His Pregnant Mistress Disappeared… And So Did I - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading His Pregnant Mistress Disappeared… And So Did I, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of His Pregnant Mistress Disappeared… And So Did I.
"Serena's pregnant. We're coming home."
"She's not feeling well—needs rest. Have the housekeeper prepare the master bedroom."
"She can barely keep food down. Tell the kitchen to make light meals."
"Lately, she's been craving sweets. She loves your macarons."
"Keep the room minimalist. She likes natural light—get those sheer curtains."
"Oh, and organize the walk-in closet. Stick to her favorite colors—sky blue, soft green, those fresh tones."
"One more thing—the baby will carry my name. Handle the paperwork."
Message after message. Every word dripping with concern… for her.
I deleted them. Blocked him.
Then I turned away.
And never looked back.
Serena didn't want to return to the States just yet. She wanted to linger overseas a little longer, and Richard was paranoid the paparazzi would catch her condition and ruin her image.
So they stayed abroad.
Not that it mattered. He'd already left everything at home to me.
"Mr. Montgomery's quite the charmer—jet-setting with his mistress while his wife cleans up his mess back home," someone snickered at a business dinner.
"Doesn't Mrs. Montgomery mind?"
Another voice cut in, dripping with amusement: "You really don't get it, do you, Mr. Griffin?"
"Mrs. Montgomery is famously devoted."
"Even if he paraded a dozen mistresses, she'd probably hand him the divorce papers herself—just to make room for the new girl."
"Right, Mr. Montgomery?"
Richard smirked.
Not entirely wrong.
Wendy was gentle. Obedient.
Her eyes—her heart—had always been his. And she'd been useful to his career.
When I told her I was giving Serena Best Actress, she didn't even flinch.
Just asked when I'd be home.
As if she couldn't stand a single day without me.
Just then, his secretary slipped in. Richard waved her over, lips curling.
"How's Wendy? Did she follow my instructions?"
The secretary hesitated, glancing at the guests.
"Go ahead. They're all old friends."
She lowered her voice. "The housekeeper called. Mrs. Montgomery… moved out."
"Moved out?"
"Yes. She packed her things and… left."
Richard shot to his feet.
Serena, silent until now, let out a soft laugh. "Seems Mrs. Montgomery has a spine after all."
Then, on cue, her eyes welled up. "This is my fault. I've been so selfish…"
"Mr. Montgomery, we should go back. What if she divorces you?"
Richard scoffed.
Divorce? And go crawling back to that viper's nest of a family?
"Kevin," he barked at his secretary, "push my flight back two weeks."
Let's see.
Where would she go? How long could she last?
If she divorced him, her only option was her father's house—a place she'd escaped the moment she married him. Her mother was gone. Her stepmother had already clawed away half her inheritance.
She'd never go back.
I didn't.
I went to my aunt's.
"You're really divorcing Richard?"
I hadn't cried when he signed the papers without hesitation. I hadn't cried when I walked out of that mansion alone, dragging my suitcase behind me.
But now, at my aunt's quiet concern, the dam broke.
"Shh, don't cry. It's for the best." She pulled me into a hug. "The whole damn industry knows about that bastard's affairs."
I wiped my tears, leaning into her.
"What's your plan now?"
I rarely confided in her—not about my stepmother's cruelty growing up, not about the quiet misery of my marriage. My aunt was a powerhouse film producer, swamped enough without my drama.
But this time, the words spilled out.
And when I finished, I whispered, "Aunt… please don't tell anyone about the divorce yet."
"She's not feeling well—needs rest. Have the housekeeper prepare the master bedroom."
"She can barely keep food down. Tell the kitchen to make light meals."
"Lately, she's been craving sweets. She loves your macarons."
"Keep the room minimalist. She likes natural light—get those sheer curtains."
"Oh, and organize the walk-in closet. Stick to her favorite colors—sky blue, soft green, those fresh tones."
"One more thing—the baby will carry my name. Handle the paperwork."
Message after message. Every word dripping with concern… for her.
I deleted them. Blocked him.
Then I turned away.
And never looked back.
Serena didn't want to return to the States just yet. She wanted to linger overseas a little longer, and Richard was paranoid the paparazzi would catch her condition and ruin her image.
So they stayed abroad.
Not that it mattered. He'd already left everything at home to me.
"Mr. Montgomery's quite the charmer—jet-setting with his mistress while his wife cleans up his mess back home," someone snickered at a business dinner.
"Doesn't Mrs. Montgomery mind?"
Another voice cut in, dripping with amusement: "You really don't get it, do you, Mr. Griffin?"
"Mrs. Montgomery is famously devoted."
"Even if he paraded a dozen mistresses, she'd probably hand him the divorce papers herself—just to make room for the new girl."
"Right, Mr. Montgomery?"
Richard smirked.
Not entirely wrong.
Wendy was gentle. Obedient.
Her eyes—her heart—had always been his. And she'd been useful to his career.
When I told her I was giving Serena Best Actress, she didn't even flinch.
Just asked when I'd be home.
As if she couldn't stand a single day without me.
Just then, his secretary slipped in. Richard waved her over, lips curling.
"How's Wendy? Did she follow my instructions?"
The secretary hesitated, glancing at the guests.
"Go ahead. They're all old friends."
She lowered her voice. "The housekeeper called. Mrs. Montgomery… moved out."
"Moved out?"
"Yes. She packed her things and… left."
Richard shot to his feet.
Serena, silent until now, let out a soft laugh. "Seems Mrs. Montgomery has a spine after all."
Then, on cue, her eyes welled up. "This is my fault. I've been so selfish…"
"Mr. Montgomery, we should go back. What if she divorces you?"
Richard scoffed.
Divorce? And go crawling back to that viper's nest of a family?
"Kevin," he barked at his secretary, "push my flight back two weeks."
Let's see.
Where would she go? How long could she last?
If she divorced him, her only option was her father's house—a place she'd escaped the moment she married him. Her mother was gone. Her stepmother had already clawed away half her inheritance.
She'd never go back.
I didn't.
I went to my aunt's.
"You're really divorcing Richard?"
I hadn't cried when he signed the papers without hesitation. I hadn't cried when I walked out of that mansion alone, dragging my suitcase behind me.
But now, at my aunt's quiet concern, the dam broke.
"Shh, don't cry. It's for the best." She pulled me into a hug. "The whole damn industry knows about that bastard's affairs."
I wiped my tears, leaning into her.
"What's your plan now?"
I rarely confided in her—not about my stepmother's cruelty growing up, not about the quiet misery of my marriage. My aunt was a powerhouse film producer, swamped enough without my drama.
But this time, the words spilled out.
And when I finished, I whispered, "Aunt… please don't tell anyone about the divorce yet."
End of His Pregnant Mistress Disappeared… And So Did I Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to His Pregnant Mistress Disappeared… And So Did I book page.