Empty Promises, Full Pockets

This whole thing didn't make Cecelia back off. Nope. Instead, she sent me a friend request on social media.

I tapped her profile pic—a lazy cat lounging in some bougie villa room. Cute. Neil hated animals. Once, I suggested getting a cat to keep me company, but he shot it down, claiming he was "allergic." Now, with Cecelia? Guess all his so-called principles were out the window.

I accepted the request. Almost immediately, she slid into my DMs:

[Mrs. Schmidt, I'm not trying to break up your marriage. I just want to have this child. Life is precious.]

Wow. She couldn't wait to tell me she was pregnant, like she was doing charity work or something. I left her on read. A few minutes later, she messaged again:

[Mrs. Schmidt, I'm telling the truth!]

By then, I'd already saved all her posts and photos. Screenshots on lock.

Finally, I replied:

[What are you saying? You're pregnant? It's Neil's?]

The typing bubble popped up—blinked a few times—like she kept starting and stopping. Then:

[Sorry, I thought you knew.]

I shot back: [Don't play these petty games with me. Having the baby is your business. Whether Neil acknowledges it or not is his problem. It has nothing to do with me.]

She didn't reply.

***

I booked the abortion. Then I called Maya to get the divorce paperwork rolling.

Neil and I had always been that couple—the ones everyone pointed to as perfect. No clingy side chicks. No gold-digging wannabes. I really thought we were in this for love. I never expected him to hit me with such a brutal betrayal—one that created a whole life.

Maya Zane, my best friend and lawyer, nearly dropped her phone when I told her.

"Angela, did you hit your head, or did someone hex you?"

"He has someone else," I said flatly. "She's four months pregnant."

Maya lost it. "Where's my knife? That scumbag's got some nerve. I'll kill him myself."

I held up a hand. "Let it go. He's not worth it. I just want the money. He's the one at fault here."

She stared at me for a long second, then pulled me into a hug. "Angela, you don't have to hold it in. If you need to cry, cry. I've got you."

But the tears wouldn't come. My chest ached like someone had reached in, ripped something out, and left me hollow. When pain cuts that deep, you don't cry—you just feel the raw edges.

"Maya, I want a divorce. I want half of everything."

"Done. I'll handle it."

An hour later, I showed up at my parents' place with the divorce agreement.

When I told them about Neil and the baby, my dad's face went storm-cloud dark.

"Angela, do whatever you need to. We'll stand by you," he said, his voice firm.

"And as for... the child, that's your decision," Mom added softly.

I rested a hand on my stomach. A life had already started growing there.

If Neil hadn't been hiding his lies, we'd probably be celebrating this moment right now.

But I'd already made up my mind.

My parents respected my decision. They let me handle the divorce, but made it clear: if the Schmidt family started any drama, they'd step in.

After leaving their house, I headed to the hospital for a pre-procedure check-up. Just a few things I had to take care of first.

While waiting to pay, I spotted Rowina leading Cecelia into a VIP ward. My stomach turned, but before I could think it through, I followed.

"Cece, I've told you—Neil cares about you. Stop overthinking," Rowina's voice carried through the door. "He's not saying anything right now because we need to keep Angela calm. The Anne family is still working with us."

The words made me sick. I turned on my heel and stormed off.

At the end of the hallway, I ran straight into Neil.

The second he saw me, he froze. Panic flashed across his face. "Angela? What are you doing here? Are you not feeling well?"

He tried to look concerned, shifting from surprise to fake sympathy in record time.

I didn't say a word, just glanced at the pregnancy report he was holding. Neil's eyes darted to the paper, realizing what it looked like. "It's for an employee," he blurted. "She fell earlier and nearly miscarried. I brought her in for a check-up."

His voice softened. "And you?" he asked, careful now. "Why are you here?"