He Made Me Have a Baby for His Mistress. I Made Him Lose Everything

For all three years of our marriage, Ethan Prescott had answered every request with the same two words. "Just wait." When I asked if we could have a real wedding instead of the hurried courthouse ceremony, he told me to wait until Prescott Holdings went public. When I said I wanted a baby, he told me to wait until we traded our condo for a proper family home. Then, on the night of our third anniversary, I found a post online. The title read, "What is it like to have a man worship the ground you walk on?" The woman who posted it had answered her own question. "I told him I hated children, so he made sure his wife couldn't get pregnant." "A few days ago, I decided babies might be fun after all. He immediately told her they could start trying." "Then I mentioned the Northern Lights, and he booked us a flight to Iceland that same night. He would never make me wait for anything." In the last photo, a boarding pass lay beside a champagne flute. Most of the passenger's name was hidden beneath a manicured hand, but not all of it. Ethan Pres... My phone chimed. Ethan: "Honey, this trip may take a while. When I get home, we can finally start trying for a baby." Across from me, the candle flames shivered above a dinner that had gone cold. For the first time in three years, I stopped waiting. I opened Ethan's message and typed a single word. "Okay." His video call came almost at once. He appeared in a custom black suit with his tie loosened and exhaustion carefully arranged across his face. "A cross-border acquisition blew up at the last minute," he said. "I'll be in New York for two weeks." There was nothing behind him but a white wall. A small snowflake pin glittered on his lapel. I knew every detail of my husband. Ethan considered decorative pins tacky. He had never worn one in his life. "Long day?" I asked. "Brutal." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But knowing we'll start a family when I get back makes it worth it. No more delays. I promise." Yesterday, that promise would have brought tears to my eyes. "Where are you staying?" "The Hilton in Midtown." I looked past him at the window reflected in a framed print. Pale sunlight still filled the sky. "It's almost midnight in New York. Why is it daylight outside your window?" He went still. His gaze flicked toward someone beyond the camera. "I'm near the airport. It's one of those sleep lounges with artificial daylight." "Ethan, your bath is ready." A woman's voice drifted through the speaker. Color left his face. His hand covered the microphone. "Honey, the connection is breaking up. I'll call you later." The screen went black. I knew the voice. It belonged to Lila Hayes, the younger half-sister of Ethan's oldest friend. Years ago, she had received a scholarship through the Prescott Foundation. Ethan had taken a personal interest in her future ever since. Five minutes later, an unknown number sent me a photograph. Lila stood before a floor-to-ceiling window wearing Ethan's white dress shirt. Beyond the glass, green light rippled across the Icelandic sky. "Ethan says the Northern Lights should be shared with the person you love most," the message read. "You can stay home and wait until he decides you're allowed to have his baby." I saved the photograph, then took screenshots of the post and every reply beneath it. When I was done, I carried the roast chicken, glazed carrots, potatoes, salad, and anniversary cake to the trash. I had spent six hours making dinner. It took less than a minute to throw it away. The doorbell rang before I finished cleaning the table. Evan Brooks, Ethan's executive assistant, stood in the hall with a gift box in both hands. "Mrs. Prescott, Ethan asked me to bring you this. He also said you should rest and take your vitamins so you'll be ready when he gets home." A diamond necklace rested inside the box. Beneath the velvet insert, I found a receipt from an Icelandic duty-free boutique, timestamped less than four hours earlier. Evan saw it and went pale. "There must have been a mix-up. Let me take that back." I closed the lid before he could reach for it. "Please thank Ethan. Tell him I love it." Once Evan was gone, I opened the bottom drawer of my vanity and removed the bottle marked PRENATAL SUPPORT. Ethan had ordered it for me three months ago. The tablets inside no longer matched the ones from the first bottle. I photographed one and sent the image to a friend who worked in clinical pharmacy at Harborview Medical Center. She called half an hour later. "Natalie, where did you get these? They're high-dose hormonal contraceptives. If you've been taking them without medical supervision, stop now. Long-term misuse can cause serious complications." My fingers tightened around the phone. The baby plan had never been ours. It had been Lila's private game. When she said children were annoying, Ethan made sure I could not conceive. When she decided babies might amuse her, he gave me permission to try. To him, my body was another asset he controlled. I ended the call and dialed a number I had not used in three years. "Rachel, it's Natalie Bennett. I need you to file for divorce." My attorney was silent for a moment. "You finally made the decision?" "Yes. Inventory every asset that belongs solely to me and begin liquidating what you can. I want a clean exit, and I want it fast." I sealed one of the pills in a plastic evidence bag and locked the bottle in our safe. Ethan had always loved telling me to wait. Now it was his turn.

Harborview called at four the next morning. "Ms. Bennett, your grandmother was admitted with acute heart failure. She's in the ICU. You need to come immediately." I drove to the hospital in pajama pants and a winter coat. By the time I arrived, Grandma had been stabilized, but only barely. Her attending physician met me outside the cardiac unit with a consent form and a grim expression. "She needs emergency bypass surgery. Her anatomy is unusually complex, and her previous graft is failing. Dr. Grant Coleman performed her last procedure, so he knows this heart better than anyone. If we could get him here, or even get him on a secure video consult, her odds would improve dramatically." Grant was one of the country's most respected cardiothoracic surgeons. He was also Ethan's private physician and a paid medical adviser to Prescott Holdings. Three years earlier, Ethan had arranged for him to operate on Grandma personally. I called my husband. "It's four in the morning, Natalie. What happened now?" "Grandma is in heart failure. She needs surgery, and Harborview needs Grant. Can you reach him?" "Grant isn't in the country." "Where is he?" Ethan exhaled impatiently. "Your grandmother is in her eighties. Surgery may not save her. You need to accept that people get old." Cold spread through my body. "She is fighting for her life, and you're giving me a lecture about acceptance. Put Grant on the phone." "Ethan, my head is killing me..." Lila's voice floated through the line. A second later, I heard Grant in the background. "Ms. Hayes is overstimulated and sleep-deprived," he said. "A mild sedative should be enough." Grant was in Iceland. Ethan had taken one of America's best heart surgeons across the Atlantic because Lila could not sleep. "Ethan, let Grant speak to Harborview. Five minutes on a video call could help save Grandma." "Lila has a history of depression and panic attacks. I'm not leaving her alone while she's unstable. Harborview has other surgeons. Use one of them." "Grant doesn't have to leave her. He only has to answer a call." "Enough. If you keep turning every inconvenience into a crisis, we can forget about having a baby when I get home. Take some time and think about the way you're behaving." He hung up. My next call went straight to voicemail. The one after that did too. For Lila's sleepless night, Ethan had mobilized a private jet and a famous physician. For my grandmother's failing heart, he could not spare five minutes. I let myself cry for exactly one minute. Then I opened a password-protected contact list and placed a call to London. "Charlie, it's Natalie." "Natalie Bennett? I was beginning to think I'd never hear your voice again." "I need Bellamy's cardiac response team. Get your Seattle surgeons to Harborview now, and put your London specialists on a secure consult." His tone changed immediately. "I'll make it happen. Is this an emergency favor, or are you finally coming back to medicine?" I looked through the ICU window at the woman who had raised me. "I'm coming back." Before my marriage, I had been one of the youngest cardiac surgeons ever invited to operate at three major teaching hospitals. Then Ethan told me he hated watching me destroy myself with eighty-hour weeks. He said he needed a partner who would build a life with him, not disappear into an operating room. I loved him enough to believe that giving up my career was a choice we had made together. It had only ever been my sacrifice. When I ended the call, I phoned my real estate agent. "List the Waterford penthouse today. Price it to move, and accept serious cash offers only." That penthouse was the family home Ethan claimed we needed before we could have a child. I no longer wanted either one.

Grandma's surgery lasted nine hours. Bellamy's Seattle team took over the operating room while specialists in London and Boston consulted remotely. When the attending surgeon finally told me she was stable, my knees nearly gave out. By noon, I had accepted Charlie's standing offer to join Bellamy Medical Group as a special adviser to its cardiac technology division. The position covered Grandma's treatment, but I would have taken it even if it paid nothing. Walking back into medicine felt like drawing my first full breath in years. That night, Bellamy hosted a fundraising gala at the Fairmont. I almost stayed at the hospital, but Grandma woke long enough to order me home, showered, and back among the living. So I entered the ballroom in a black silk gown with her heirloom emerald at my throat. I had barely accepted a glass of champagne when the doors opened and conversation dipped. Ethan walked in wearing an immaculate tuxedo. Lila, dressed in white, held his arm as if she were the wife. He was supposed to be in New York for two weeks. Apparently his urgent acquisition had included Iceland, another woman, and a return flight timed perfectly for Bellamy's gala. The year before, in this same ballroom, Ethan had barely let me out of his sight. Tonight, he crossed half the room without noticing me. I turned toward the terrace. "Natalie?" Lila's sweet voice stopped me before I reached the doors. When I looked back, Ethan was frowning. "What are you doing here?" he asked. His gaze swept over my dress. "And why are you dressed like that?" Ethan had always called his jealousy concern. He preferred me in high necklines, neutral colors, and clothes no other man would remember. "Neither question is any of your business." His jaw tightened. "Are you still angry about this morning? Evan checked on your grandmother. The surgery is over, and she's alive. Did you really come here looking like this just to punish me?" The confidence in his face made my stomach turn. "Not everything I do is about you, Ethan." Lila touched his sleeve. "Don't be upset with her. This is probably my fault." Her eyes dropped to the emerald necklace, and false sympathy sharpened into naked want. "That's beautiful, Natalie. Is it vintage?" Ethan followed her gaze. "Where did you get the money for that? Did you charge it to my account?" I almost laughed. "It belonged to my grandmother. It's been in my family for generations." Lila tilted her head. "I have a charity auction next week. I've been looking everywhere for something with that kind of history." Ethan understood her perfectly. "Let Lila borrow it for the auction." For a moment, I thought I had misheard him. "Absolutely not." "Why does everything have to become a fight?" His voice rose enough to turn nearby heads. "Lila is dealing with serious mental health issues. Her doctors have told us to avoid unnecessary stress. It's a necklace, Natalie. I'll buy you another one." "You cannot replace this one." "Your grandmother is still alive. Stop acting as if it's some sacred relic." The ballroom went silent around us. I slapped him. His head snapped to the side. A red mark spread across his cheek as he stared at me in stunned disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you?" "Ethan!" Lila rushed forward and touched his face. Then she turned on me. "If you don't want to lend it to me, fine. You didn't have to hit him." Her hand shot toward my throat. I caught her wrist and shoved her away. Lila stumbled backward, then made no attempt to catch herself. She landed beside a table and scraped one palm against the floor. "Oh God. It hurts." Tears appeared instantly. Ethan drove both hands into my shoulders. I hit the corner of the banquet table hard enough to send a white flash through my vision. Pain ripped across my lower abdomen. "Security," he shouted. "Get her out." Two guards approached, but neither seemed eager to put hands on me. Ethan stepped close enough that only I could hear the first part of his threat. "Your little private practice depends on referrals from hospitals where Prescott Holdings controls the leases, equipment contracts, or donor boards. By tomorrow morning, every one of those doors will be closed." Then he raised his voice for the room. "When you're ready to apologize, you can come home. Until then, find out what life is like without my name protecting you." I looked at the man I had loved and began to laugh. Tears burned my eyes, but I did not wipe them away. "You won't have to close anything. I'm done with the practice, and I'm done with you." I handed my champagne to a passing server, straightened my spine, and walked out despite the pain twisting through my abdomen. Behind me, Lila gave a breathless little laugh. Ethan did not follow. The cold outside hit me like a wall. I made it to the curb before the pain forced me to crouch, one arm wrapped around my stomach. A black sedan stopped in front of me. The rear door opened, and Charles Bellamy climbed out. "Natalie, what happened?" I tried to tell him I was fine. Then warmth ran down the inside of my thigh. When I looked down, blood had soaked through the hem of my gown and pooled inside one shoe.