Kill the Mistress, Not My Problem! - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

That night, just as I was drifting off, his assistant called. "Miss Banks, Mr. Carter is digging up the madam's grave. You need to come stop him."
I laughed bitterly. I was the one Ryan Carter married, yet everyone still called Emma White "the madam" and me "Miss Banks."
Ever since I stood him up at the courthouse and filed for divorce, Ryan had taken to social media to declare Emma as the only wife he'd ever acknowledge. Overnight, I became Brooklyn's favorite punchline.
I smirked, rubbing the faint ache in my neck. "His mess, his problem. Take it up with the Carters—don't waste my time." I hung up before he could argue.
Grave robbing? Even for Ryan, that was a new low.
We'd talked divorce more times than we'd shared meals since Emma came back into the picture. But it never stuck—either I refused, or Emma conveniently summoned him away.
The last attempt was two months ago. Ryan offered half his fortune just to be rid of me. I agreed.
Then, the day before signing the papers, I found out I was pregnant. I ghosted him. Ryan blew up my phone, Emma vanished, and Old Mr. Carter dragged him into an all-night intervention.
Ryan didn't give a damn about anyone's opinion—except his grandfather's. By morning, he'd called off the search parties. No more frantic hunts for Emma.
We hadn't spoken since. The divorce went unmentioned. Back then, I'd foolishly thought, Even if he doesn't love me, maybe he'll care about the baby.
Pathetic.
The next day, I got rid of it. I wasn't noble enough to play single mom. If my child couldn't have a real family, they wouldn't have one at all.
The procedure was quick. By afternoon, it was over. No baby, no ties—just paperwork standing between me and freedom.
Ryan hadn't shown his face once. Not that I expected him to. He was too busy scouring the globe for his precious Emma, refusing to believe she was really dead.