Gorgeous Mommy

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

Katie Oettgen

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Romance Crime Revenge Pregnancy Enemies to Lovers Pregnancy Personal Growth

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People that are broken are terribly gorgeous.

"You placed a wager." Those four words shattered my heart. I was saying it out loud stung. I should have known better. I should've learned that the jock would never ask a lady like me out unless it was for his benefit.

"Yes." You'd think he'd be upset about it, but he wasn't.

He had a smug on his face. He could have cared less. I hadn't seen him with that look before. He was no longer the sweet, loving lover I had imagined him to be.

"How long will this last?" I asked.

"Five months," he said. "However, it was the longest five months of my life." Another hit to the chest. I felt as though I were in the film She's All That. It was odd because it was one of my favorite movies, and now I find myself in the same scenario.

"Why?" My voice cracked, humiliating me even more.

"You came up with an excellent challenge." He didn't care that he had torn my heart out and was now walking on the fragments. He was pleased with himself.

My body was malfunctioning. My eyes did not well up, at least not yet. I felt hollow. 'How could I have missed this?' was all I could think. 'Didn't you see that wasn't real?'

"I didn't expect it to take me five months to convince you to admit you love me, but getting in your trousers was worth it."

People stared at us. Of course, Mitch had to do it at the center of the school entrance, where everyone could see him. It was as though they summoned everyone to the front of the school. And those who weren't there would hear about it in less than 30 minutes. Whether you liked it or not, gossip spread quickly in high school.

"I didn't do-" I began to talk, but he cut me off. I never slept with him. We didn't do anything like that.

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