My CEO Husband Chose His Pregnant Mistress and Cast Me Aside

Clara’s POV

When we arrived at the estate, he guided his nauseated, morning-sick mistress up to the master suite, his hand firm on her lower back. He instructed the chef to prepare her favorite dishes, then lingered in the doorway for a moment as if savoring her approval.

On his way back downstairs, he caught sight of me trudging toward the guest wing, dragging my suitcase behind me like it contained everything I had left in the world.

He paused mid-step and muttered over his shoulder to the chef, “Prepare two more plates—the ones Clara likes. Set three places.”

That snapped my attention. Did I imagine it, or was that the faintest hint of regret? A pathetic attempt to show he cared, even just enough to set a table for me while his mistress rested in our bedroom?

I didn’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity or scream at the nerve. He couldn’t even remember the exact day we met, yet now he expected the chef to prepare my favorite roasted lamb with rosemary as if a dish could erase betrayal.

I clenched my teeth, said nothing, and kept moving.

The guest room door closed quietly behind me, the click of the lock sounding heavier than any insult. The silence was suffocating, as if the walls themselves acknowledged I didn’t belong here anymore.

I set my bag on the edge of the bed and knelt to unzip it. The moment the zipper slid open, my stomach dropped.

Every single item of clothing—torn. Shredded into neat, deliberate strips. Whoever did this wanted to make a statement. My heart sank.

Then I noticed what remained: tucked deep in the lining, my passport, my plane tickets, and every other document I couldn’t afford to lose. Untouched. Protected.

I sat back for a moment, stunned, anger and disbelief warring for dominance. And of course, I didn’t have to guess who was responsible. Nina. Only she would be petty enough to mutilate my belongings while leaving the things that mattered most. But there was no time for confrontation—not yet. I had to focus on leaving this place in one piece.

I crouched by the bed, shoving the remaining salvageable items into my bag, when the door creaked open behind me.

Nina appeared, one hand dangling a small black bottle. Her eyes swept the room as if she were critiquing an art gallery, nose wrinkling like she had just smelled something offensive. Then her gaze landed on me—and if looks could kill, I’d already be nothing but ash.

“Well, Clara,” she purred, tilting her head with that fake sweetness that always made my skin crawl, “you really are something. After everything I’ve humiliated you with in front of every socialite, every investor, every influential person in the city, you still cling to this place like it’s your lifeline.”

Her voice dripped mockery.

“Oh, right. Your grandmother passed last month, didn’t she? Now that your only family is gone, I suppose it makes sense. You’re desperate, clinging to Mark like he’s the only anchor left in your life.”

Then she giggled. Light, cruel, infuriating.

“Remember how you begged him to fly you out to see her one last time? You want to know why he didn’t?”

She waved her phone like a weapon.

“Because he promised to take me to the coast that day. We watched the sunset together. That kiss photo? That’s when it was taken.”

Her words sank into me slowly, spreading like cracks across glass. The more I processed, the hotter my blood became.

She had done this deliberately. She had known. She had flaunted that photo, reminded me of the helicopter, reminded me of the one day I’d fallen to my knees, begging him to let me see my grandmother one last time. And he had chosen her.

The weight of it pressed down on me, jaw tightening, fists clenching at my sides. My control snapped.

“You think this is funny?” I hissed, voice low and sharp. “You think destroying what little I have left makes you something? Like you could ever be his equal?”

Nina raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a predatory smile. “I don’t need to be his equal. I already have everything.”

“You have nothing,” I spat back, teeth bared. “You’re a parasite. A leech sucking scraps from his life, from mine!”