A Reckoning for Our Lost Child

After five years of marriage, I was finally pregnant. I was ecstatic, practically vibrating with the need to show my husband, Jeffrey, the ultrasound photo on my phone.

However, the moment I stepped into the foyer of our Tribeca apartment, I overheard his conversation with his mother, Eleanor.

"When are you going to tell Olivia? Silene is already starting to show. The Sterling family can't be without an heir. The board is watching."

"Just give me a little more time. I'll handle it."

I was rooted to the spot, the blurry black-and-white image on my phone suddenly feeling like it was burning a hole through my hand.

So much for your promises, Jeffrey Sterling.

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1

The moment I found out Jeffrey Sterling was cheating, I should have stormed in and torn him to pieces. But I didn't. Instead, I calmly opened my laptop and began meticulously combing through his credit card statements and social media trails.

Silene Reed. A recent college graduate. An intern at Sterling Enterprises. She looked like a sweet, harmless little bunny.

Until six months ago, when Jeffrey took his team to Aspen for a corporate retreat, and she ended up in his bed.

Credit card records showed he'd booked the most expensive suite at the St. Regis that night. I pieced the truth together from the digital breadcrumbs she'd left across social media. Jeffrey's rival had tried to set a trap, arranging for a few call girls to ruin his reputation. But Silene? Somehow, she became the angel who "saved" him from the trap.

Afterward, Jeffrey tried to pay her off. She refused. But she had an ace up her sleeve: she was pregnant.

My mother-in-law, Eleanor Croft—a woman with a pathological obsession for the Sterling bloodline—would never allow an heir to be cast aside.

So, Eleanor had stepped in, "protecting" Silene in the name of the family.

It all made sense now. Jeffrey's endless "business trips," his excuses for rushing back to the office late at night—he had been running off to see Silene.

How many times had he slipped away in the middle of dinner, claiming a company emergency? Even our wedding anniversary was cut short by his supposed "overtime."

It turned out he was just playing house in his other home, with his other family.

So I waited, sitting in the living room, as still and cold as an ice sculpture.

Jeffrey came home right on cue.

"Honey, I'm sorry I'm late. But I brought you your favorite macarons."

He dangled a Ladurée box. Inside were their signature rose lychee flavor.

I glanced at the box, then slowly lifted my eyes to meet his. "Jeffrey, we need to talk."

"What's wrong, Olivia?"

He sat next to me, his arm sliding over my shoulder out of habit.

The lingering scent of another perfume, cloying and cheap, clung to him. I smiled faintly, my tone as placid as ever. "Let's get a divorce."

Jeffrey's body went rigid, the smile freezing on his face. "Where is this coming from? Who's been talking to you?"

"No one." My voice was steady, betraying no emotion. "It's just... we've been married for five years and still don't have children. You're the sole heir to the Sterling family, and I don't want you to be without an heir. It's not fair to you."

"I'm not getting a divorce, Olivia. I love you. I only want you. We can keep trying for a baby."

His words were a shard of ice in my gut. How could he say that? How could he pretend his heart was still mine?

"Eleanor has always wanted a grandchild," I said softly, feigning a retreat. "I've held you back for too long."

"I'll handle my mom. Don't listen to her." His voice was firm. "You just take care of yourself. It doesn't matter if we have a child or not. If it comes to that, we can adopt."

He paused, as if a brilliant idea had struck him. "There are plenty of girls who can't afford to keep their babies. They'd be happy for us to adopt one. You wouldn't even have to go through the pain of childbirth, and we could raise it as our own."

He gave my cheek a patronizing pat. "I'll take care of everything."

I leaned against him, resting my head on his chest. The familiar rhythm of his heartbeat brought me no peace. None at all.

Jeffrey's plan was clear as day: bring that illegitimate child into the Sterling home and have me raise it. He wanted me to be the fool, the nanny.

What a joke. As if I were the one who couldn't have children.

God, you're insatiable, Jeffrey. You really are.

I didn't bring up the baby again. Instead, I focused my attention on Silene.

She had already quit her internship and was now nesting in a luxury apartment in the West Village, complete with a full-time maid. Of course, someone like Silene, so eager to climb the social ladder, couldn't resist showing off. Her social media was filled with luxury goods and carefully curated photos of a high-end lifestyle.

Four months pregnant! Jeffrey’s mom just gifted me another Van Cleef & Arpels set! I told her she shouldn't, but she insisted. She’s the absolute sweetest!

He said this baby is the hope of the family, and I'm the angel who brought it all!

Just the two of us at Daniel. Can't wait for it to be the three of us!

Her latest post was a photo taken at the restaurant. A man's wrist appeared casually in the corner of the frame, and I recognized the watch instantly.

It was the limited-edition Patek Philippe I had given Jeffrey for his thirtieth birthday.

Bold, I thought.

He hadn't even bothered to take it off. Too absorbed in the moment? Or did he just assume I'd never see it?

Using a burner account, I left a comment under her post:

The watch is very chic. My husband has one just like it.

Five minutes later, when I refreshed the page, the post was gone.

I put down my phone, a slow smile spreading across my face.

Ah, so she does know a mistress is meant to stay in the shadows.