My CEO Husband Chose His Pregnant Mistress and Cast Me Aside

Mark’s POV

[Tomorrow at 10 AM, Nina has her prenatal check-up. You’ll go with her. Get your annual health screening while you’re at it.]

There was no reply. Not that I expected one. I didn’t know it at the time, but Clara had already removed her SIM card, powered down her phone, and disappeared completely. Just like that, she had vanished from my world, leaving me with the unmistakable finality of a door slammed shut—one that might never open again.

---

The next morning, the private clinic hummed quietly, the soft scent of antiseptic mixing with the faint aroma of fresh flowers. Nina clung to my arm as if I were her only anchor.

“Mark, is the baby okay?” she whispered, panic threading through her voice.

I kept my tone calm, steady. “The doctor said the baby’s fine. No complications from the incident at the estate.”

Relief flooded her features. “Thank the stars. You’ve been so quiet since we arrived. I was worried something went wrong.”

Something had.

I couldn’t shake the image of Clara from my mind—the way she had looked at me amid the chaos, not pleading, not begging, just quiet and resigned, as if she already knew I wouldn’t come for her. And the cruelest truth? She was right. I hadn’t carried her out. I had carried Nina.

---

After lunch with Nina, I dropped her off at the Sterling estate and went straight to the council hall.

That’s when my assistant caught up with me.

“Mr. Mark, Mr. Kirkland has returned from Europe. He’s requested a full executive briefing with the board.”

I nodded, continuing my stride, but beneath the practiced calm, something sharp twisted in my chest. Clara was nowhere to be found. She hadn’t gone to the clinic. She hadn’t returned to the estate. None of the staff had seen her leave. No one had any idea where she could be. She had vanished completely—and I had no clue when or how she had slipped out of my life.

Where the hell had she gone?

I quickened my pace, then spoke over my shoulder to my assistant. “Send someone to retrieve a few of the newest designer handbags and that custom jewelry set.”

“For Nina?”

I paused, teeth clenched. “Send it to the Sterling estate.”

If Clara was anywhere, that would be her destination.

And if she wasn’t?

I didn’t want to finish the thought. My chest tightened, unease gnawing at me relentlessly.

What if she was hurt? Still recovering somewhere, alone?

What if she’d truly left for good?

---

A week later, just past midnight, I returned home, bone-deep exhausted after a marathon strategy session. The estate was silent, moonlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows.

A soft figure curled on the couch caught my eye, swathed in silk, as though a memory had been left behind in my absence.

I exhaled, a low chuckle escaping me. “Clara… I told you. Once I’m done with work, I always come back. You don’t need to—”

I stopped mid-sentence.

It wasn’t Clara.

Nina’s face fell as she looked up at me, a hint of fear in her wide eyes. “Mark… she hasn’t returned. Not once. I’ve sent her so many messages—apologies, explanations—nothing. Maybe I should leave… I don’t know what else to do.” She sniffled, on the verge of tears.

I let out a long breath and lowered myself beside her, pressing a hand to her forehead. Not tenderness, not affection—more routine than anything—but it offered reassurance. “Don’t overthink it. The baby needs stability. Calm surroundings. This… this is your home now. Yours and the baby’s. Whether Clara agrees or not.”

---

Later, I stood alone on the terrace, robe loosely tied around my shoulders, the city lights stretching endlessly before me. I lit a cigarette—something I hadn’t done in years—but tonight, I didn’t care. The craving wasn’t for nicotine; it was for the restless tension gnawing at me from inside.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled, fingers pausing over the last name at the very bottom of my contacts. Clara. I hovered over the call button, my chest tight with everything I wanted to say—but didn’t. In the end, I didn’t dial.

I sent a message instead.

[Clara, tomorrow is Mr. Kirkland’s 80th birthday. Don’t cause a scene. Keep your distance from Nina and the baby.]

I stared at the screen, chest constricting. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if it was the cold night air, or something else entirely. No. Not panic. Something sharper. Something heavier.