Pregnant, Divorced, and Married to the Don

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

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

Finally… it worked.

Ethan Smith and I had been married for three years, haunted by the loss of a miscarriage. Now, thanks to IVF, we were expecting again.

I couldn’t wait to get home and tell him. I imagined his face—the joy, the relief, the pride.

But as I approached our front door, I realized it was slightly ajar. Voices spilled out—Ethan’s and his mother’s.

“God willing, I hope Olivia’s pregnancy is successful this time,” Rhea Brown murmured. “For the sake of our family’s heir.”

I smiled, placing a hand over my belly. I was just about to push the door open when Rhea’s tone shifted, sharp and uneasy. “Ethan, what if Olivia finds out the baby she’s carrying isn’t hers? Do you think she’d get rid of it in a rage?”

My heart plunged.

I froze mid-step.

What did she just say?

Was she saying… the baby inside me wasn’t mine?

“Relax, Mom. She’ll never know we switched the eggs.”

Ethan’s calm, detached voice cut straight through me. “Once she gives birth to my child with Sophia, I’ll have every reason to divorce her.”

Ethan’s voice was calm, almost detached, yet it carried a chilling finality that seeped into my bones.

The world tilted around me.

Sophia Johnson—his ex. Forced apart by family pressure years ago. I thought he had moved on. I thought I mattered.

But the truth was brutal:

The child I’d celebrated wasn’t mine.

“Good.” Rhea’s voice dripped disdain. “If it wasn’t for your father insisting on her, I’d never have approved of a woman with no background joining our family. Sophia is better in every way—beautiful, well-bred. We’ve known her since she was a child.”

Ethan scoffed. “If Olivia hadn’t manipulated my father, Sophia would never have been forced to lose that first baby. This time, I’m fixing everything. I’m bringing Sophia back.”

Each word stabbed deeper than the last.

After our wedding, Ethan had seemed loving—gentle, perfect. But now I saw it clearly. He had never wanted me.

“You’ve been married three years with nothing to show for it,” Rhea sighed. “Who knows if this IVF will even work?”

“Mom, it’s my fault Olivia couldn’t get pregnant.”

Ethan’s voice lowered, but the coldness in it still struck me like a blow.

“I swapped her vitamins with birth control pills.”

Rhea gasped. “What?”

“That woman doesn’t deserve to bear my child,” Ethan said flatly. “The mother of my children can only be Sophia.”

My chest clenched. My thoughts scattered. I could barely breathe.

No wonder he’d been so patient each time I blamed myself for our infertility.

No wonder he’d never pressured me.

He’d never wanted a child with me at all！

Every act of tenderness had been staged. Every gentle word had been part of a carefully constructed lie.

He convinced me to do IVF only to replace my eggs with Sophia’s.

I was nothing but a vessel.

A tool.

Disposable.

I don’t even remember walking away. One moment I was at the door; the next, I was standing outside the hospital.

Clutching the report, I stormed into Dr. Aiden Evans’s office.

“Dr. Evans!”

I shoved his chair back, grabbing his collar. “Tell me—whose baby am I carrying?!”

Aiden paled. “Mrs. Smith, I—I don’t understand. The child is yours and Mr. Smith’s—”

“Is it?”

I pulled a handgun from my purse and pressed it to his forehead.

He stiffened. “Pulling a gun in a hospital is a felony! You’ll go to jail—think about what you’re doing!”

“Oh, I’ve thought it through.”

I pushed the barrel harder against his skin, my voice ice-cold. “My father was Special Forces. If I kill you, no one will ever find your body.”

I rarely mentioned my family. But this was about my child. Nothing else mattered.

The sharp click of the safety breaking was his breaking point. He collapsed to his knees.

“I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything! Mr. Smith paid me to switch your eggs with another woman’s, but the nurse panicked—she grabbed the wrong sample!”

My heart seized. “Explain. Clearly.”

Aiden swallowed hard. “Your egg wasn’t replaced. The nurse accidentally switched Mr. Smith’s sperm sample instead.”

I froze.

Relief and disbelief hit me in a dizzying wave.

So the child inside me was still mine. My biological child.

But then—who was the father?

“Then whose sperm was used?” I demanded, gun unwavering.

Aiden hesitated.

“You don’t want to talk?” My tone dropped to a lethal whisper. “Fine. I’ll shoot you. Then leak this entire scandal to the press. Your family will never show their faces in public again.”

The gun wasn’t even loaded. But he didn’t know that.

Aiden cracked instantly. “It’s Damien Costello!” he choked. “The Don of the Costello family!”

I stared at him, stunned. “Damien? That’s impossible. I’ve never even met him.”

“It’s true!”

Aiden scrambled through a file cabinet, shaking, before pulling out an IVF consent form.

On the line marked father—

Damien Costello.

My breath hitched.

His signature stared back at me, stark and undeniable.