After He Chose His Mistress Over Our Unborn Child

I stared at the dotted line, my hand trembling as I held the pen. Six months of pregnancy had made my fingers slightly swollen, the gold band on my ring finger digging into my skin. The irony wasn't lost on me—the wedding ring Ryan had slipped onto my finger six years ago now felt like a shackle as I signed the divorce papers that would legally end our marriage.

"Mrs. Blackwood—I mean, Ms. Mitchell," the clerk corrected herself, her voice echoing in the sterile Manhattan courthouse. "Initial here and here."

The words blurred before my eyes. Temporary, Ryan had promised. Just until the merger goes through. It's just business, Sarah. You know you're the only one. The memory of his reassurances from three months ago rang hollow now.

A tear splashed onto the paper, smudging my signature. I quickly wiped it away, not wanting evidence of my weakness to stain this document. My hand instinctively moved to my rounded belly, feeling our child shift beneath my palm.

"Congratulations," the clerk said mechanically, sliding the papers into a folder. "Your divorce is finalized."

Congratulations. As if ending an eight-year relationship deserved celebration.

I walked out of the courthouse alone, the late afternoon sun harsh against my face. Ryan had offered to come with me, but I'd refused. If he was going to publicly announce his engagement to Victoria Sterling tonight, I didn't want to see his face before then. I needed whatever scraps of dignity I could salvage.

* * *

Hours later, I stood at our penthouse window, forty floors above Manhattan. The city lights blurred through my tears as I watched the massive screens in Times Square broadcasting live from the Plaza Hotel. The camera panned across the glittering ballroom before settling on Ryan—my husband, my ex-husband as of today—standing at a podium with Victoria Sterling on his arm.

Even through the screen, I could see how beautiful she was. Tall, willowy, with the kind of aristocratic features that spoke of generations of wealth. Her hand rested possessively on Ryan's arm, her diamond bracelet catching the light. The daughter of Sterling Investment Group's founder, and Ryan's ticket to the merger that would triple his company's value overnight.

"I'm pleased to announce my engagement to Victoria," Ryan's voice filled our living room. I hadn't lowered the volume, some masochistic part of me wanting to hear every word. "Our union represents not just a personal commitment, but a joining of two visionary companies..."

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass. Eight years ago, he'd been arrested for organizing a flash mob proposal in the middle of UCLA's campus. He'd looked at me then like I was his entire world. Now he was looking at Victoria with practiced affection, his media smile firmly in place.

Business, I reminded myself. Just business.

But as Victoria leaned up to kiss him, her red lips leaving a mark on his cheek, my heart shattered all over again.

* * *

Our bedroom felt cavernous as I pulled a small overnight bag from the closet. Ryan had insisted I keep living in the penthouse—it was in my name anyway, like most of his assets—but tonight, I couldn't bear to sleep in our bed. I'd stay at a hotel, just for tonight, until I could breathe again without feeling like my chest was caving in.

I packed methodically: nightgown, toiletries, prenatal vitamins. My fingers brushed against the framed photo on my nightstand—Ryan and me in the Hamptons last summer, his arms wrapped around me from behind, both of us laughing at something forgotten. I turned the frame facedown.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I cradled my belly with both hands. "It's going to be okay," I whispered, not sure if I was reassuring the baby or myself. "Daddy's just doing what he thinks is best for us."

But for the first time since I'd met Ryan Blackwood, I felt a crack forming in the foundation of my trust. A hairline fracture in the absolute faith I'd always had in him. Three months, he'd promised. Just three months of this charade, and then we'd be together again, stronger than ever.

I zipped the overnight bag closed, my wedding ring catching the light. I should take it off, I thought. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not yet.

Not until I was sure this crack wouldn't spread and shatter everything we'd built.