Eight Months Away, She Was Three Months Pregnant

I was stationed in Africa for eight months on a relief project. I flew back specifically for the holidays, hoping to surprise my wife. Instead, my cousin sent me a screenshot. It was my wife’s social media post, one she had specifically blocked me from seeing. She was three months pregnant. When I confronted her about whose kid it was, she had the audacity to claim her company was doing massive layoffs and this was just a “strategic pregnancy” to save her job. I told her to get rid of it or I was filing for divorce. I never imagined that she and my best friend of ten years would actually conspire to murder my mother. I dragged them to court and made sure they got locked away. As for that bastard child? Let him grow up behind bars. 1 I landed on Christmas Eve. As the Director of Research and Development for a medical device company, I had been stationed in Africa for eight long months to support the construction of a field hospital. I came back early just to give my wife, Serena, a surprise. I kept my flight details a secret. All I wanted was to drape that diamond necklace she had been eyeing for months around her neck right before the clock struck midnight. The airport was a sea of twinkling fairy lights and pine garlands. Mariah Carey’s voice echoed endlessly over the speakers. I dragged my suitcase through the terminal, exhausted to the bone but burning with anticipation. The moment I turned off airplane mode, my phone blew up. It was a flood of “Merry Christmas” texts. But one message in my family WhatsApp group stood out like a bleeding wound. My cousin Zoe had posted a screenshot with a caption. “Looks like Serena has a bun in the oven! You kept that a secret, Victor!” The screenshot was from Serena’s Instagram. It showed an ultrasound scan and a mirror selfie of her cradling a slightly swollen belly. The background was the floor-to-ceiling window of our master bedroom. The caption read: “A little Christmas miracle. You are the best gift heaven could give me. Fourteen weeks.” A loud ringing filled my ears. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head in the freezing winter air. Eight months. I had been gone for eight months. Because of a severe viral outbreak lockdown in the region, I had not been home a single time. She was three and a half months pregnant. Whose child was that? My fingers trembled as I clicked into Serena’s profile. Blank. There was nothing but an empty grid and a message saying her posts were hidden from me. It was a mocking scar across the screen. She had specifically blocked me from seeing that post. If Zoe had not taken a screenshot to fish for holiday gossip, I would still be completely in the dark. I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to call her and scream. Instead, I hailed a cab and headed straight home. Outside the window, fireworks burst against the night sky, but my heart was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I pushed the front door open. The heating was turned all the way up, making the air thick and stifling. In the entryway, next to Serena’s pink fluffy slippers, sat a pair of men’s leather shoes. They were not my size. The television in the living room was playing a holiday special, the canned laughter echoing hollowly through the empty first floor. No one was there. Faint giggles drifted down from the second-floor master bedroom. I softened my footsteps and slowly walked up the stairs. The bedroom door was cracked open. Serena’s sweet, breathy voice floated out. “Oh, Declan, be gentle. The doctor said we need to be careful during the first trimester.” “What are you afraid of? My boy is tough.” The man’s voice was deep, familiar, and dripping with sleaze. “Serena, this ‘strategic pregnancy’ idea of yours is pure genius. Those old fools at the board definitely won’t dare touch you now.” “Of course. Corporate is slashing jobs left and right. If I didn’t get pregnant, how else could I secure my spot as a partner? Besides…” Serena paused, her tone turning venomous. “With this get-out-of-jail-free card, even if that other little mess blows up, I can file for medical furlough and avoid doing any real time.” I kicked the door wide open. The two figures on the bed sprang apart like they had been electrocuted. Serena, wearing a sheer silk nightgown, frantically pulled the duvet up to cover her chest. Her face drained of all color. The man standing by the bed was Declan. He was my childhood best friend, the foster kid my mother had taken in and raised alongside me. “Victor?!” Serena’s voice violently shook. “What are you doing here? You said you weren’t coming back for another two weeks!” Declan was much calmer. He lazily buttoned his dress shirt, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. “Well, well. If it isn’t our hometown hero. I guess the malaria mosquitoes over there didn’t finish the job.” I kept my eyes glued to the slight curve of Serena’s stomach. My throat felt like it was lined with broken glass. “Whose is it?” Serena’s eyes darted around the room, refusing to look at me. “The… the company is doing massive layoffs. You know the influencer marketing industry is struggling right now. This is… this is a strategic pregnancy.” “I asked you whose it is!” I grabbed my heavy suitcase and slammed it into the hardwood floor. The deafening crash made Serena flinch. “Does it even matter whose it is?” Her eyes welled with fake tears as she suddenly started screaming at me, playing the victim. “Victor, you left for over half a year! You left me alone to deal with all the corporate backstabbing. Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me? Declan has been the only one helping me. If I didn’t do this, I would have lost my job! I did this to keep my leverage in this house. You don’t even care about what I went through, and the second you walk in, you yell at me?” The sheer audacity of her logic was nauseating. “For your job? For your leverage?” I let out a dry, bitter laugh and pointed at Declan. “So you climbed into my best friend’s bed? You used my money to fund your little affair?” “Watch your mouth, Victor.” Declan stepped forward, shielding Serena, and shoved me hard in the chest. “Serena is pregnant. She cannot handle stress right now. Yeah, the kid is mine, but legally, he will have your last name. You should be thanking me. I saved your wife’s career, and I gave your dead-end bloodline an heir.” I stared at the two parasitic monsters standing in front of me, bile rising in my throat. Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was my mother’s private physician. “Victor! It is an emergency! Your mother had a massive cerebral hemorrhage. She is in the ICU. The police are at the hospital too. They said… they said her company is involved in a massive tax fraud scheme. They are waiting to arrest her!” 2 The hospital at night felt like an isolated island forgotten by the rest of the world. Police officers stood guard outside the ICU, their expressions grim and exhausted. “You are Victor, correct?” The lead detective slid a manila folder across the sterile waiting room table. His tone was strictly business. “Regarding your mother, Eleanor. She is the prime suspect in a five-million-dollar tax evasion and corporate fraud case. The evidence chain is airtight. The money was funneled into an untraceable offshore account. As the legal representative of the company, she holds full criminal liability.” Five million dollars. My mother had run that medical export business for thirty years. She was so meticulous she would not even let a ten-dollar receipt go unaccounted for. There was absolutely no way she scammed anyone out of five million dollars. “That is impossible.” I gripped the folder so hard my knuckles turned white. “My mother barely knows how to use a smartphone. She has no idea how to operate offshore accounts! The company’s finances have always been handled by…” Before I could finish, the elevator doors chimed open. Serena stepped out, her arm intimately looped through Declan’s. She was wearing a vibrant, cherry-red winter coat. In a corridor reeking of bleach and death, that color was sickeningly loud. Her makeup was flawless. She had even touched up her lipstick. There was not a single trace of worry on her face. “Victor, don’t give the detectives a hard time.” Serena rested a hand on her pregnant belly, her tone dripping with the condescending pity of a victor. “Mom is getting old and confused. She probably just wanted to stash some cash away for your future. She must have signed those bogus contracts in a moment of greed.” “You signed them, didn’t you?” I took a step toward her, my eyes burning into hers. “My mom’s cataracts got severely worse over the last six months. She could not read a thing. You were the one reading all her documents to her. You told her where to sign!” Serena instinctively shrank behind Declan, her eyes shifting. “Do not slander me! The handwriting analysts already confirmed it. It is her exact signature. Look, I am pregnant. I cannot handle this kind of shock. If something happens to my baby, can you afford the medical bills?” Declan stepped in front of her, that greasy, triumphant smirk returning to his face. He leaned in and lowered his voice so the cops could not hear. “Give it a rest, Victor. Serena is untouchable right now. Under the law, a pregnant woman, even if indicted, gets bail and medical furlough. She doesn’t see the inside of a cell. This kid is her golden ticket.” A bomb went off in my head. The “strategic pregnancy” was never about saving her corporate job. It was about finding a scapegoat. They had planned this from the very beginning. They drained the company dry, pinned the five million dollars on my mother, and then used Serena’s pregnancy to dodge prison. They were going to walk away rich and completely free. “You sick, twisted animals…” I swung my fist, but a police officer immediately grabbed my arm and pinned it behind my back. “This is a hospital! Back off and calm down!” Right at that moment, the heavy ICU doors pushed open. The attending surgeon walked out, his scrubs soaked in sweat. He pulled down his mask and slowly shook his head. “We did everything we could. The intracranial bleeding was simply too severe. Combined with the fact that she had not taken her heart medication for days… You should go in and say your final goodbyes.” In that split second, my entire universe collapsed. The distant sound of Christmas bells outside morphed into a deafening ring of static in my ears. I shoved past everyone and ran into the room. On the bed, the iron-willed businesswoman who had raised me looked like a fragile, crumpled piece of paper. Tubes and wires snaked out of her frail body. She forced her eyes open. Her cloudy gaze drifted past me and locked onto the glaring red coat standing by the doorway. Her trembling, wrinkled hand slowly lifted, pointing a shaking finger directly at Serena. Her lips moved frantically, trying to form words, but all that came out was a wet, suffocating wheeze. The jagged green line on the heart monitor suddenly flattened into a piercing, continuous tone. The early hours of Christmas morning. While the rest of the world was wrapped in the warmth of family, my mother died, taking the blame for a crime she never committed. I turned my head. Serena was still standing by the door. I clearly saw her let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. She then exchanged a knowing look with Declan. There was no grief in her eyes. Only victory. Her gaze said it all: Dead men tell no tales. They were safe. 3 The funeral was held a few days later, right before the New Year. Because of the looming fraud scandal and the media circus surrounding it, the usually packed memorial hall was terrifyingly empty. All of her former business partners avoided us like the plague. I knelt by the casket, mechanically tossing paper tributes into the small brass fire pit. The flames licked the frigid air, but they could not melt the absolute ice in my veins. Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious commotion shattered the silence. “Hey guys! Smash that like button and subscribe! Today we are bringing you exclusive live coverage of the fraudster’s funeral!” “This is the scammer who stole five million dollars! She might be dead, but debt does not just disappear!” I whipped my head around. Serena and Declan were marching down the aisle with a massive entourage. Alongside Serena’s snobby, materialistic mother, there were at least seven or eight local TikTokers and vloggers holding ring lights and stabilizers. They swarmed the hall like a pack of starving hyenas smelling blood. They shoved their camera lenses right up to my mother’s memorial portrait and loudly critiqued the floral arrangements. “Get the hell out!” I grabbed a heavy wooden ceremonial staff and charged at them, my eyes bloodshot. “This is a funeral! Not a backdrop for your pathetic clout chasing!” “Oh, look who is getting aggressive.” Declan stepped up and blocked my path, playing the victim perfectly for the cameras. “Serena is the daughter-in-law. She is carrying the first grandchild of this family. She is just here to pay her respects. Instead of figuring out how to pay back the people your mother robbed, you want to assault a pregnant woman?” Serena was wearing a custom-tailored black maternity dress that looked ridiculously expensive. She had done her makeup to look incredibly pale and vulnerable. The moment the lenses pointed at her, her eyes brimmed with perfectly timed tears. “Guys, I am just so heartbroken. Yes, my mother-in-law did terrible things, but she is still family. I came here to help make amends. Please do not cyberbully my husband. He is just lashing out because he cannot handle the truth…” Her acting was so flawless it belonged in Hollywood. The live chat on the phones instantly flooded with comments: “Protect Serena at all costs!” “Such a beautiful, strong mom.” “That guy is a violent psycho.” Serena’s mother immediately collapsed onto the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing theatrically. “Oh, Lord in heaven! My poor pregnant daughter comes to pay her respects, and they want to beat her! Where is the justice? Your mother got what she deserved, Victor! Are you trying to bully a defenseless pregnant girl?” My knuckles cracked as I gripped the wooden staff. I wanted nothing more than to smash their skulls in right then and there. But I knew I could not. There were a dozen cameras broadcasting live. If I took a single swing, the label of “Violent Abuser” and “Wife Beater” would be permanently cemented to my name. Seeing me hold back, Declan grew even more arrogant. He pulled a crisp legal document from his tailored jacket and slapped it loudly against the memorial altar. “Victor, we didn’t just come to mourn. We came for business. This is Eleanor’s final will.” Declan waved the paper in the air. “The company might be bankrupt, but your mother still had a few prime real estate properties and trust funds in her name. The will states clearly: everything goes to the unborn child in Serena’s womb.” I stared coldly at the so-called will. The signature looked perfectly like my mother’s. But the date on the document was from the exact month her vision had deteriorated so badly she could not even read large print. “That will is forged.” “It is fully notarized. You think you can fight that?” Declan sneered. “Victor, the house you are living in right now is part of the estate. I need you packed and out by the end of the week. We need to prepare the nursery for Serena. The feng shui there is perfect for raising a baby.” They wanted to move the murderers into the victim’s home to raise their bastard child? It was the ultimate desecration. They were grinding my dignity into the dirt. “Fine.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, dropped the wooden staff, and let my eyes go completely dead. “Take the house. Take the money.” Serena and Declan exchanged a surprised look. They clearly did not expect me to fold that easily. “Glad you finally understand your place.” Serena dabbed at her dry eyes with a tissue. She stepped close, leaning in to whisper directly into my ear. “Accept your fate, Victor. You cannot beat us. This baby is my absolute shield. As long as he is in my belly, there is nothing you can do to me.” I looked at her face, slightly twisted by overwhelming greed, and the very last shred of affection I ever held for her turned to ash. “We will see about that.” 4 I moved into a cheap, rundown motel downtown. On the surface, I spent my days drinking heavily. I posted depressing, self-pitying quotes on my social media, painting the perfect picture of a broken, defeated man who had given up on life. In reality, it was a smokescreen. I needed them to lower their guard. I knew Serena too well. She was greedy, but careless. Declan was ruthless, but arrogant. They thought that because my mother was dead, all the evidence died with her. But they forgot one crucial detail. I used to be the lead engineer for our tech company. And I was still my mother’s son. My mother did not understand modern technology, but she had a habit she kept for thirty years: she always kept meticulous records. Not in a ledger, but in a place they would never think to look. While Serena and Declan were busy moving into my family home and throwing lavish parties, I secretly contacted Martha, our housekeeper of ten years. Martha had always despised Serena’s entitled attitude. “Victor, honey. I got the thing you asked for.” In the dim corner of a quiet diner, Martha handed me a heavy, wrapped package. Her eyes were red and swollen. “Your mother didn’t deserve this. Victor… the night she died, I saw Declan kick her pill bottle under the sofa…” My heart violently clenched. I took the package. Inside was a vintage bronze mantel clock. My late father had bought it at an auction years ago, and it had always sat dead-center on the bookshelf in my mother’s home office. Serena always complained it looked ugly and tried to throw it out multiple times, but my mother fiercely protected it. Because it was not just a clock. I flipped the heavy bronze base over and unscrewed a tiny, hidden bolt. With a soft click, the bottom panel popped open. Resting inside the hollow cavity was a high-grade audio recorder and a high-capacity SD card. It was part of the “home security grid” I had custom-built for my mom. She didn’t know how to access cloud servers, but she knew that as long as this clock was running, it recorded everything that happened in that office. My hands shook as I shoved the SD card into my laptop. Hundreds of video and audio files popped up. I clicked on the one with the most recent timestamp. The video was a top-down angle. The lighting was slightly dim, but the audio was crystal clear. In the background, my mother was coughing violently. “Mom, just sign it. Once the five million is moved offshore, the company dodges the audit. This is all for Victor’s future,” Serena’s voice coaxed sweetly. “No… This is illegal! If that money leaves the country, it is never coming back! What are you two trying to do?” “Listen, you old bat, we are doing you a favor,” Declan’s voice suddenly cut in. Then came the sound of a physical struggle. In the frame, my mother was violently shoved onto the leather sofa. She clutched her chest, her face turning a sickly shade of purple. Her trembling hand reached desperately toward the small bottle of heart pills resting on the coffee table. “Pills… help…” A foot wearing a designer stiletto stepped into the frame. It casually kicked the pill bottle. The plastic bottle rolled across the hardwood floor, disappearing out of the camera’s view, sliding deep under the sofa. “Oh no, the pills fell,” Serena said, her voice as light and bubbly as if she were discussing brunch. “Declan, look how far they rolled. She cannot possibly reach them now.” “Then let her crawl for them. Are you going to sign it? If not, just die!” Declan spat ruthlessly. In the video, my mother writhed in agony. Her fingernails scratched against the leather sofa, making a horrifying, desperate sound. Minutes passed until she finally stopped moving. Serena casually picked up the prepared legal documents, grabbed my mother’s stiffening hand, and pressed her thumb onto the ink pad to stamp the papers. “Is she completely dead?” “Pretty much. Call 911. Let’s put on a show.” The video ended. I clamped my jaw so hard I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Tears were streaming down my face, blurring the laptop screen. This was not a white-collar financial crime. This was murder. Cold-blooded, premeditated murder. But releasing this video to the police right now was not enough. Serena was pregnant, and she had successfully weaponized public sympathy. If I went to the cops, Declan might take the fall, but Serena would use her medical condition to delay trial or claim the video was doctored. They could still escape with millions. I needed to completely annihilate them. I needed to wait until they were at the absolute peak of their arrogance, and then burn their lives to the ground. Right then, a notification popped up on my phone. Trend Alert: Lifestyle influencer Serena to host a massive Valentine’s Day Charity Gala. She will address the inheritance rumors and launch her new organic supplement line: “Mother’s Glow.” Valentine’s Day. What a perfect date. Since you two love putting on a show, I will give you the grand finale of a lifetime.

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