Cheated on While Nine Months Pregnant, I Hold Divorce Papers

I had just swallowed a motion sickness pill when my husband, Shane Ackerman, threw me out of the car.

Nine months pregnant, I had to walk twenty kilometers home alone, all because of Shane's intense obsession with cleanliness and his hatred of anyone eating in his car.

Halfway down the road, I collapsed, blood pouring out of me.

This was the fourth time I'd lost a child.

When I finally reached the hospital entrance, I saw Mackenzie Wallace, Shane's so-called 'first love,' sitting in the passenger seat that used to be mine. They sat in the car, sharing a French fry, their lips nearly touching as they ate.

In the back seat, my mother-in-law wore a smug look, holding up her phone to snap a picture. She quickly posted it online with the caption:

[With that little brat of a daughter-in-law gone from the passenger seat, everything feels so much better. Even my chest feels lighter!]

When Shane tenderly wiped a speck of food from Mackenzie's lips, my heart turned to ash.

I asked for a divorce.

But Shane only scoffed.

"I know Ruth too well. She just loves to make trouble out of nothing. Let her leave. In a week, she'll come crawling back, begging me to forgive her."

But my parents' divorce agreement, which had sat untouched for years, would automatically take effect in seven days.

This time, I was serious. I was leaving.

...

Ruth's POV

At eighteen, I fell in love with Shane Ackerman at first sight and swore I would marry him.

At nineteen, my parents warned me that if I went through with it, I would be disowned by my family.

I cried, screamed, and even tried to hang myself, forcing them to sign a letter of estrangement.

That night, I climbed out of my window and eloped with Shane.

At twenty, my parents died in a car accident, leaving behind only a bloodstained note that read, 'Shane is not a good man' and a divorce agreement.

I ignored it and even skipped their funeral to sit beside Shane while he tattooed my name across his collarbone.

At twenty-one years and three months pregnant, a woman named Mackenzie Wallace suddenly returned from abroad.

Rumors said she was Shane's first love.

After drinking a beverage she handed me, I suffered lead poisoning and miscarried.

When I told Shane the truth for the first time, he looked at me with disgust.

"The sick see filth everywhere," he said coldly. "Don't drag Mackenzie down into your filth."

At twenty-two, I reluctantly accepted our strange love triangle, though every flicker of indifference from him stabbed me in the chest.

At twenty-three, six months pregnant, I was pushed down a flight of stairs by Mackenzie and spent three days fighting for my life in the ICU.

Although the surgeon announced a critical condition, Shane's phone was unreachable. However, he still posted a picture on Instagram of himself watching a meteor shower with Mackenzie.

And now, at twenty-four, I finally understood.

The Shane who once comforted me during my period cramps by rubbing my stomach and draping his jacket over my shoulders when I was cold—the man whose entire world centered around me and who would do anything for me—died the day Mackenzie came back.

For the first time, I opened the divorce agreement my parents had left behind.

[Ruth, this divorce agreement was something we tricked Shane into signing on your wedding day. If he betrays you within five years, it will automatically come into effect. Forgive us for interfering in your marriage. We always wish for your happiness.]

Tears soaked the yellowed paper as my trembling fingers dialed the phone.

"Atty. Montgomery, please check whether this divorce agreement can be enforced."

He replied, "Give me a day. I'll get back to you."

After hanging up, I hobbled back to the Ackerman Mansion from the hospital, my feet blistered and burning.

Before I could even step inside, my mother-in-law, Viola, greeted me with a mock, "Ruth, back so soon? You talked tough when you asked for a divorce. Can't live without my son after all?"

A basket of dirty laundry was shoved in my face.

The stench of Mackenzie's bloodstained underwear made my stomach churn.

"Get these washed, useless, lazy women! Do you think you can live here in comfort without working?"

I set the basket back down, my voice calm as I said, "I'm not here to be anyone's maid."

A sharp slap cracked across my face, leaving my head ringing.

"You couldn't even keep a child, and now you can't even do this one thing? How blind was my son to marry a curse like you?"

From the staircase, Shane descended slowly, brow furrowed. "Mom, that's enough."

But he didn't look at me.

His arm was wrapped protectively around Mackenzie as he said, "Don't lash out in front of Mackenzie. You'll scare the baby she's carrying."

Viola's expression changed instantly, delight lighting up her face.

"A child? Now that's what makes a proper daughter-in-law of the Ackerman family!"

Mackenzie was pregnant.

My heart instantly sank.

If Shane had at least tried to keep up appearances before, and never brought her into the house, now her pregnancy gave him the perfect excuse.

Shoving my suitcase roughly to my feet, Shane said, "Pack your things. From tonight onward, you'll sleep in the guest room. Mackenzie is carrying my son. You've always been sensible. You know what matters most, and what matters less."

'What matters more, what matters less...'

That was his favorite phrase.

Once, I was the weight in his palm, treasured, cherished. Now, I was lighter than a feather, but the fall hurt more than ever.

"No need." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'll move out tonight."