His Wife, His Best Friend's Baby

His Wife, His Best Friend's Baby

Gavin

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The cemetery air was heavy, just like my heart, staring at Lily' s name, a scar etched in stone. Then she arrived, Sophia, my wife, leaning into Mark, my best friend. Her hand resting on the slight curve of her stomach twisted my gut. "Lily, from heaven, will surely bless the baby in my womb with health and safety," she sneered, holding her belly. My daughter was dead, and their child, a blessing. I slid my wedding ring off, the symbol of a shattered lie, and let it fall onto the damp earth beside Lily' s grave. I walked away without looking back, leaving everything behind. Later, I overheard Sophia' s sisters mocking me. "What do you bet he comes crawling back in a week?" one giggled. They had no idea. Soon, I found myself serving Mark, Sophia' s lover, even peeling him an apple, a twisted parody of our past intimacy. Her smirk told me she relished my humiliation. Then she dropped the bomb: "We can all be one big, happy family." I handed her the divorce papers, already signed. Sophia laughed, picking up the papers. "You have nothing without me." Suddenly, Mark began to choke, his face turning red. "What did you do?" Sophia shrieked, her eyes blazing, forcing a piece of the apple into my mouth. A sickeningly sweet, nutty taste flooded my senses. Almonds. The room spun, and the first wave of anaphylaxis hit me like a fiery punch. "We found out about the baby almost a year ago, right after... Lily got sick." A year. Lily was still alive when their affair began. They left me there, choking, as they rushed Mark to the hospital. But in that cold, sterile hospital room, a ruthless plan began to form.

Introduction

The cemetery air was heavy, just like my heart, staring at Lily' s name, a scar etched in stone.

Then she arrived, Sophia, my wife, leaning into Mark, my best friend.

Her hand resting on the slight curve of her stomach twisted my gut.

"Lily, from heaven, will surely bless the baby in my womb with health and safety," she sneered, holding her belly.

My daughter was dead, and their child, a blessing.

I slid my wedding ring off, the symbol of a shattered lie, and let it fall onto the damp earth beside Lily' s grave.

I walked away without looking back, leaving everything behind.

Later, I overheard Sophia' s sisters mocking me.

"What do you bet he comes crawling back in a week?" one giggled.

They had no idea.

Soon, I found myself serving Mark, Sophia' s lover, even peeling him an apple, a twisted parody of our past intimacy.

Her smirk told me she relished my humiliation.

Then she dropped the bomb: "We can all be one big, happy family."

I handed her the divorce papers, already signed.

Sophia laughed, picking up the papers. "You have nothing without me."

Suddenly, Mark began to choke, his face turning red.

"What did you do?" Sophia shrieked, her eyes blazing, forcing a piece of the apple into my mouth.

A sickeningly sweet, nutty taste flooded my senses. Almonds.

The room spun, and the first wave of anaphylaxis hit me like a fiery punch.

"We found out about the baby almost a year ago, right after... Lily got sick."

A year. Lily was still alive when their affair began.

They left me there, choking, as they rushed Mark to the hospital.

But in that cold, sterile hospital room, a ruthless plan began to form.

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I was four months pregnant, a photographer excited for our future, attending a sophisticated baby brunch. Then I saw him, my husband Michael, with another woman, and a newborn introduced as "his son." My world shattered as a torrent of betrayal washed over me, magnified by Michael's dismissive claim I was "just being emotional." His mistress, Serena, taunted me, revealing Michael had discussed my pregnancy complications with her, then slapped me, causing a terrifying cramp. Michael sided with her, publicly shaming me, demanding I leave "their" party, as a society blog already paraded them as a "picture-perfect family." He fully expected me to return, to accept his double life, telling his friends I was "dramatic" but would "always come back." The audacity, the calculated cruelty of his deception, and Serena's chilling malice, fueled a cold, hard rage I barely recognized. How could I have been so blind, so trusting of the man who gaslighted me for months while building a second family? But on the plush carpet of that lawyer's office, as he turned his back on me, a new, unbreakable resolve solidified. They thought I was broken, disposable, easily manipulated – a "reasonable" wife who would accept a sham separation. They had no idea my calm acceptance was not surrender; it was strategy, a quiet promise to dismantle everything he held dear. I would not be handled; I would not understand; I would end this, and make sure their perfect family charade crumbled into dust.

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I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

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The Wine Press
4.6

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ "I want to get a divorce, Mark," I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time-even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

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