He Married His Mistress While I Miscarried, Then Found Out I'm an Heiress

“That woman is rotten to the core!”

“She’s on her knees and still pulling tricks—has she no shame at all?”

Zane moved almost on instinct.

He shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the floor.

“Crystal Donaldson, you are beyond saving!”

Then he turned, bent down, and scooped Cara into his arms, his voice gone unbearably tender.

“Don’t be scared, Cara. I’ll take you to the doctor. The baby will be fine.”

My back and stomach slammed against the public hospital bench, and pain ripped through me until my whole body shook.

Something deep in my battered abdomen felt like it was dragging downward.

The cramps came in waves, like a dull blade twisting inside me.

In that instant, panic clamped around my heart.

Trembling, I reached up and clutched at the hem of Zane’s trousers.

“Zane… my stomach hurts… it hurts so much…”

He glanced down at me, his eyes full of disgust.

“Stop faking. A stomachache won’t kill you. Don’t embarrass yourself here.”

Cold sweat poured out of me, soaking through every layer of my clothes in seconds. I curled on the floor, hands pressed to my belly, forcing the words out.

“It’s not my stomach… it’s lower…”

Zane looked down on me from his full height, one corner of his mouth lifting into an icy sneer dripping with contempt.

“Watching someone else get pregnant, are you jealous? Want to put on a show and beg for sympathy too?”

“All these years, with that useless body of yours, did you ever once carry a child?”

Every word was a poisoned needle, driving straight into my deepest wound.

Some people you should never have hoped for, not from the very start.

Clinging to my last shred of strength, I fumbled for my phone, desperate to call my father.

I wanted to go home.

I had to get out of here, right now.

Cara nestled against him, the picture of selfless concern for Zane, and laid the blame on me.

“Do you have to make a scene in front of everyone and humiliate Zane?”

Those words lit the fuse on his fury.

He stepped forward, ripped the phone from my hand, threw it to the floor, and ground it under his heel until it shattered.

Nothing left in his eyes but pure revulsion.

“Crystal Donaldson! Haven’t you had enough?”

The nurse on duty noticed how bad I looked and realized something was wrong.

She hurried over, trying to lift me and get me to the emergency room.

But Zane blocked her.

“Leave her.”

“It’s a bad habit we’ve spoiled into her.”

“Let her sit in that room and reflect on how vicious she is!”

The nurse hesitated. “But she really doesn’t look well.”

Zane simply called in his connections at the hospital, his face cold as he leaned on them.

He gave an explicit order: no staff was to treat me.

Then he turned and carried Cara into the VIP room.

Three hours later, after he’d stayed by her side through a full examination and confirmed Cara was perfectly fine—

he finally remembered to come check on me.

Zane stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame.

He let out a sigh, as if making some great concession.

“Cara’s young, she can’t handle being upset. Getting the marriage certificate was just to put her at ease—it’s only a piece of paper.”

“You’ve been with me all these years. So what if there’s no paper? You should know you matter most to me.”

“Stop making trouble. I bought you a ticket to the Maldives. Go clear your head.”

“And when your dad comes to Harborton, he can work at the company too. I’ll arrange a job for him as a security guard.”

But no one in the room answered him. There wasn’t even the sound of breathing.

Zane frowned, sensing something was off.

He crossed to the bedside in two quick strides and yanked back the blanket.

Zane froze.

The vast spread of crimson stung his eyes until they ached.