After Sterilizing Me, He Adopted His Mistress' Child

In the hospital room, the two of them embraced, exchanging words that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Did you get everything sorted? Is she on board?"

"She's going to the adoption agency tomorrow herself. I'm worried..."

"What are you worried about? Just bring the baby to her tomorrow, and I'll handle the rest."

"With you by my side, I feel at ease."

Sterling was peeling a pear for Cora, his skillful hands revealing his familiarity with such a task. I recalled when I was hospitalized before giving birth, my appetite was terrible, and all I craved was something sweet. I had asked him to peel a peach for me, but he turned me down without a second thought.

"The nurse is here to look after you. She can peel a peach for you."

Back then, I thought he simply wasn't interested in doing mundane tasks. But now I understood; it was just that I wasn't someone he'd willingly do them for.

"Oh Sterling, you have no idea how much I've missed you." Cora leaned against his chest, her fingers instinctively tracing the outline of his Adam's apple.

The air between them grew increasingly intense, and unable to hold back, Sterling kissed her deeply. They were in a slightly ajar hospital room, completely lost in each other's embrace.

I took out my phone and recorded a video of them together. I thought witnessing this would break me, but tears came first.

As their clothes became more disheveled, I couldn't stand it any longer and fled, overwhelmed by despair.

Sterling returned to my hospital room late at night. As usual, he kissed my forehead. He brought me some oatmeal, urging me to rest well; the concern in his eyes temporarily clouded my sense of reality. But remembering what he'd been doing earlier filled me with disgust.

His phone buzzed with a message, and his expression shifted.

"Did you cancel something?"

"The bank card and ID details expired, so I just canceled them instead of updating."

Hearing this, Sterling didn't press further. After tidying up, he lay down on the bed next to mine and fell asleep.

I took his phone, which was charging nearby. During our courtship, he had registered my fingerprint for my peace of mind. But now, it served as a reminder that it was no longer valid. He had deleted it long ago.

Finally, I used Cora's birthday to unlock the phone. How confident he must have been that I wouldn't check, setting such an obvious password.

I found no concrete evidence, assuming they had been cautious enough, perhaps meeting face-to-face. But I accidentally opened Twitter. Sterling’s main page was an alias I had never seen.

The account had been active for three years, filled with posts lamenting over his lost love—coinciding with when we met. On Cora's wedding day, he posted a video of himself drinking heavily, with empathetic comments below.

Two years ago, the updates transitioned to his daily life with Cora, just as I was joyfully planning our wedding.

Sterling had never missed Cora's birthday parties, yet sent me the same uninspired gifts via his assistant. He traveled with her, always dismissing my requests due to "work." He eagerly anticipated their child, yet continuously missed my prenatal appointments.

Reading post after post, I felt as if my heart was being torn apart—overwhelming sadness stifled my voice, preventing me from waking Sterling. I could only smother my sobs with my hands.

Putting the phone down, tears silently soaked into my pillow.