Nights spent on baby duty. I glanced at Scarlett’s phone, the screen still glowing, revealing a distress post: “OMG, my fertility is out of control! My second baby isn’t even three months old, and I’m pregnant again…” My initial thought was, *Wow, how reckless can you be?* Then I looked closer. Wait, was this post… by my own wife? But ever since our child was born, she’d rejected my advances, claiming she hadn’t recovered yet. I kept my poker face, started digging, and the more I dug, the greener my head got. I was being cuckolded. Not only was the kid not mine, but even her parents were fakes! After feeding our son his night bottle and coaxing him to sleep, I was exhausted. The moment my head finally hit the pillow, my mind snapped wide awake. I turned to see Scarlett sleeping soundly beside me, letting out tiny snores like a little piglet. Smiling, I tried to gently move her phone from by her head. In the dark, the faint glow of the screen was blinding. As I went to lock it, my eyes snagged on the open app. It was a distress post: “OMG, my fertility is out of control! My second baby isn’t even three months old, and I’m pregnant again…” I mumbled to myself, *Wow, how careless could someone be?* Because I knew, since our kid was born, Scarlett and I hadn’t had any intimate moments. During her pregnancy, I’d been extra careful, terrified of hurting her or the baby, so I’d always taken care of things myself. Finally, Scarlett’s six-week postpartum check-up came back normal. But she kept saying she needed more time to recover, and I respected that. But then I looked closer. This wasn’t some random post Scarlett had scrolled past; she’d posted it herself! Below the post, the comments were brutal: “‘Fertility out of control’? More like no birth control!” “Then have it! Hope you have octuplets!” “Can’t you just use a shoe? Do you *have* to leave something inside?” “Everyone chill, the blogger’s husband drives a Cullinan! With that kind of money, she can have as many as she wants!” The insults were endless, each one nastier than the last. But for me, at that moment, nothing was more chilling than realizing the poster was my own wife, Scarlett. And we had two kids already. Looking at my sleeping wife, my whole body trembled uncontrollably. My phone almost slipped from my grasp. Right then, only one thought echoed in my mind: *My wife is pregnant.* Fighting down the panic, I forced myself to tap her profile picture and enter her page. What greeted me, besides a flood of ostentatious posts, was her constant bragging about her daily life. And a black Rolls-Royce Cullinan was another ultimate target of mockery in those posts. Given our current financial situation, a Cullinan was clearly more than just “a bit out of reach.” In one photo, Scarlett, in a short skirt and black stockings, had her long legs provocatively crossed in the back seat. The caption read: “A woman who is loved is the happiest.” Great. My cuckoldry even came with a Rolls-Royce Cullinan. I remembered how, to marry Scarlett, I’d built my life from scratch, working tirelessly for three years. For three years, I hadn’t taken a single day off. Every day, I was either at the office or meeting clients. That’s how I finally bought a car and a house, achieving a comfortable, middle-class life. And to earn her parents’ respect and prove I was worthy of their daughter, I’d poured most of my savings into the dowry, just so I could stand tall and propose at their home. After enduring numerous tests and challenges from her family for six months, I finally won her hand. Two kids in three years—that was my limit. Before this, I’d even been proud of my impeccable aim. But now, I had to wonder, *Are these kids even mine?*
The neighbor’s rooster crowed several times downstairs before I finally shook off the shock of the night. Scarlett seemed annoyed by my sluggishness this morning. She frowned and asked, “Liam, what are you thinking about? I’ve called you a few times already. The baby needs to eat; why aren’t you making his formula?” When I still didn’t get up, she shot me a disdainful look, her eyes practically overflowing with contempt: “Honestly, you’re good for nothing but making money.” The old me wouldn’t have even noticed the sarcasm hidden in her words. I would have naively thought she was complimenting my earning ability. No wonder my friends always said I’d changed completely after meeting Scarlett, that I’d become a complete idiot when it came to love. I never denied it, nor did I feel embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, I thought it was just the basic skill a man needed to have for the woman he loved. Turns out, it was all just wishful thinking on my part. Looking at the woman before me, both familiar and strange, I got up and expertly prepared the formula, then gently slipped the nipple into our second baby’s mouth. What exactly did she mean by “useless”? She said she wanted to maintain her figure and refused to breastfeed, and I supported that. She said she needed to recover quickly and couldn’t carry the baby, and I supported that too. Aside from the month she spent at the postpartum care center, whenever I was home, I handled everything for both kids, from feeding to changing diapers. You could even say I was a full-time stay-at-home dad. But now, the thought that these two children might not be mine weighed on me more heavily than the entire world. “I want those croissants from the bakery on Elm Street. Go get them.” Scarlett smiled sweetly, playing with her phone as she gave me orders. I agreed. Secretly, I collected hair samples from both kids. Then, pretending I had an errand, I found my childhood best friend, Leo, who lived not far from me. “Leo, I need a favor,” I said, getting straight to the point. Leo’s sleepy eyes widened instantly when he saw me. “Damn it, you’re actually out! I was wondering if you’d ever leave the house! Seriously, you’ve become unrecognizable, all because of a woman.” His rambling made me smile bitterly. “I think I’m being cuckolded,” I said, my voice hollow. Leo froze for a second, then burst into applause. “Congrats, congrats! You’re finally getting out of this mess!” “All of us guys told you, that woman was no good, but you were like under a spell, completely impervious to reason!” Back when Scarlett and I first met, none of my friends approved. Before we became official, I took Scarlett to meet my friends. Normally, she was impeccably dressed, but that day, she just threw on a wrinkled dress and flip-flops to meet my friends. That outfit, which clearly showed she didn’t care about making a good impression, was one thing. But she also lacked even basic politeness towards them. Back then, I was such a fool, thinking she was just nervous to meet my friends! Later, after Scarlett and I officially got together, she stopped me from hanging out with them. Whenever I said I wanted to meet friends, she’d pick a fight. At first, I resisted a little, but under her constant nagging, the frequency of my meet-ups with friends dwindled from two or three times a month to once every two or three months. Then, it became once every six months, or even a year. Even our wedding invitations didn’t reach them because of her interference; I had to deliver them in person, one by one. Thinking about all those past incidents, my heart grew even more bitter. “Here!” Leo must have seen my gloom; he offered me a cigarette. But I shook my head. “Can’t. Bad for the kids. I quit.” “Idiot,” Leo said, no longer trying to persuade me. He just puffed away at his own cigarette. I pulled out the small bag containing my and the kids’ hair. “Help me out. This is my hair and the two kids’ hair. Can you get them tested for me? And when the results come in, I need you to tell me immediately.” Leo held the “hot potato,” his voice trembling. He stammered, “No way, man, I thought you were joking. You’re serious about this?” “What happened to make things this big? Are both kids not yours?” At that, Leo seemed to remember something. He paused, then took a deep drag. “Could it be I wasn’t mistaken that day? Was that really Scarlett in that car?” “The Cullinan?” I blurted out. He instinctively nodded, then looked at me with sympathy, saying earnestly, “My condolences, buddy. Don’t worry, I’ll get it done for you. One day, I can get you the results in one day.”
After leaving Leo’s place, I returned home feeling hollow. Naturally, I hadn’t bought the croissants Scarlett wanted. For that, she threw a massive tantrum, then stormed into the bedroom, got dressed up, and clacked out the door on high heels, hips swaying. My in-laws once again played the peacemakers, urging me to be more understanding and forgiving. They also said, “That’s just Scarlett’s temper; they’ve always indulged her, and I just needed to put up with it.” I’d heard that countless times, almost brainwashing myself. I didn’t reply. I handed the two kids to them and retreated to my study. I pulled a few strings and looked up the owners of Rolls-Royce Cullinans in our area. And there it was, a name that wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to me: Tyler. Scarlett’s distant cousin. Tyler had struck it rich last year, and ever since, he’d shown up every now and then, always arriving smug and leaving even smugger. My in-laws also treated him with extra care. *Had I let the fox into the hen house?* Most importantly, I knew that Tyler and Scarlett weren’t actually blood-related; he was adopted. The thought that that lowlife might be the bastard cuckolding me sent a furious rage boiling inside me. My hand clenched around the mouse, almost crushing it before I slammed it down. The shattered mouse was a perfect symbol of our broken relationship. Kindness is often mistaken for weakness. Then I remembered Scarlett’s recent constant nagging: “Let’s find a way to get a sham divorce. You transfer the house to my name, and then in half a year, we can remarry, and you can put your name back on it.” “That way I can feel more secure. After all, I’ve given you two children; even if it’s not credit, it’s hard work. I should have something in my name to feel at ease.” “You act like you love me so much every day, but you won’t even give me a bit of your pre-marital property?” These words echoed in my mind, a barrage of endless mockery, slamming into me, one after another. This wasn’t her being娇羞; this was pure calculation. She was meticulously plotting to seize everything I’d worked for. Not to mention the smug look she had when she left, wasn’t that just trampling all over my dignity? I hid in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I finally couldn’t hold it in and turned on the faucet, then burst into tears. My gaze shifted, and I saw a pregnancy test stick showing two lines vaguely visible in the trash can. I felt a wave of nausea, dry heaving. One truth after another confirmed, and I felt a profound sense of disgust. That night, Scarlett sent me a text, saying she was meeting her friends, then directly turned off her phone. And I stayed in my study all night. The computer screen never went dark, and my keyboard never stopped clacking. If she didn’t cherish my love, then she would lose everything…
Just as I was drifting into a light sleep, I felt a pair of plump little hands gently patting my face, a soft voice murmuring: “Daddy! Wake up!” Opening my eyes, I looked at the little face that bore no resemblance to mine, and for the first time, I felt utterly powerless. “Did you eat?” The small face nodded eagerly, saying excitedly: “Uncle Tyler! He brought me McDonald’s!” I froze, instinctively clenching my fist. Tyler again. My eldest son, who still couldn’t speak clearly, adored Tyler. Whenever Tyler was at the house, he would cling to him. Before, I didn’t understand. Now, I just found it laughable. *Damn that twisted bloodline!* “Mom! Take the child! I have to work!” In a flash, I handed the crying child back to my mother-in-law. She frowned, looking reluctant, and shot me a disdainful look, muttering something under her breath as she carried the child back into the room. I suppressed my raging anger. I had no intention of tipping them off just yet. Leo’s email arrived right on time, like a lifeline. I took a deep breath, composed myself, and calmly clicked it open. The freshly printed paternity test report was a brutal punch to the gut. My phone rang. When I answered, Leo’s loud, exclamatory voice dragged my rationality back: “Damn it, Scarlett’s a total bitch! I—I really didn’t expect her to be so shameless! Neither of those kids are yours?!” “Liam, what are you going to do? I’m absolutely with you!” My friend’s support brought a flicker of warmth to my heart, which felt like an ice cave. I had already braced myself mentally, so now, it wasn’t as devastating.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296782”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply