Chasing My Ex Contract Wife

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Huo Wuer

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

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Arabella's POV

Effortlessly, the liquid leaves my bladder. With closed eyes, my heart hammers wildly within my ribcage anxiously.

For no reason, I don't want to do this anymore. For a moment, I begin to think of the very step to take as soon as this is confirmed.

Should I still go ahead with it?

Ignorance, they say, is bliss. What if he doesn't want a child now?

Realizing I have been staring at my urine for more than a minute, I summon up enough courage as I grab the container and dip the absorbent tip of the PT test strip before counting from 1 to 10 and then recapping it.

With trembling hands, I place the strip on the flat counter while fidgeting with my hands and watching the timer on my phone.

In five minutes, I would know my fate.

In five minutes, I would have to choose.

In five minutes, I would have to know whether to see him tonight or not.

In five minutes, my world would either change or remain the same.

I shut my eyes, clamp my hands together and stamp my feet impatiently on the floor. When I flicker my eyes back open, traces of the doubtful expression of a woman I can barely recognise in just a few minutes stares back at me from the mirror.

I can barely recognize myself.

What then will happen if I am indeed pregnant?

I try to smile but it falters.

I try to stay calm but the trembling won't stop.

I try to look upset too, perhaps it might help with how I feel but I don't look angry.

My expression is filled with nothing but anxiety, hope, doubts and optimism.

Something dings and it occurs to me that it is the timer. Five minutes is up.

It is time to see the results of what we did a month ago.

Even though my curiosity led me to this, I can't brace myself up to look down at the strip right in front of me. My eyes are looking directly into the mirror.

Suddenly, my eyes water.

A lump is stuck in my throat. My chest is heavy too.

Balling my hand into a fist and letting out a long sigh, I drop my head down to stare at the two red lines staring right back at me.

My heart stops for a minute.

My breathing hitched too.

When it finally dawns on me that this is what I want, I clasp my hand over my mouth, stepping back with laughter erupting from my throat.

Finally!

I'm pregnant.

I'm having a baby.

When my back hits the wall, it sinks in, making my laughter stop halfway.

My initial fear was to know if he would want this too. This is not just about me. It is about us. Our child.

I should tell him. Then I would know if he wants a baby as much as I do.