This whole thing didn't make Cecelia back off. Nope. Instead, she sent me a friend request on social media.

I tapped her profile pic—a lazy cat lounging in some bougie villa room. Cute. Neil hated animals. Once, I suggested getting a cat to keep me company, but he shot it down, claiming he was "allergic." Now, with Cecelia? Guess all his so-called principles were out the window.

I accepted the request. Almost immediately, she slid into my DMs:

[Mrs. Schmidt, I'm not trying to break up your marriage. I just want to have this child. Life is precious.]

Wow. She couldn't wait to tell me she was pregnant, like she was doing charity work or something. I left her on read. A few minutes later, she messaged again:

[Mrs. Schmidt, I'm telling the truth!]

By then, I'd already saved all her posts and photos. Screenshots on lock.

Finally, I replied:

[What are you saying? You're pregnant? It's Neil's?]

The typing bubble popped up—blinked a few times—like she kept starting and stopping. Then:

[Sorry, I thought you knew.]

I shot back: [Don't play these petty games with me. Having the baby is your business. Whether Neil acknowledges it or not is his problem. It has nothing to do with me.]

She didn't reply.

***

I booked the abortion. Then I called Maya to get the divorce paperwork rolling.

Neil and I had always been that couple—the ones everyone pointed to as perfect. No clingy side chicks. No gold-digging wannabes. I really thought we were in this for love. I never expected him to hit me with such a brutal betrayal—one that created a whole life.

Maya Zane, my best friend and lawyer, nearly dropped her phone when I told her.

"Angela, did you hit your head, or did someone hex you?"

"He has someone else," I said flatly. "She's four months pregnant."

Maya lost it. "Where's my knife? That scumbag's got some nerve. I'll kill him myself."

I held up a hand. "Let it go. He's not worth it. I just want the money. He's the one at fault here."

She stared at me for a long second, then pulled me into a hug. "Angela, you don't have to hold it in. If you need to cry, cry. I've got you."

But the tears wouldn't come. My chest ached like someone had reached in, ripped something out, and left me hollow. When pain cuts that deep, you don't cry—you just feel the raw edges.

"Maya, I want a divorce. I want half of everything."

"Done. I'll handle it."

An hour later, I showed up at my parents' place with the divorce agreement.

When I told them about Neil and the baby, my dad's face went storm-cloud dark.

"Angela, do whatever you need to. We'll stand by you," he said, his voice firm.

"And as for... the child, that's your decision," Mom added softly.

I rested a hand on my stomach. A life had already started growing there.

If Neil hadn't been hiding his lies, we'd probably be celebrating this moment right now.

But I'd already made up my mind.

My parents respected my decision. They let me handle the divorce, but made it clear: if the Schmidt family started any drama, they'd step in.

After leaving their house, I headed to the hospital for a pre-procedure check-up. Just a few things I had to take care of first.

While waiting to pay, I spotted Rowina leading Cecelia into a VIP ward. My stomach turned, but before I could think it through, I followed.

"Cece, I've told you—Neil cares about you. Stop overthinking," Rowina's voice carried through the door. "He's not saying anything right now because we need to keep Angela calm. The Anne family is still working with us."

The words made me sick. I turned on my heel and stormed off.

At the end of the hallway, I ran straight into Neil.

The second he saw me, he froze. Panic flashed across his face. "Angela? What are you doing here? Are you not feeling well?"

He tried to look concerned, shifting from surprise to fake sympathy in record time.

I didn't say a word, just glanced at the pregnancy report he was holding. Neil's eyes darted to the paper, realizing what it looked like. "It's for an employee," he blurted. "She fell earlier and nearly miscarried. I brought her in for a check-up."

His voice softened. "And you?" he asked, careful now. "Why are you here?"

Neil didn't seem to realize that when he was nervous, his fingers always fidgeted at the edge of his shirt.

I smiled faintly. "I'm visiting a friend. She's hospitalized."

Relief washed over his face. "Where are you headed? I'll drive you."

"No need. You're busy. It's your employee, after all. Can't have rumors spreading that the Schmidt family mistreats staff. If she miscarried, well, that'd be on us, wouldn't it?"

Neil froze, caught off guard, but I didn't wait for his response. I turned and walked out.

Once outside, I gulped down a deep breath of fresh air. By the time I got home, I didn't hesitate—I packed up every last one of Neil's things and had them sent straight to that villa.

This was my house. My turf. If someone had to leave, it wasn't going to be me.

An hour later, Neil stormed in, his face flushed and frantic. He found me in the kitchen, calmly setting down a bowl of soup.

"Angela, I can explain!" he blurted, his voice desperate.

I looked up at him. "Neil, did you know? I've given you three chances.

"The first time was the day you came back from Ardenport. You had a mark on your neck. I asked about it, and you said it was from a stray cat.

"The second time, I told you I wanted a divorce because I didn't want you to be childless. You swore up and down you didn't care about kids, that you only wanted me.

"And the third time was today. You claimed she's just an employee—that you're such a good boss, you couldn't sit back and do nothing."

I sighed softly. "Neil, I'm not generous enough to sit back and watch my husband build another home outside of ours.

"Neil, we're done."

"No!" Neil panicked, his hands grabbing me.

"Angela, I love you! She's a mistake. Mom's already agreed—we'll keep the baby, but I'll send her away! Once she gives birth, I'll make sure she's gone. She won't interfere with us. You'll always be Mrs. Schmidt!"

I patted his shoulder and pushed myself out of his grip. Calmly, I handed him the document I'd prepared. "I don't trust you. Not unless you transfer all your assets to me."

His eyes darted to mine, but I kept going. "I have no children—just you. But you? You've got a kid and another family waiting for you outside. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"

Neil stared at the agreement in silence, the seconds dragging out. Finally, his voice came hoarse and shaky. "Pulling that much money out of the company... it might not be appropriate."

"Then let's just get a divorce, Neil," I said, cool as ever. "I don't tolerate betrayal. You can't bear to lose me, and you can't bear to lose your money either. But you can't have it both ways."

I slid the divorce papers across the table.

Neil didn't even glance at them. He just ripped them apart. "I'll agree! I'll give it all to you!" he said, holding me tightly. "Angela, I won't let you down. Once she gives birth, this will all be over."

Over? I almost laughed in his face.

Neil was so naive it was almost sad. Cecelia came from nowhere—someone like Neil was the best shot she'd ever get, and she wasn't letting go of him anytime soon. Getting pregnant, wrecking someone's marriage, posting smug little hints all over social media? She was playing for keeps.

To my surprise, Neil actually moved fast. Three days later, he brought in a lawyer and transferred everything to me.

He even added an extra 10% of the company shares. When word got out, the whole hospital buzzed with gossip.

Neil had barely finished signing when his phone rang. "Angela," he said, half out the door already, "there's an emergency at the company. I'll come back and spend time with you once it's handled."

"Go ahead," I said sweetly, practically ushering him out.

The second he left, I grabbed my bag and headed straight to the hospital.

Before my procedure, I made a point to stop by Cecelia's room.

She was curled up in Neil's arms, tears streaking down her face. "Neil, I'm scared. Are you going to leave me?"

He stroked her back like she was some fragile thing. "Don't be afraid, Cece. I won't leave you. This is my first child—you're his mother. No one can separate us."

The words cut deeper than I expected. I thought I was numb to this.

'Neil, you really think you can have it all, huh?'

On the operating table, the doctor's voice was steady but firm. "The procedure is about to begin. Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. I'm sure," I replied. "Go ahead."

This child? I didn't want it anymore.

And the father? I didn't want him either.