I'll Raise His Mistress's Baby - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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I never left. Just sat frozen in the car across the street, watching through tinted windows as they emerged hand-in-hand.
"Wayne," I told my driver, voice steadier than I felt, "follow them."
Herbert's black sedan circled the block before stopping at a gated mansion. For agonizing minutes, nothing moved—until the car began rocking violently.
My nails bit crescent moons into my palms. I barely noticed.
"Ms. Brown..." Wayne hesitated, his rearview mirror reflecting decades of loyalty. "Forgive an old man's bluntness, but that boy never deserved you."
Silence stretched between us until Herbert finally emerged, scooping a disheveled Stella into his arms. Her torn dress barely clung to her body, his suit jacket doing little to preserve her modesty.
Then my phone buzzed.
Stella's "gift" was an audio clip that made my stomach twist: "Since your mouth down there isn't cooperating..." Herbert's voice, rough with desire—a tone he'd never used with me in ten years of marriage.
"Wayne?" I stared at the mansion's wrought-iron gates. "There'll be a bonus in your account tomorrow. After I'm gone... you should go too."
Home became a warzone. The baseball bat felt right in my hands as I demolished 2,152 square feet of lies—shattered wedding portraits, crushed designer handbags, our pathetic pottery class creations reduced to dust.
22:03. The digital clock glowed as I tossed the last bank statement into my bag.
Herbert's text arrived as we merged onto the highway: "Late at the office. Don't wait up. Love you." I ejected the SIM card, watching it vanish beneath following tires.
Behind us, the skyline erupted with drones forming Stella's smirking face—a viral-worthy spectacle already flooding social media. Which billionaire is proposing?! the comments screamed.
I pressed my forehead to the cool window. Ten years dissolved like raindrops on glass. No anchors left. Just Dad's untouched travel fund and the whole world ahead.
Real goodbyes don't come with speeches. Mine was a whisper as the plane lifted off: "Hope I never see you again, Herbert."
Somewhere over the Atlantic, I finally breathed.
They'd find my parting gift soon enough.
"Wayne," I told my driver, voice steadier than I felt, "follow them."
Herbert's black sedan circled the block before stopping at a gated mansion. For agonizing minutes, nothing moved—until the car began rocking violently.
My nails bit crescent moons into my palms. I barely noticed.
"Ms. Brown..." Wayne hesitated, his rearview mirror reflecting decades of loyalty. "Forgive an old man's bluntness, but that boy never deserved you."
Silence stretched between us until Herbert finally emerged, scooping a disheveled Stella into his arms. Her torn dress barely clung to her body, his suit jacket doing little to preserve her modesty.
Then my phone buzzed.
Stella's "gift" was an audio clip that made my stomach twist: "Since your mouth down there isn't cooperating..." Herbert's voice, rough with desire—a tone he'd never used with me in ten years of marriage.
"Wayne?" I stared at the mansion's wrought-iron gates. "There'll be a bonus in your account tomorrow. After I'm gone... you should go too."
Home became a warzone. The baseball bat felt right in my hands as I demolished 2,152 square feet of lies—shattered wedding portraits, crushed designer handbags, our pathetic pottery class creations reduced to dust.
22:03. The digital clock glowed as I tossed the last bank statement into my bag.
Herbert's text arrived as we merged onto the highway: "Late at the office. Don't wait up. Love you." I ejected the SIM card, watching it vanish beneath following tires.
Behind us, the skyline erupted with drones forming Stella's smirking face—a viral-worthy spectacle already flooding social media. Which billionaire is proposing?! the comments screamed.
I pressed my forehead to the cool window. Ten years dissolved like raindrops on glass. No anchors left. Just Dad's untouched travel fund and the whole world ahead.
Real goodbyes don't come with speeches. Mine was a whisper as the plane lifted off: "Hope I never see you again, Herbert."
Somewhere over the Atlantic, I finally breathed.
They'd find my parting gift soon enough.
End of I'll Raise His Mistress's Baby Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to I'll Raise His Mistress's Baby book page.