When My Fiancé Begged After Marrying His Pregnant Mistress

It was our seventh anniversary.

I woke up early, curled my hair, and put on a tailored cream dress. Today was the day. Leon and I were finally going to the NYC City Clerk’s office to file our marriage license. After seven years of waiting and supporting him, it was finally happening. My heart felt light as I walked down Worth Street.

I got to the building twenty minutes early. I wanted to surprise him. I pushed through the heavy glass doors and stepped into the lobby.

The room was busy, but I spotted him right away. Leon stood at the front counter in his gray suit. He held a black pen, leaning over a stack of forms.

Beside him stood Wrenley Tucker.

Wrenley was his adopted sister. She wore a soft pink wrap dress. One of her hands rested gently over a rounded, unmistakable baby bump.

Leon dipped his head and whispered something in her ear. She giggled. Then, Leon pressed the pen to the paper and signed the marriage license.

The air left my lungs.

My feet moved before my brain could stop them. My heels clicked hard against the marble floor.

"Leon?" My voice cracked.

He froze. He turned his head slowly. I looked for guilt or shame on his face. I didn't find any. His eyes flashed with quick irritation, then went cold.

Beside him, Wrenley didn’t flinch. Her lips curved into a tiny, smug smile. She stroked her stomach again.

"What are you doing?" I asked. My chest burned. "What is this?"

"Ellie, stop," Leon said in a low, tight voice. "Don't make a scene here."

"A scene?" I reached for the paperwork on the desk. "You're marrying her? She's having your baby?"

"Back off!" Leon snapped.

I took another step forward. Leon’s face twisted into pure contempt. He shoved his hands hard against my shoulders.

The force threw me backward. My heels slipped on the slick stone. I didn't even have time to put my hands out.

My head hit the marble floor with a sickening crack.

A flash of bright white exploded behind my eyes. Then someone screamed. Sirens wailed far away. Then everything went black.

***

The smell of rubbing alcohol woke me up.

A steady beep echoed in my ears. I opened my eyes and blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights.

A middle-aged woman in a white coat stood beside my bed. Her badge read *Dr. Patricia Owens, Neurology*.

"Ellie?" she said gently. "Can you hear me?"

My head pounded with a dull, throbbing ache. "Yes. Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. You took a hard fall and suffered a severe concussion." She held up a small penlight. "Can you tell me your age, Ellie?"

I looked at her like she was crazy. "I'm twenty-five."

Dr. Owens lowered the light. Her eyes softened with deep concern. She asked me the year. I gave it to her—ten years in the past. She asked where I worked. I named the boutique design firm I had interned for right out of college.

I had no idea who rented my condo. I had no idea about seven years of my life. In my head, I was twenty-five years old, young, rich, and totally free.

The door flew open.

A man rushed in. He held a big bouquet of pink peonies. His tie was loose. Real tears ran down his cheeks.

"Ellie! Oh god, Ellie!"

He dropped to his knees by my bed. He reached out to grab my hand with trembling fingers.

I yanked my arm back like I had touched a hot stove.

I knew that face. It was Leon Spencer. The annoying, sleazy guy who had been chasing me for months. He had cornered me at parties. He kept sending flowers to my office even after I told him no. I found him slimy and transparent. He only wanted my father’s money.

"Don't touch me," I snapped.

Leon blinked, startled. He tried to force a heartbreaking smile. "Ellie, please... I know you're furious. I was so scared. I thought I lost you."

"Get away from me," I said, cold and clear. I kicked my foot under the sheet, shoving his arm off the mattress. "Why are you here? Who let you in?"

Leon’s jaw slacked. He stood up slowly, looking bewildered. But then his eyes darted around, calculating. He rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a rough sob.

He slipped right into his usual act.

"Ellie, listen to me," he begged. His voice shook with practiced emotion. "What you saw at City Hall... it isn't what you think. Wrenley tricked me."

I stared at him.

"She slipped something into my drink at a party two months ago," Leon cried. He wiped a tear with his sleeve. "I wasn't in my right mind. She seduced me, Ellie. She set me up! I'm the victim here. She threatened to tell the press and ruin my job if I didn't give the baby a legal name. I only signed those papers to protect us!"

He leaned over the guardrail, his breath warm on my face. "Please, baby. Forgive me. Stay with me. I'll handle Wrenley quietly. We can fix this."

The room was dead silent, save for the heart monitor.

I looked at his tear-streaked face. I looked at his expensive suit, bought with money he never earned. I felt zero pain. Zero heartbreak. Just a clean, icy wave of disgust.

"Leon," I said. My voice was quiet, even, and totally empty.

He leaned closer, hopeful. "Yes, honey?"

"I don't care."

His fake tears froze on his cheeks. "What?"

"I don't care about your excuse. I don't care about your tears." I looked him dead in the eye. "And I don't care about you. Get out of my room."