’d drop the charges. I refused and was thrown in jail. Three days later, I was released. Standing outside, I saw Naomi waiting for me. Her pregnant belly—a symbol of betrayal—stood out starkly against the winter coat she wore. She approached me, her tone a mix of smugness and disdain. “I begged Bryce to let you go. You see how generous he is? Not like you, always so petty.” “Oh, you’re right,” I replied coldly. “In this modern age, sharing a wife shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” “Do you have to be so sarcastic?” she snapped. She handed me the key to a hotel room. “Stay here and cool off. Call me when you’re ready to talk.” I laughed bitterly. How had this turned into my fault? Two days later, I called Naomi and suggested we meet to “discuss things.” She seemed relieved, thinking I had finally come around to her perspective. She eagerly set up a meeting at the Golden Banquet Hall in 7th Street. The next afternoon, I arrived at the restaurant. A waiter led me to a private dining room, where Naomi and Bryce were already seated. I took the seat across from them, placing my phone discreetly on the table. The table was already laden with dishes. “Ethan, I know I crossed a line, but you hit me, so we’re even. Let’s bury the hatchet. Here’s to a fresh start!” Bryce raised his glass in a toast. I took a small sip. His smirk faltered, but he didn’t press the issue. “Ethan, Bryce is being sincere. Why can’t you just finish the drink?” Naomi chided me. “Forget it, Naomi. Let’s get to the point,” Bryce interjected. “I’m dying, Ethan—stage IV cancer. I don’t have much time left, and I need an heir. It’s the most basic duty of a man. Please try to understand.” I raised an eyebrow. “You look pretty healthy for someone on death’s door.” “Looks can be deceiving. The tumors are eating me alive.” He pulled out a bank card and placed it in front of me. “Here’s $20,000. The password is Naomi’s birthday. Consider it compensation.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Why stop there? Add another zero, and Naomi’s all yours.” “Ethan, stop being so childish!” Naomi snapped. “Alright, alright. My bad,” I said with a smirk. “But let’s be real, $20,000 won’t even cover raising your kid.” “Don’t worry about that. Once the baby is born, I’ll take it to my mom in the countryside to raise,” Bryce said. “And your wife won’t find out?” I asked. “She hates the countryside and hasn’t visited my mom since we got married. She’ll never know.” Bryce sounded almost proud. “You’re hiding a child from your wife, and you feel no guilt?” He sighed dramatically. “What guilt? She can’t have kids—what kind of wife is that?” “And you found someone who could lay eggs for you. How convenient.” I emphasized the word “eggs,” my voice dripping with mockery. Naomi bristled. “Ethan, you’ve taken the money. Shouldn’t you be satisfied?” I chuckled. “Sure, let’s settle this. But this isn’t a three-person decision.” “What do you mean?” Bryce and Naomi asked in unison. At that moment, the door burst open.
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