WTF! My Fiancé's Mistress Turned My Prize Horse into My Little Pony Right Before Kentucky Derby?！ - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

My husband Dante Shaw's true love and I both received our pregnancy test results on the same day.
My child—Dante's own flesh and blood.
Hers? Origins unknown.
But to preserve her "reputation," my husband publicly announced at the family banquet that the child in her womb belonged to the Shaw family's adopted son.
While my three-month-old baby was supposedly an "accident" from my business dealings with a client.
I broke down and demanded to know why.
He just said coolly: "Wren, Nina's delicate. She can't withstand gossip."
Nina suddenly frowned and touched her belly, and Dante immediately turned to support her, his movements so practiced it was as if they'd rehearsed it a thousand times.
I wiped away my tears and made up my mind—since you've humiliated me, I'll return it to you a hundredfold!
I showed Dante the surveillance screenshot on my phone of Nina kissing some unknown man in a hotel hallway.
"In that case, are you going to claim the kid in her belly too?"
"Her reputation is more important than anything, right?"
He stared at the photo, his fingertips gripping the phone so hard they turned white:
"Wren, don't push me."
"Push you?"
I yanked open the drawer and slammed down a stack of papers.
"Here's the deed to the condo you bought Nina with our money. Here's the eight hundred grand your mom transferred to her as 'nutrition fees.' And this—"
I held up my phone, showing a screenshot from Nina's manager's Instagram—location tagged in Paris, caption reading "Baby's first gift haul."
Dante grabbed my wrist so hard I gasped.
"You've been investigating her?"
"Nope," I pulled my arm free, the skin already red from his grip, and picked up the divorce papers from the table.
"You just let her waltz up to me and rub it in my face."
The agreement had only one demand: I wanted the lakefront house my parents had given us before we married.
But Dante tore up the papers instead.
His voice went soft, almost pleading:
"Wren, you know I love you."
"Once Nina has the baby, I'll come back to you."
Before he could finish, his phone rang.
"Nina, babe, you're craving something sour? Hold up, I'll grab it and bring it right over..."
I suddenly remembered last week when I was dying for some lychees.
What had Dante said then?
"Lychees are bad for our baby. Besides, they're out of season—where am I supposed to find those?"
There was literally a fruit stand downstairs.
But Dante just turned away and scrolled through his phone.
Before leaving, Dante pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"Be good, okay? Nina needs me right now. I'll make it up to you later."
I tried to dodge the kiss, but he held me tight.
His affection felt so real.
Yeah, we'd been married five years.
We used to love each other—really love each other.
Until Nina showed up and I finally figured out who Dante's heart really belonged to.
That night, while packing, I found a velvet box hidden in the back of our closet.
Inside was a sapphire ring with "W.P." engraved on the inside—my initials.
It was the engagement ring he'd given me. After Nina came back from abroad, I never saw him wear it again.
Under the box was a note in his handwriting from seven years ago:
"When I make my comeback, I'll give you the stars as gifts."
I laughed and tossed the ring in the trash.
The stars?
His starlight had been shining in Nina's eyes for ages now.
Dante's birthday party.
He called it a "casual get-together," but somehow the invitation ended up in my mom's hands.
I knew exactly what game he was playing.
He wanted to put on a show of "marital bliss" in front of my mother while officially introducing Nina as his "little sister."
When I walked in, Nina was wearing the exact same dress I'd worn to my birthday party last year, snuggled up to Dante while they cut the cake.
She spotted me and deliberately rubbed her belly:
"Wren! You made it! Dante was worried you weren't feeling well, so he had the kitchen make you some soup."
My mom immediately frowned:
"Wren, honey, you're skin and bones! Dante, how are you taking care of my daughter?"
I took a deep breath and smiled:
"Mom, it's just morning sickness. When you can't keep food down, you lose weight."
"True," Mom's voice carried just enough to reach the nearby tables. "My daughter's not like some people who can still prance around in four-inch heels doing ballet while pregnant."
Nina's face went ghostly pale, her fingers clutching Dante's sleeve.
"Wren," Dante's voice held a warning edge, "don't make a scene."
"Make a scene?" I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen a few times.
"Then explain this—who called me three days ago saying, 'I'll be Mrs. Shaw soon enough, and you better get rid of that bastard in your belly'?"
The party chatter died instantly.