I Married The Man With My Husband’s Heart

The test showed two pink lines.

I sat on the cold tile floor of the guest bathroom and stared at them. The fan hummed above me. Down the hall, I could hear Lainey laughing in the master suite. That laugh had lived in this penthouse for eight months now. I had learned to sleep through it.

But tonight, I couldn't hear anything except my own heartbeat.

I pressed my hand to my stomach. It was shaking. "Jeremiah," I whispered.

Three years ago, my husband Jeremiah Mitchell died in a car crash on the FDR. He was an architect. He drew lighthouses on napkins and left them on my pillow. He signed his donor card the year we got married. After he died, the hospital told me his heart went to a man named Dane Armstrong.

So I married that man.

Dane never knew why. He thought I wanted his money and his family name. He hated me for it. But every night, his heart beat inside his chest. And that heart was all I had left.

Now there was a baby. A baby made inside the body that carried Jeremiah's heart. For the first time in three years, I felt warm.

I told Dane that evening.

He was in the kitchen, pouring scotch. The city lights spilled through the glass walls behind him. Lainey Howard sat on the counter in one of his shirts, her bare legs swinging. Her white-lily perfume filled the room. It always did.

"I'm pregnant," I said.

Dane didn't move. Then he laughed. It was short and ugly.

"Whose is it?"

"Yours."

"Mine." He set the glass down hard. "We slept together once, Scarlet. Once. You expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to count," I said quietly.

His jaw went tight. His right hand pressed flat over his chest, right over his heart. He always did that when he was angry. I always watched.

"You're desperate," he said. "You're pathetic. You've been trying to trap me since day one." He yanked open a drawer and pulled out a manila envelope. He slammed it on the marble counter. "Sign these. Tonight. I'm done pretending. I want to be with Lainey."

Behind him, Lainey smiled. It was a soft, calm smile, like she had already won. She twisted the huge diamond ring on her finger. Dane bought it for her last month. I saw the charge on the company card.

"Dane, don't be too hard on her," Lainey said in her breathy little voice. "She's probably just confused."

"I'm not confused," I said.

"Then sign," Dane snapped.

I picked up the envelope. It was heavier than I expected. I turned it over once in my hands. Then I walked away.

"Scarlet!" he shouted. "Don't you walk away from me!"

I locked the guest room door behind me.

I didn't turn on the lights. I sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. This wall was shared with the master suite. I put my palm flat against it. On the other side, Jeremiah's heart was beating. Beating for a man who called me pathetic.

Something in my chest cracked. Not a break. Just a thin line, like ice on a pond in early March.

I took my ledger from the nightstand drawer. It was black leather, worn soft. Every deal was in it. The Halverson merger. The Tokyo expansion. The quiet share purchases through four shell companies. Fifty-one percent of the Armstrong Group. Mine.

Dane thought he built his empire. He thought he was a genius.

I turned the pages slowly until the sun came up.

At seven, I called Julian Vance. Julian was my attorney. He never asked questions he didn't need answered.

"You're up early," he said.

"I need a dossier," I said. "Every acquisition. Every voting right. Every deal I touched in three years. Bound and ready."

He paused. "Are we finally doing this?"

"We're preparing." I touched the silver cufflink at my wrist. "One more thing. I need a prenatal paternity test. Non-invasive. Private clinic. Clean chain of custody. Nothing anyone can argue with."

"You're pregnant."

"And he says it isn't his."

Julian let out a slow breath. "I'll have a clinic by noon."

I hung up and went back to the ledger. I didn't cry. Crying wastes time.

Four days later, the invitation came.

Thick cream paper. Gold edges. Eleanor Armstrong requests the pleasure of your company. Her 80th birthday. The Grand Ballroom at The Plaza.

Dane found me reading it at the counter. He took it from my fingers and glanced at it.

"You're not expected," he said. "Lainey's coming with me."

Lainey was on the sofa, scrolling her phone. She didn't look up. But I saw her lips curve.

"Not expected," I repeated.

"Don't make this a thing." He tossed the card back on the counter. "Have you signed yet?"

I didn't answer. I set the card down beside the fruit bowl and squared its edges with one finger.

He waited. Then he shook his head and left. The elevator doors slid shut behind him.

I picked up my phone.

"Julian," I said. "The ivory gown. The custom one. Make sure it's ready for Saturday night."

There was a short silence on the line. Then I could hear him smile.

"It'll be ready."

Outside, dark clouds rolled in over the Hudson. Rain was coming. I could feel it.