Behind the Betrayal: When I Found Out He Was Cheating

The revulsion in my gaze was a sharp blade, lodging deep within Scott's chest.

His face contorted with rage as he slammed the divorce agreement onto the table and signed.

His knuckles turned white due to the force.

"Yvonne, don't you dare regret this. And don't you go running to my dad after, badmouthing me as if I've failed you..."

"Good!"

I longed to reveal the truth to him that the woman he believed had borne his child was merely playing him for a fool and that his father had died with the regret of having such an ungrateful son.

Scott was taken aback. He had expected my plea, but instead, he was met with my unwavering response.

Therefore, he had no way to vent his anger.

His eyes narrowed to scan me.

"Every man dream of being a father.

"Are you so determined to divorce me because you have regained your fertility? Are you pregnant?"

My heart skipped a beat. I wondered what would happen if Scott knew I could bear children.

After eight years of marriage, I was resigned to our childless fate due to his condition.

Just last week, the pregnancy test had revealed two lines, a stark contrast to the single line I had grown accustomed to. I had rushed to the hospital for confirmation.

Paul was overjoyed and had sought out Scott, hoping to mend our broken union and sever his ties with Stella.

But fate had dealt a cruel hand. The morning's rain had left the ground treacherously slick, and Paul had slipped outside the very hotel where Scott was entangled with his mistress.

By the time I reached the hospital, Paul was beyond saving.

However, Scott, lost in his own world with his lover, had ignored my frantic calls.

"Since you want a divorce, this child is just a burden meant to tie me down. Go to the hospital and abort it immediately!"

Scott's words were daggers, each one piercing deeper than the last.

My heart bled, torn asunder by his cruelty.

I stared at him with cold indifference. Little did I know why he dared to believe I would threaten him with my child.

"Don't worry. Even if I carry this child, I will terminate it. After all, Paul's final wish was that I not be entangled with you for the rest of my life."

Scott's rage boiled over, his hand sweeping a water cup onto the carpet.

"Shut up! My dad was good to you. How dare you use him as a shield and curse him like an ingrate!

"You dare to hurl insults so freely. It seems orphans are indeed uneducated!"

My heart ached. Despite my years of education and refinement, I found myself utterly unable to suppress the tempest of fury that raged within me.

I hit Scott with a resounding slap.

"I'm doing this for your father! What he regretted most was having a son like you!"

Scott's shock quickly morphed into a fierce glare.

I met his gaze unflinchingly.

I raised my hand once more to deliver him another stinging blow.

I had once been the premier female action actress at the Grand Theater.

Scott's swollen face was a testament to my strength.

His eyes burned red with a fury.

"Yvonne, after our eight-year marriage, do you truly believe I am a man of patience?"

I responded with a cool detachment.

"This final slap is on behalf of my parents," I declared.

At these words, his body trembled, and the anger that had contorted his features melted away into a sudden realization.

A torrential downpour had claimed the lives of my parents as they valiantly attempted to rescue Scott's family from the raging floodwaters.

Therefore, I had become an orphan, adopted by Paul as his own daughter.

"Scott, I owe you nothing," I stated plainly.

A flicker of panic and regret crossed his eyes.

"Yvonne, I shouldn't have spoken as I did just now..."

"I'll finalize the paperwork of our divorce tomorrow. After that, I'll pack up and leave," I cut him off, my tone leaving no room for argument.

He grasped my hand, desperation creeping into his voice. "If you move out, what about my dad?"

Paul had once promised that if my marriage with Scott reached its end, he would live out his days with me.

He cast aside any notion of a son named Scott.

The thought of this only fueled my disgust, and I yanked my hand free.

"I've already made arrangements for your father, so you needn't concern yourself," I replied.

Scott's countenance darkened.

"Have you been taking care of him? Did you say something to him that made him cut me off for so many days?"

Scott had lost his mother at a young age, so he had been raised by Paul, who loved him unconditionally.

However, Scott childishly forsook his aged father for the allure of forbidden love, indifferent to the world that crumbled around him.

How dare he blame his father for not catering to his needs?

It sickened me to the core, churning my stomach with disgust.

"You don't deserve to mention Paul!"

My grip tightened on the phone, my mind swirling with questions.

Why had he blocked my calls? Did he not realize that Paul yearned to hear his voice one last time before departing this world?

Even if his surgical prowess couldn't save Paul, a mere answer to the phone would have eased Paul's passage.

Yet, Scott remained in denial, refusing to accept the grim reality of his father's death, much like he refused to acknowledge the betrayal of Stella.

The sharp pain in my abdomen reminded me that I couldn't afford to linger in this toxic exchange any longer.

"I'll see you at 8 o'clock tomorrow for our divorce," I declared.

"You've even checked the time? Are you that eager?"

Scott sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I couldn't fathom his behavior. The divorce agreement was signed, yet he seemed to cling to some misplaced hope.

"When I think about never having to see you again, I really don't want to wait even a second longer."

I confessed calmly.

Scott's anger flared once more.

"Yvonne, you're so arrogant now, but you'll regret it later!"

I didn't respond, and my eyes were fixed on the time displayed on my phone.

It was still early enough to make it to the hospital for a check-up.

Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, but Scott lunged forward, grabbing my bag in a desperate attempt to stop me.

During the struggle, a hospital certificate slipped from my bag and fluttered to the ground.

I quickly retrieved it.

But Scott's curiosity was piqued.

"Let me see what you're hiding!"

"It's nothing serious," I replied.

Scott's skepticism grew. He swiftly reached out and seized the document from my grasp.

His eyes scanned the pregnancy test report, the words "biochemical pregnancy" and "spontaneous abortion" leaping out at him.

His expression morphed from disbelief to a pained realization.

"Yvonne, have you regained your fertility?