Chose Your Mistress Over Pregnant Me?Wait Till I Hand You Both to Prison! - Chapter 1: 第一章

Chapter1
I knew Erick was planning to ditch me when legal kept shoving papers in my face.
Corporate transfers. New bank accounts.
He was also fire-selling our properties for pennies on the dollar.
Our books? Suddenly our goldmine company was hemorrhaging cash.
Plus, Erick was constantly "traveling"—weeks at a time.
His excuse? "Company's in trouble. I'm trying to turn things around."
I never called him on his bullshit.
Didn't mention that the video of him and his precious little girlfriend making out at the Taylor Swift concert had gone viral on TMZ's trending page.
Why did I put up with it?
Simple—I was head-over-heels stupid for this man.
Five years of dating, five years of marriage.
You don't just flip a switch and stop caring because your husband's stepping out.
So when he rolled home covered in love bites, I played dumb.
When he reeked of some young girl's cheap perfume, I bit my tongue.
When he moved into the study and wouldn't even touch me anymore, I pretended it was fine.
I didn't want a divorce. But Erick sure as hell did.
Lucky for me, the lawyer drafting his divorce worked at a firm I'd quietly invested in.
So I knew exactly how torn up he was about the whole thing.
How he was wrestling with the decision.
I even knew when he planned to serve me.
To save my marriage, I went and got IVF.
The night before D-Day, I called and made him come home.
He was pissed about it.
I'd cooked his favorite meal. The housekeeper had to reheat it three times before he finally showed up.
He didn't even glance at the food.
Just gave me this cold little nod and disappeared into his study.
After dragging his feet for two hours—shower, whatever—he finally emerged.
"You said you needed to talk. So talk."
His tone was ice-cold, like I was some employee he couldn't wait to fire.
I didn't say a word. Just handed him the ultrasound printout.
"I'm pregnant. Two weeks."
His breathing stopped. That paper nearly disintegrated in his death grip.
I knew why he was freaking out.
Mom had died giving birth to my brother.
I'd sworn off the whole domestic martyr thing.
From our first date, I'd been crystal clear: Dick, forever.
Love-drunk Erick had signed off on it instantly.
But after we got married, as we got older, he kept dropping hints about babies.
Every time, I shut him down. Even tore into him for breaking his promise.
And now here I was, pregnancy test in hand.
He took several shaky breaths, trying to pull himself together.
"Thanks for... you know. Changing your mind about this."
He clutched the ultrasound and lurched up, knee cracking against the table.
"Sorry, I just—this is a lot. I need a minute to process."
He fled back to his study and slammed the door.
When the echo faded, I realized I'd been white-knuckling my fruit knife.
Blood pooled in my water glass where I'd punctured my palm.
Chapter2
That night, I just caught the smell of smoke in my room.
But I knew Erick had been chain-smoking until dawn.
Our rooms were far apart, but that stench was so thick, he must've burned through multiple packs.
Next morning, HR told me Erick's new "secretary" had quit.
The business deals he'd been dumping? Suddenly back on track.
When I got the news, I touched my still-flat belly and sobbed into my pillow.
Somehow I'd kept our love story from ending in pure spite.
Erick slipped back into husband mode after that.
Every appointment, every scan—he was there.
Obsessed over finding the perfect maternity center.
Bought enough baby gear to last until the kid turned ten.
Perfect expectant father on paper.
But he still slept in his study. Still wouldn't touch me.
Hell, I caught him getting off to her photos.
Joke's on me, right?
Like right now—this girl had the nerve to show up at our place.
Dropped her wedding invite, spouted her dramatic bullshit, then ran.
And Erick's first instinct? Not to reassure his pregnant wife.
Erick bolted upright, already halfway to the door
When I called him back, he completely lost it:
"Jesus, Julia! I gave up everything—came crawling back! What more do you want from me?"
"She's getting married tomorrow! Can't I at least say goodbye?"
The revulsion in his eyes said everything.
I swiped at my cheeks.
"No. You can't. Walk out on me now, and I swear to God I'm ending this pregnancy."
He froze.
Stared me down for an eternity. Then:
"You're seriously fucked up, you know that?"
Each word was a knife twist.
Fucked up? Me?
I'd played blind to protect our marriage.
I'd swallowed my pride, ignored his cheating, let doctors turn my body into a pincushion—all for him.
I'd fought so damn hard to keep us together.
And I'm the villain here?
My face was a waterfall, but even that plus his precious baby couldn't touch whatever hold she had on him.
He kicked the couch with impatiency.
"Fine! Go aheah! Kill the damn thing. I'm done with this shit."
Then my grown-ass husband chased after his girlfriend like some teen with his first crush.
Watching him disappear, I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and dialed 911.
Yeah. If Erick had made his choice, I'd make mine too.
Time for him to live with the fallout.
Chapter3
The ambulance hauled me to the ER that day.
I'd been planning to end it anyway.
But halfway there, I started hemorrhaging.
Not surprised—my doctor had drilled it into me since week one.
Over thirty-five, shitty health, high-risk everything. Any stress could trigger a miscarriage.
Six months of walking on goddamn eggshells.
Meditation apps, breathing exercises—anything to keep my stress down.
But his side piece kept pushing.
Daily photo dumps of her and Erick getting it on.
Called me a worthless old bitch, saying my baby was cursed.
She'd send me videos of deformed newborns, just to mess with my head.
And now this fake wedding invite stunt.
And Erick? One fake tear from princess, and he's ready to abandon everything.
Even picked her over his own blood.
Whatever. Kid deserved better than a deadbeat dad anyway.
Five days in the hospital. Not one call from Erick.
He didn't even know his baby's gone.
But Instagram tells the real story—matching couple pics, million-dollar shopping sprees on our dime.
I couldn't figure out why he'd gotten so reckless, until my lawyer showed up.
He told me Erick's little mistress is pregnant too.
The evidence pile was thick—hundreds of shots.
Erick holding her hand at her prenatal visits, grocery runs.
They were even wearing matching wedding rings.
My chest felt like it was caving in.
Once upon a time, that tender look was mine.
Now she was his whole world.
Seeing me break down, my lawyer awkwardly patted my shoulder.
"Look. It's just a divorce. You'll get through this."
I wiped my eyes.
Right. Just a divorce. No big deal.
Time to focus on what really mattered.
"Is there enough evidence to prosecute for bigamy?"
"Rock solid case."
"What about the tax evasion charges?"
"Six months ago, maybe not. Now? He's toast."
"And the bribery?"
"Airtight."
I crushed those photos in my fist.
"How long would he serve? All charges combined."
He shuffled papers. "Ballpark eight years."
Fresh tears started falling.
"Not nearly enough. Twenty years minimum."
Erick swore he'd cherish me forever.
Two decades behind bars seemed like fair compensation for that lie.
Mr. Devoted Daddy could contemplate his choices in a cell.
"Got it, Ma'am. I'll handle it."
Alone again, I watched sparrows outside my window.
Men are all the same lying trash.
Erick became his cheating father after all.
Chapter4
Ten more days in the hospital.
Ten days of Erick ghosting me completely.
But boy, was he busy—liquidating assets, moving money, covering his tracks.
I played dumb, as usual.
When I finally got home, there he was.
The housekeeper was steadying me through the door when his eyes locked onto my flat belly.
He lost his goddamn mind.
"Jesus Christ! You really killed our baby?!"
"How sick are you! Julia!"
I pushed away from my housekeeper and wobbled toward him.
Then I slapped the shit out of him. Multiple times.
"You think I killed it? I miscarried! You asshole!"
"Minute you walked out that door, I was bleeding out on our living room floor!"
"Your daughter died, Erick. and you were busy playing daddy to someone else's kid!"
My voice was pure venom.
Yeah, I'd been planning to terminate anyway, but losing her still ripped me apart.
Maybe seeing me completely shattered finally got through to him, because he actually pulled me close.
"God, Julia. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Feeling his warmth, I gripped his jacket.
"Stay with me. Ten days. And I'll sign your papers. You can have your perfect little family."
Something in my voice got to him. He brushed tears off my face gently.
"Okay. Ten days."
I bit back more words, nails digging crescents in my palms.
This wasn't about saving us anymore. Just one last test.
Back when we'd gotten married, I'd been brutally honest about my limits.
Three strikes policy.
First strike: caught him cheating. I played blind.
Second strike: he tried to leave me for her. I got pregnant to keep him.
Third strike: Right now.
Some stupid part of me still thought he might come back.
Chapter5
The first three days, Erick actually tried.
He took care of me during recovery like some devoted husband.
Even moved back into our bedroom when I begged.
For a split second, watching him be gentle again, I thought maybe this time would be different.
But by day four, the phone calls started. Then the mysterious errands.
Day five, his pregnant girlfriend Stella strutted right through my front door..
She smirked at my flat belly.
"Aw, well. Look who lost her little bargaining chip."
"Honestly, what were you thinking? Someone your age trying to play mommy."
Instead of shutting her down, Erick just shrugged apologetically.
"Sorry. Pregnancy's got babe's all moody."
Babe.
He'd never called me that. Not once in ten years.
Even at our best, I'd never been his babe.
My chest felt hollow.
She moved her shit right into our bedroom that same day, like she owned the place.
"Get out. This is my house."
She actually laughed.
"Honey, check the deed. This place is mine now. I'm being nice letting you crash here."
"Erick promised you ten whole days to play grieving widow, so I guess I can be charitable."
He'd transferred the house too. The place where we'd built every memory we had.
That's why I'd wanted our last ten days here.
My throat went tight.
Seeing me about to break, Erick scrambled for excuses.
"Look, Jules, business has been rough. I'm drowning in debt. Had to sell some assets."
"How was I supposed to know she'd buy the place?"
Every word made it worse.
So that's how much he loved her? Gave her our money, our home, everything.
I swallowed the glass in my throat. "Fine. Her house, her rules."
"Help me pack my stuff. Start with the art studio."
Back when Erick still painted, I was his favorite subject.
He used to joke that if business failed, he'd become a starving artist and I'd be his muse.
The second we hit the studio, girlfriend dearest twisted the knife.
"Oh, didn't he tell you? He redid all these with me as the model."
I looked at Erick. His guilty expression said everything.
I laughing bitterly.
If our memories meant that little, why preserve any of it?
That night I had the staff haul every painting to the backyard and burn them.
The next week, I torched our entire history.
Room by room, memory by memory.
Everything we'd built together—smashed, burned, destroyed while they watched.
Stella was loving every second.
Erick would occasionally wince, but only to say, "Christ, that was expensive."
Never about what it meant. Just the price tag.
By day ten, I was emotionally flatlined. Couldn't even cry anymore.
That's when Stella slapped the divorce papers down.
"Done with your little tantrum? Time to sign and bounce."
She threw a check at my face. "Five hundred grand. Erick's feeling generous."
I stared at that check, completely empty inside.
One last time, I looked at my husband.
"This is really it? No take-backs?"
"Remember what I told you when we got married? Three strikes. This is number three."
For just a second, Erick hesitated.
Then his girlfriend hurled scalding milk at my face.
"Quit trying to steal my man! You pathetic bitch!"
She turned on Erick. "Remember what I'm carrying? Your son!"
Son. She emphasized it like a weapon.
My lost baby had been a girl.
No wonder he'd picked the woman giving him his golden boy.
The milk burned like hell, but I just stood up calmly and signed the papers.
Then I tore up the check.
"Thanks for not leaving me in debt, at least."
"Keep your money. I'll take nothing."
I walked out of my home of seven years with nothing but the clothes I was wearing.
Erick actually chased after me.
"How are you gonna survive without that money?"
"Don't be too dramatic, Julia."
Even in our final moment, he was calling me dramatic.
Tears finally came.
"You know what, Erick? Hating you feels like a waste of time."
He reached for me just as the federal agents appeared.
"Mr. Grant? You're under arrest for tax fraud. "
Watching the cuffs go on, Erick went white.
"Who reported me? Who—"
"Me." I didn't even turn around.
"I reported you."
He froze completely.
Behind me, Erick screamed my name with the same desperate, broken voice I'd used begging him not to leave.
He hadn't stayed for me that day.
Today, I wouldn't stay for him either.
Chapter6
Mom taught me this move.
When she was dying in that hospital bed—her and my baby brother both—her last words weren't about taking care of myself.
They were about taking Dad down.
She pressed a USB drive into my hand, packed with decades of his dirty deals.
At her funeral, eight of Dad's side pieces showed up.
Each one dragging along a son, angling for their piece of the pie.
Watching those vultures circle while Mom's portrait stared back with that tired and gray, I finally got it.
Why she'd killed herself trying to give him a son.
I wasn't enough. Mom never had a shot.
So she died for it. Let that baby die for it.
All chasing some fantasy that a son might save her marriage.
Dad was too busy to even show up to bury her.
The second her funeral ended, I sent everything to the feds.
They arrested him that night at mistress number three's place.
Dragged him out naked, screaming about his innocence.
But the woman who'd lived with him for decades? She knew exactly what he was.
That's why I loved Erick with everything I had—but always kept my insurance.
His company tanked within weeks.
No bail. No getting out.
His mother called constantly, sobbing, begging me to help him.
"Mom, I turned him in. He killed my baby. He earned this. "
I sent her the ambulance footage—me bleeding out, fighting for my life.
She never called again.
The real shock was his girlfriend showing up at my new place on her knees.
"Please, Julia, I'm begging you—get him out of there. I was such a bitch to you, I know that. But this baby needs his dad."
I watched her for a minute, then lifted her chin.
"You're actually pretty when you cry. No wonder he fell for it."
"Since you love him so much, maybe I should send you to keep him company."
She went white as a sheet and scrambled away.
I watched her run, almost laughing.
Run all you want, honey. If running worked, I'd have escaped that marriage years ago.
The only reason I didn't destroy her right then was the pregnancy.
I don't mess with pregnant women.
But the second that kid pops out? Game over.
My lawyer slipped me the news: twenty years, minimum.
Hearing that should've felt like victory.
Instead, just... empty.
I'd loved him once. Watching him crash wasn't exactly the victory lap I'd imagined.
Later, Erick asked to see me.
I showed up in white. Head to toe.
The second Erick saw me, his eyes went bloodshot.
"Jules, please. I screwed up, I know that. You lost our baby because of me."
"I keep dreaming about our early days. You always wore white back then. Like some beautiful angel!"
"Even when you were pissed at me, I was crazy about you."
His voice cracked on every word.
"Erick." I kept it flat. "I never wore white when we were dating."
"I thought our love was too beautiful for white. Unqualified."
"I wore red. Pink. Bright colors."
"I'm wearing white today because I'm here for your funeral. Twenty years might as well be forever."
He stared at me like I'd slapped him.
Then the mask melted off. Pure rage underneath.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Ten years together and this is how you end it? You could've just divorced me, but no—you had to destroy my entire life!"
"I told you everything, trusted you with my whole life, and you burned it all down!"
I studied his twisted expression.
"You look exactly like I did, begging you to come home."
"Crying on the phone. 'Erick, please, I miss you.'"
"Same face. And you looked exactly like I do now—cold as ice, like our history meant nothing."
"You keep calling me pincushion, but what did I actually do? You committed crimes. I reported them. That's called being a good citizen."
"Meanwhile, you're the one who screwed around for months, knocked up your side piece, then tried to hide a hundred million while tossing me table scraps."
"Thought you were so slick I'd never catch on. But loving you didn't lobotomize me, Erick."
"You moved your pregnant girlfriend into our bed, signed our house over to her, and somehow thought I wouldn't notice."
"If you'd respected me even a little, you never would've gotten this sloppy."
His face went chalk-white.
"If you wanted more money, you could've just asked—"
I laughed ironically.
"Would you have listened? Your heart was already gone."
"You forgot something, though. Your startup money? That was mine. When you were nobody, I was there."
"If you'd just been honest about the affair—if you'd shown me one ounce of decency—we wouldn't be here."
I stood up.
That's when he broke completely.
"Jules, wait! I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry this time!"
"Just don't hurt her. Do whatever you want to me, but leave Stella alone. Don't hurt the baby."
I stopped. Smiled. Walked back.
From my purse, I pulled out a medical report from six months ago.
Erick's fertility test.
Sperm count: zero.
Watching him process it, his hands started shaking.
"You're not very bright, are you?" I said gently.
"She never loved you. Just your money."
"My baby was made with sperm you'd banked five years ago."
"Congratulations—you killed your last child."
I walked out without looking back.
Outside, the lawyer looked stunned. "Mrs. Grant, if you had this evidence—"
"It's fake."
His jaw dropped.
"Relax. It's not evidence. As long as he believes it, it's real enough."
Chapter7
Erick bought every word.
That night, word came back: Stella got jumped by some random thug. Lost the baby.
I sat there holding my own ultrasound, completely hollow inside.
I'd tortured myself with the same question for weeks:
If my baby had survived, would I have terminated out of pure spite?
Honest answer? No.
Maybe I hadn't wanted kids initially.
Maybe I'd planned to use the pregnancy as ammunition.
But I'd already fallen for that little heartbeat I'd never get to hold.
The familiar ache hit my chest.
I didn't sit with it long. Grabbed my keys and headed to the hospital.
We'd shared the same man, after all. Seemed like the decent thing to do.
Found her looking like a corpse—ghostly pale, machines beeping everywhere.
For maybe half a second, she reminded me of Mom in that hospital bed.
Almost made me consider mercy.
Then her phone buzzed.
"Mr. Anderson, hey—think we can frame Jules for this? No one knows who actually beat the shit out of me, so..."
"Right, no witnesses. We just buy some testimony. What's that gonna run me?"
Pure poison in her voice.
I leaned against the doorframe, almost impressed.
Note to self: never underestimate a desperate woman.
The second she hung up, I strolled in.
She lost her goddamn mind.
"Get out! You ruined Erick, murdered my baby—what the fuck else do you want from me?"
"I'll destroy you for what you did to my son, you psychotic bitch!"
I dropped a thick stack of papers on her bedside table.
"Relax, Stella. I'm not here for a catfight."
"I'm here about money."
Terror flickered across her face. "What money?"
My smile felt sharp.
"All those shell companies Erick transferred to you? Every single one owes my investment firm a fortune. Twenty mil, to be exact."
"They've all filed for bankruptcy, which makes you personally liable."
"Congratulations—you're officially fucked."
She started hyperventilating.
"Look confused, honey. Let me connect the dots: why d'you think Erick dumped those businesses on you? He knew they were toast. Needed someone to hold the bag."
"Guess who got played?"
Her eyes went dinner-plate wide.
"Erick wouldn't—he loves me—"
I pulled out a photo.
"About that beating you took? Your boyfriend arranged the whole thing. We had a deal—I'd let him play house with you for a while, then he'd handle your little pregnancy problem."
The photo showed Erick slipping cash to her attacker.
She went completely gray.
I stood up, suddenly bored.
"True love's a beautiful thing, right? Amazing how fast it crumbles when you ask the right questions."
"Takes years to build trust. Takes about five minutes to torch it."
I was barely through the door when her heart monitor started screaming.
Her breakdown echoed down the entire hallway.
I kept walking, stone-faced.
Seemed fair.
That's exactly how I'd lost baby too.
Chapter8
Stella hemorrhaged that same day. Emergency surgery, the whole nine yards.
A few days later, Erick got his sentence.
Twenty years.
I went to watch him get the news.
When he spotted me in the gallery, he completely lost it—shaking like a leaf, just like Dad had at his own hearing.
All those weeks in lockup, he'd been calling constantly.
Same broken record: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Watching him sob, I genuinely didn't get what he was apologizing for.
Growing up, he'd never once hugged me. Never said he loved me.
Sorry I'd blown my savings on lawyers trying to cut his sentence?
The second he saw me there, the waterworks started again.
First visitor day after sentencing, he pressed his hands against the glass.
"Jules—God, if I hadn't screwed around, we could've been happy, right? We could've made it?"
I shook my head slowly.
"The cheating wasn't the dealbreaker, Erick."
"Remember what I said at our wedding? Three strikes. You could mess up three times and I'd still take you back."
"I kept waiting for you to come home. And when I finally got brave enough to try for a baby, you literally stressed me into losing it."
"So don't you dare call me cold. You left me no choice."
He broke down completely.
"Damn, Jules—I'm so sorry. I lost my goddamn mind. Threw away the best thing I ever had—"
Watching him crumble just like Dad—all that guilt and regret—I still couldn't wrap my head around it.
If you know it'll destroy you, why do it in the first place?
Left the jail and went straight to finish Stella.
Fresh out of surgery, I had her served.
Wanted back every gift, every designer bag, every spa weekend Erick had bought her.
Plus the twenty mil in business debt now sitting in her name.
She couldn't cover a fraction of it.
Court ruined her credit forever. Blacklisted her from basically everything.
Then I flipped her debt to collectors for pennies on the dollar.
Wasn't about the money.
But I made sure they knew their job: keep her miserable for the next two decades.
Seemed right.
Woman that devoted to Erick should definitely stay faithful while he's locked up.
Once the paperwork cleared, I packed up and booked the first flight out.
This place had become a total shitshow.
I was done—never coming back.