He Begged Me To Cure His Secret Son

After she ended the call, Ophelia McDonald reached into her bag and pulled out an ultrasound report. She ripped it to shreds and tossed it in the trash. It was supposed to be an anniversary surprise for Adam Jackson—news that she was more than three months pregnant. Instead, it would stay her secret.

When she got home, a storm raged outside. She lay on her bed, lulled by the rhythm of the rain, and soon dozed off. The mattress dipped beside her—Adam was home. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to be affectionate.

“Ophelia, you still upset? What I said at the hospital—that was only because you embarrassed me,” he murmured.

Ophelia stayed silent.

Adam sighed, impatience bleeding into his voice. “I didn’t tell you because they don’t mean anything to me. You’re the most important person in my life.”

She twisted out of his arms, her voice dripping with bitter irony. “Seven years ago, when I first met Sloane Russell in your office, her lipstick was smeared and her scarf was crooked. I pointed it out, thinking I was being helpful—but she’d just been with you, hadn’t she?”

“Five years ago, when I was in the hospital with a high fever, I called you. She answered. Said you were working late. That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“We’ve been married eight years, Adam, and that child is already six. Don’t I have every right to be angry?”

Adam went still, his gaze turning to ice. “When my mom found out Cairo was a boy, she pushed me to divorce you. I insisted on staying. That’s the only reason we’ve lasted this long, Ophelia. You should be grateful!”

He spoke with misplaced conviction, desperate to put his sacrifice center stage while burying his own sins.

Ophelia’s nails dug into her palms. Her last shred of hope shattered beyond repair.

When he saw her fighting back tears, Adam’s expression softened. A flicker of regret crossed his face. “Cairo will recover here with us. You’re an orthopedic doctor—you can take good care of him. Don’t let me down.”

Ophelia’s heart clenched, every emotion crushed under the weight of his words. Then a crash rang out downstairs. She left the bedroom to check.

In the living room stood a little boy and a woman. Cairo was beaming, his arm in a sling, standing over the shattered remains of a trophy cabinet—Ophelia’s past achievements reduced to broken shards. Sloane stood nearby, not lifting a finger to stop him.

Ophelia felt like she’d been struck by lightning. Rage surged through her, and she stormed downstairs. She shoved Cairo aside. He yelped and ran to Sloane, who instantly pulled him into a tearful hug.

“Adam, I knew we shouldn’t have come here. I can take the insults, but Cairo is your son. He’s hurt, and he’s just a little boy…” Sloane’s voice trembled as she comforted him.

Watching mother and son cry, Adam turned on Ophelia, irritation sharp in his eyes. “Why are you taking it out on a child? He doesn’t know any better—but you should.”

He led Cairo away to clean him up, leaving Ophelia alone, trembling among the ruins of her past.

Feigning kindness, Sloane crouched down to help Ophelia. In a whisper, she said, “You should treat Cairo better. When you grow old, how you live in this family will depend on him.”

When Ophelia ignored her, Sloane kept going, undeterred. “You probably don’t know how much Adam adores Cairo. After Cairo was born, Adam got a vasectomy. He didn’t want another child dividing his attention.”

Ophelia froze, her face draining of color as she stared at Sloane in disbelief.

“But he had it reversed recently,” Sloane added with a vindictive smile, “because we’re planning to give Cairo a sister.”

Ophelia’s heart turned to ice. The betrayal cut deep.

Sloane went on, her voice dripping with gleeful malice, “Now you know why you haven’t had children all these years. And with Adam so sick of you, you never will.”

“You’d better stay on our good side. Otherwise, I’ll have Cairo send you packing the second you’re no longer useful.”

Ophelia trembled with anger and pain. The lies, the treachery—it chilled her to the bone. Seeing Sloane’s smug face, she couldn’t hold back. She slapped her hard across the face.

The slap cracked through the room. Sloane hit the floor, a red mark blooming across her cheek.

Realizing what had happened, Sloane switched tactics in an instant. She crouched before Ophelia, her eyes welling with tears. “Please—if you just feed Cairo, I’ll leave. I’ll make him forget about me. Just don’t hurt him…”

The commotion brought Adam and Cairo back into the room. When Cairo saw Sloane kneeling and crying before Ophelia, he rushed to defend her, tiny fists and feet flying at Ophelia.

“Dad, she hit Mommy! You hit her too!” Cairo cried.

Stronger than a child his size had any right to be, every blow landed hard. Ophelia curled an arm around her stomach, casting a pleading glance at Adam.

“I hit her because she said—”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear it.” Adam cut her off, his tone cold and dismissive.

Ophelia’s heart skipped. His icy gaze was so foreign, so menacing. In eight years of marriage, she had never seen him look at her with such disdain.