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After He Destroyed Me, I Became His Rival's Queen Novel Cover

After He Destroyed Me, I Became His Rival's Queen

At her mother’s funeral, Claudia Simmons faces the ultimate betrayal when her husband, Tristram Stephens, demands a divorce. He wants to marry his pregnant secretary, Lois, solely to register the child under his family name, promising to remarry Claudia later. But Claudia remembers the two pregnancies Tristram forced her to terminate, leaving her sterile. Watching the mistress flaunt her pregnancy, Claudia realizes his empty promises are a sham. For her, a divorce is final.
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Chapter 3

I didn't say a word. I just nodded, then handed him the divorce agreement.

Tristram took it and stared at my signature on the consent line. For a moment, he looked stunned.

He hadn't expected me to agree so easily. Something unnamed tightened in his chest.

“Don't worry. I already talked it over with Lois. Once the baby's on the birth certificate, she and I will divorce.”

“Then you and I can remarry.”

“Whatever you say.”

My voice was flat. I held my mother's memorial portrait against my chest and turned toward the bedroom.

“Wait.”

Tristram stopped me. I paused and looked back, confused.

“Lois is in that room now.”

“What?”

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Tristram frowned, visibly annoyed:

“That room gets the best sunlight and the best airflow. Lois is pregnant, Claudia. You should have enough sense to figure this out on your own.”

I glanced at Lois. She let out a soft laugh:

“Oh, I told him it wasn't necessary, but Mr. Stephens insisted I move in there.”

“But I suppose there's no helping it. After all, I am carrying his first child. One has to be careful, wouldn't you agree, Claudia?”

Even though I was already done with Tristram, Lois's words cut straight through me.

My hand drifted to my hollow stomach. My eyes burned.

“Oh, and the housekeeper's been on leave. Since you already have experience taking care of your mother, I figured there was no need to hire anyone new. You can handle Lois's daily needs while you're here.”

Tristram said this as he stood, one arm around Lois's waist.

Lois stroked her belly, smiling with undisguised satisfaction:

“I'll be counting on you, then. Sorry for the trouble, Claudia.”

I lowered my gaze and drew a long, slow breath.

It was fine. I just had to get through this. Once it was over, everything would be over. I repeated it to myself like a prayer.

“Fine.”

I forced the corners of my mouth upward and agreed.

Tristram looked at me with a flicker of surprise, but it vanished quickly, replaced by that polished smile of his.

“Claudia, you're smarter than I gave you credit for. You know I'm the only one you have left, so you do as you're told.”

He was so confident that my obedience came from having no one else to turn to.

He had no idea I already had plans of my own.

I didn't argue. I just turned and walked toward the guest room.

Tristram watched me go, and something hollow settled in his chest that he couldn't quite name.

He wanted to ask if I'd eaten. The words never made it past his lips.

He yanked at his tie, irritated. Beside him, Lois pressed close and pouted:

“Honey, once I have the baby, you really won't want me anymore?”

Tristram looked at her, all heavy-lidded eyes and soft provocation, and pulled her in by the waist:

“Don't be ridiculous. She's a woman who can't even bear children. How could she ever compare to you, you little temptress?”

“I only keep her around because I owe her mother. Think of it as getting you a free maid. Doesn't that make you happy?”

A flash of jealousy cut through Lois's eyes, but she buried it fast and slipped back into that coy, flirtatious mask:

“Of course I'm happy. I always knew my husband was the best.”

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

That was all it took. Tristram swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom.

That night, I lay in the guest room listening to the sounds seeping through the wall, and I pulled the blanket tight around myself.

But those sounds had a way of cutting through fabric, through walls, straight into my chest.

I couldn't breathe. I threw the blanket off, grabbed my phone, and sent a message to a number saved without a name:

“How much longer?”

The reply came almost immediately:

“One week.”

I stared at the message. A moment later, a low, heavy groan came from Tristram's room next door, and the sounds finally stopped.

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