Billionaires regret Mommy please forgive Daddy

It was a few minutes past 8 pm on a serene Friday when Octavia Davis arrived at her marital home, having been discharged from the hospital merely an hour ago. She had taken a cab down to the mansion unaccompanied, without any support from anyone. It's not like she had anyone anyway.

Her billionaire husband, Carl Dawson, hadn't even visited her during her stay at the hospital following the miscarriage she had experienced a week before. Despite this absence, Octavia felt a flicker of hope and excitement as she stepped out of the cab and approached the imposing gate of Carl's mansion.

She grimaced at the pain that radiated from her abdomen, struggling to keep her breaths steady as she navigated her way inside after passing the security check.

Octavia was still physically weak. The emotional turmoil weighed heavily on her, to say the least, as this was the second time she had endured a miscarriage in her marriage. Though she couldn't comprehend why such fate had befallen her for a second time, she longed to seek solace in the comfort of her beloved husband, who felt so far away yet very close. Carl was her everything. He was her comforter, her confidant, her best friend, and, in fact, everything she needed him to be. He was the sweetest and most caring man in the world. He had always been there for her, well, except this one time, a fact which Octavia still tried to rationalize.

Despite the discomfort coursing through her, a faint smile crept onto her face as she made her way toward the place that housed the love of her life.

Although she had initially felt hurt by Carl's absence during her stay at the hospital, She couldn't find it in her to muster anger toward him. After all, it was her fault for losing their child again. She recalled the joy that had been etched on Carl's face when they learned she was pregnant two months ago. His excitement had been palpable as he eagerly anticipated their future together. He just couldn't stop yapping about how excited he was to meet their mini-selves. Well, Octavia guessed those dreams lay in ruins now. And it was all her fault.

When she had also learned of the miscarriage a week ago, she had been so heartbroken and sorrowful. She wept for hours, days, and the whole week with no one even there to comfort her. The pain was excruciating and all she longed for was for it to stop.

Though she had experienced a miscarriage before, Carl had never placed blame on her. Instead, he had always reassured her of his unwavering support and affection. Octavia thought she understood his recent silence about the whole situation; Carl must have been grieving the loss of their child, especially considering how desperately he had been seeking an heir.

*

But all of these assumptions dissipated the moment Octavia entered her home, only to find Carl sprawled on the couch, in the arms of an unknown woman, who was just cladded in black lingerie.

Octavia's heart thudded in disbelief, her heart plummeting to her feet as she grappled with the painful sight before her. Was that truly her husband, Carl?

She remained frozen by the door, still staring at the two of them in disbelief as they remained oblivious to her presence. She watched as her beloved husband, Carl leaned into the strange woman and claimed her lips in a passionate kiss right before her very eyes.

Octavia's eyes widening into saucers, she staggered back in bewilderment, her hand accidentally knocking a ceramic vase to the ground, which shattered loudly on the marbled floor, breaking the tranquility of the room. The noise reverberated throughout the house, startling Carl, who abruptly broke the kiss and turned to face her.

His eyes locked with hers.

Octavia had anticipated a glimmer of remorse or shock in his expression upon seeing her, but instead, Carl only rolled his eyes at her, a wave of frustration washing over his features as he huffed with irritation.

Octavia's heart raced as she struggled to process his dismissive reaction. What was happening? Why was he being this way? Like her night couldn't get any more heartbreaking, she wasn't prepared for her beloved husband's next reaction.

Exhaling heavily, Carl's baritone voice resonated through the room to Octavia's ears as he spoke with irritation. "Oh, here she comes again. The murderer of babies!" He added cruelly, his emerald orbs directed at Octavia in a cold, calculating gaze.

Octavia's heart sank to her feet as she heard him. Her gaze faltered and she gasped lightly, unable to fathom the cruelty in his words.

"W- What?" She stammered, confusion flooding her mind. Her heart broke further as she witnessed her husband turn his attention to the other woman, and claimed her lips again for another deep kiss, completely disregarding her presence.

Tears streamed down Octavia's face, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to comprehend Carl's sudden hostility. Why was he treating her this way? Was it because of the miscarriage? Wasn't he the same person who had reassured her that everything was going to be alright? What had changed? Who was this strange woman even?

Desperate to reach him, Octavia sniffled, wiping away her tears as she summoned the courage to walk up to him, hoping he would recognize her and apologize. Maybe he had mistaken her for someone else earlier. He couldn't possibly have said those words to her.

'Who had he said them to then?' A small voice berated Octavia but she quickly dismissed the possibility.

She knew Carl loved her just as she loved him. It was impossible.

She called out softly as she made her way towards Carl, who remained on the couch with his mistress, Kristine Stewart.

"Carl. Carl, what are you doing, honey? It's me, alright? It's Octavia? Baby, it's me, your wife." She finally halted before him, adding in a cracked voice, despite her attempts to conceal the hurt in her tone. "Hey, baby,"

Octavia battled with tears that welled in her eyes as she stared down at Carl, also ignoring the bold mistress who had the audacity to remain there by his side, regardless of her presence.

Her heart shattered even more as Carl shot her a look of disdain and irritation, lifting himself to face her. "Who's your honey? I can never be the honey of a murderer like you!" he bellowed, his contempt evident.

It was then it finally dawned on Octavia; he hadn't mistaken her for someone else before. Those words were exactly meant for her.

Octavia staggered back in shock, tears flowing freely from her eyes as she muttered in disbelief. "W-what?"

Carl scoffed derisively before rising from the couch, his 6'5 frame towering over Octavia.

She shuddered beneath him as he glared daggers at her. He then hissed bitterly before turning away, leaving her alone with his mistress, who regarded Octavia with disgust and a smug smirk.