Pregnant, Divorced, and Married to the Don

"Olivia Spencer, congratulations. The IVF was a success. Go home and get plenty of rest."

My hands trembled as I stared at the positive pregnancy test report.

Finally. It finally worked.

My husband, Ethan Smith, and I had been married for three years, a journey marked by the heartbreak of one miscarriage. Now, with the help of IVF, we were finally having our child again.

I couldn't wait to get home and share the news with Ethan, to see the surprise light up his face.

As I approached our front door, I noticed the villa's door was slightly ajar. The voices of Ethan and his mother drifted out.

"God willing, I hope Olivia's pregnancy is successful this time. For the sake of our family's heir."

Peeking through the crack, I saw Rhea Brown in fervent prayer. It seemed she really was invested in this pregnancy.

A smile touched my lips as I instinctively placed a hand on my still-flat stomach, ready to push the door open and give them the surprise of a lifetime.

Then, Rhea's voice came again, laced with something I couldn't quite place. "Ethan, what if Olivia finds out the baby isn't hers after she's pregnant? Do you think she'd get rid of it in a fit of rage?"

My heart plummeted. The hand I'd raised to push the door froze mid-air.

What did that mean?

What did she mean that the baby in my belly wasn't mine?

"Don't worry, Mom. She'll never know we swapped the eggs."

Ethan's voice was the same deep baritone I knew, but now it carried a chilling indifference that seeped into my bones. "Once she delivers my and Sophia's child, I'll find an excuse to divorce her."

I stood rooted to the spot, the world spinning around me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Sophia Johnson, Ethan's ex-girlfriend. They had been forced to break up years ago because of intense family opposition.

I had always assumed they'd cut ties completely. I never imagined he was still carrying a torch for her.

And the most horrifying part? The child I had celebrated, the one I had fought tooth and nail for was his and another woman's.

"Good." Rhea's tone was dripping with disdain. "If it wasn't for your father insisting on her, I would never have approved of a woman with no background becoming our daughter-in-law. Sophia is so much better, beautiful, from a good family, we've known her since she was a little girl."

"If she hadn't manipulated my father into liking her, Sophia never would have been forced to lose that first baby," Ethan added, his voice cold as ice. "This time, consider it her paying Sophia back."

The words pierced my heart like a thousand needles, stealing the air from my lungs.

Memories flashed through my mind. After we got married, Ethan had been so good to me, so attentive. In everyone's eyes, he was the perfect husband.

But I never, ever thought that he didn't want to marry me at all.

"You've been married for three years with nothing to show for it. I just don't know if this IVF will even take," Rhea lamented, her voice full of theatrical regret.

"Mom, it was me. I'm the reason she couldn't get pregnant."

Ethan lowered his voice, but every word hammered against my eardrums like a sledgehammer.

"I swapped her vitamin supplements with birth control pills."

"What?" Rhea gasped.

"That woman doesn't deserve to bear my child," Ethan stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The mother of my children can only be Sophia."

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. My mind went blank. My entire world was collapsing.

No wonder he always acted so gentle and understanding whenever I blamed myself for our infertility.

It was all a lie. He didn't care because he never wanted me to have his child in the first place.

Looking back now, all his affection, all his tenderness, was just an elaborately staged performance.

He went to such lengths to convince me to do IVF, only so he could switch my eggs with Sophia's.

I was nothing more than a carefully selected tool. A vessel chosen to carry someone else's baby.

A disposable container to be thrown away once I'd served my purpose.

I didn't know how I managed to walk away from there.

When I came to my senses, I was standing in front of the hospital.

Remembering the report in my purse, I stormed straight into the office of the doctor who had performed my procedure—Aiden Evans.

"Dr. Evans!"

I threw the door open, yanking a startled Aiden from his chair. "You tell me! Whose baby am I carrying?!"

Aiden's face went pale, his eyes darting away. "Mrs. Smith, I... I don't understand what you mean. The child is, of course, yours and Mr. Smith's."

"Is it?" I cut through the bullshit, pulling a handgun from my purse and pressing the cold, dark muzzle firmly against his forehead.

"I'm going to ask you one last time," I snarled. "Whose. Child. Is. It?"

Aiden was terrified but tried to feign composure. "Pulling a gun on someone in a hospital is a felony! You'll go to jail! You'd better think this through!"

"Oh, I've thought it through."

I jammed the barrel harder against his skin, my gaze like ice. "You probably don't know this, but my father was Special Forces. If I kill you here today, the police might not even find your body."

I rarely brought up my family. That part of my past was something I preferred not to revisit.

But this was about my child. I was past caring about anything else.

The crisp click of the safety being disengaged was the final straw. The threat of death finally made his legs give out, and he crumpled to the floor.

He knelt there, babbling incoherently. "I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! It was Mr. Smith, he gave me a huge sum of money to switch your eggs with another woman's! But the nurse was too nervous, and when she was handling the samples, she grabbed the wrong one!"

My heart skipped a beat, but the hand holding the gun didn't waver. "Explain. Clearly."

Aiden swallowed hard, trembling. "What I mean is the nurse didn't switch your egg! She accidentally switched Mr. Smith's sperm sample!"

I froze.

A wave of delirious joy and immense absurdity washed over me.

In the span of a single day, I had been through shock, grief, and rage.

And now, hearing this, I felt a sliver of relief.

It seemed this child was mine after all. My own biological child.

But after the relief came a new, pressing question.

"Then who's the father?" I kept the gun aimed at him.

Aiden hesitated again.

"You don't want to say? Fine. I'll just shoot you, then leak this whole sample-swapping scandal to the press. Your family will be so ashamed they won't be able to show their faces in public for the rest of their lives."

It was a bluff, of course.

The gun was a realistic replica, completely unloaded, but it was more than enough to terrify a doctor who'd never seen a day of real trouble.

As expected, Aiden flinched. After a long, agonizing struggle, he finally gave up. "It's Damien Costello," he cried. "The Don of the Costello family."

I was utterly stunned. "Damien? How is that even possible?"

I'd never even crossed paths with Damien Costello. How could I possibly be carrying his child?

"It's true."

Shaking, Aiden fumbled through a filing cabinet and pulled out an IVF consent form. There, on the line for the father's signature, was the unmistakable name: Damien Costello.