Did You Chip a Nail

My husband’s mistress thought I was his secret lover.

"I’ll send you and your bastard to hell!" she screamed as her fists flew.

She left me bleeding on the floor, my face ruined, my baby gone.

Through the pain, I heard my husband on the phone.

He was soothing her.

“My poor baby, are you hurt? Did you chip a nail?”

But when he realized the “bitch” his mistress had destroyed was me.

He shattered.

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1

I was at a private party in a luxury boutique on Rodeo Drive when a group of women cornered me.

Leading the pack was a familiar face: Tiffany Reed, my husband Caleb Knight's newly announced girlfriend.

"There's the little gold digger," Tiffany’s voice sliced through the party's ambient music. "Let's go teach her a lesson."

Before I could react, a stinging slap landed hard across my face.

Tiffany crossed her arms, looking down at me with a disdainful smirk.

"You're Estelle Prescott, aren't you?" she sneered. "You know Caleb's mine, yet you still insist on hovering around him?"

"Don't waste your breath, Tiffany," one of her lackeys jeered.

"Everyone hates trash like her. We'll make sure she never dares to show her face at one of these parties again."

I instinctively shielded my stomach, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Wait, I'm pregnant," I stammered. "Are you really going to—?"

But Tiffany's face turned to ice, her eyes flashing with contempt.

"Pregnant? You dare carry his child? Is that why Caleb wants to leave me? Because of you and this bastard?"

I shook my head, desperate to explain.

"No, you're the other woman! I'm his—"

My words were cut off by a sharp kick to my stomach.

A searing pain ripped through my abdomen, stealing my breath as a cold sweat broke out across my skin.

Her minions landed a few more kicks.

I swayed, dizzy with pain, my arms wrapped tight around my belly, terrified of what they were doing to my baby.

Tiffany grabbed my hair and slammed my head against a nearby glass display case.

I felt something warm and sticky trickle down my face. Blood. Mixed with sweat and tears.

Through the haze of pain, I saw Tiffany make a call.

She put it on speaker, a triumphant smirk on her face that made my stomach churn.

"Hey, what's up?" Caleb’s warm, unsuspecting voice drifted from the speaker.

Tiffany giggled, her voice sickly sweet.

"Would you be mad if I taught a lesson to that little psycho who keeps stalking you?"

He chuckled softly, indulging her.

"If you're going to teach someone a lesson, at least let security handle it," he replied.

"Did you chip a nail?"