I Asked For Divorce When His Mistress Returned

Beside me, Leilani Olson—hair a mess—fixed her eyes on me and mouthed something I could barely catch: “You should be the one taking care of him.”

The ambulance came and rushed me to the hospital.

In the OR, I lay trembling on the table and begged the medical team, “Please—save my baby!”

“Don’t worry, Adele. I’ll make sure you and the baby are safe,” Tyler Daniels assured me, though I could hear the strain in his voice.

As the anesthesia pulled me under, everything went black.

When I came to, I was in a hospital room. My eyes found Tyler’s worried gaze.

“Tyler, how’s my baby?” I asked weakly, ignoring the ache in my body.

His expression turned serious.

I touched my stomach and felt an unsettling emptiness.

Tears filled my eyes. I tried to push myself up, but Tyler gently eased me back, patting my shoulder. “Don’t move. You’re weak after delivery—you need to rest.”

Delivered? Already?

“My baby…”

“He was born early. He’s in the ICU,” Tyler explained. He confirmed I had a son, then added gently, “The specialists are consulting. There’s still hope.”

A baby born at twenty-eight weeks faces a tough fight.

I opened my mouth, but no words came. I sat there numb, tears streaming down my cheeks.

I nodded without thinking. “Can I at least see him?” I asked Tyler. “I know I can’t go in, but can I look from outside?”

He gave me a helpless look, sighed, and helped me to the ICU.

I pressed my forehead against the glass door and stared at the tiny figure inside the incubator. Tubes covered him. His little face was twisted in discomfort.

I never imagined our first meeting would be like this.

Was he in pain?

“Is crying all you can do?” My mother’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

My parents had rushed to the hospital. My mother gripped my arm hard enough to hurt. “You couldn’t even protect your own child. I’m so disappointed in you!”

I bit my lip and endured her grip in silence, my eyes glued to my fragile son.

He was so small. I was afraid every moment might be our last together.

My father pulled her away.

“Adele, what happened?” he asked, his voice weary.

Tyler cut in gently. “Mr. Tucker, Adele is still very weak. It’s best to wait until she’s recovered before asking questions.”

With that, Tyler tried to walk me back to my room.

But another hand caught my waist, and Carlos Richards’s deep voice rumbled above me. “I’ll take her back.”

Tyler’s hand hovered awkwardly in midair.

I looked up into Carlos’s familiar, handsome face, momentarily dazed. “Carlos… is that you?”

“Yes,” he said, frowning down into my eyes. His grip on my waist tightened a fraction as he led me past my parents. In a cool tone, he told them, “I’ll take care of your daughter.”

I let Carlos guide me back to the hospital bed.

“Get some rest,” he said, barely sparing me a glance before turning to leave.

“Are you disappointed?” My voice was hoarse as I watched his retreating back.

Our son had been born prematurely, and his fate was uncertain.

If we lost this child, all of Carlos’s plans would collapse.

Carlos paused but didn’t turn around. “The child will survive.”

His words ignited something hot and angry in my chest. Did he think money could fix everything? Or did he simply not care whether our child lived or died?

“What if our son doesn’t make it?” I asked.

“There’s no such possibility,” he said, with chilling certainty.

“Even if our son dies, you’d still protect Leilani, wouldn’t you?” I let out a bitter laugh, my voice raw.

In Carlos’s heart, was everyone besides Leilani expendable?

“I told you—there’s no such possibility!”

He turned suddenly and stalked back to me, his dark eyes blazing with an anger that matched my own.

For just a moment, I caught a glimpse of his pain, too.

Carlos’s tall figure loomed over me, his brow deeply furrowed, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

His unreadable gaze lingered on me before he said coldly, “If you died, I wouldn’t mind finding another mother for him.”

A chill ran through me as I watched him walk away, my heart sinking into a cold, dark abyss.

No one was going to take my child from me.

I realized that to protect my son, I had to recover—fast.

That evening, when the nurse brought in a nourishing meal of spiced honey cake and pulled pork, I ate every bite. I cooperated fully with the nurses through every treatment and dose of medication.

Within a few days, my strength came back noticeably.

After a routine checkup, Tyler smiled approvingly. “You’re recovering well.”

I smiled faintly. “When can I be discharged?”

“A few more days under observation,” Tyler replied, setting aside his report with a warm smile. “But I have news about your son.”

My whole body went tense. “What about my baby?”

“Don’t worry—it’s good news. His latest tests show his vital signs are stabilizing, and his organs are developing well,” Tyler explained. All I heard was that my son was going to make it.

Joy flooded through me. I sat up too fast, desperate to see my little one.

Trying to get up and get dressed, I stumbled.

Tyler caught me and pulled me against him, his grip steady. “Careful.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured him with a smile, steadying myself as a cold wave crept up my spine.

I turned instinctively—and met Carlos’s deep, brooding eyes.

When had he arrived?

I froze. Tyler followed my gaze to Carlos.

Realizing the scene might look too intimate, I didn’t want Tyler dragged into any misunderstanding.

“I lost my balance, and Tyler caught me just in time,” I explained.

As I spoke, I glanced at Carlos. His eyes had narrowed into an unreadable expression.

“I need to finish my rounds. I’ll check on you later,” Tyler said softly, nodding at Carlos before leaving.

After Tyler left, Carlos stayed rooted in the doorway.

My joy for my son overshadowed any curiosity about what Carlos was thinking.

I walked toward him, unable to hide my happiness. “Do you want to see our son together?” I asked softly.

Carlos let out a dry chuckle, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re in such a hurry to divorce me—and it’s all because of him.”

I hadn’t expected him to misunderstand—or to refuse me a chance to explain.

Months of pent-up frustration surged up inside me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

“If we’re divorcing, then please, Mr. Richards, stay out of my affairs!” I retorted, brushing past him defiantly.

His hand shot out and seized my wrist. He pinned me against the door, his expression severe. “Do you have a death wish, Adele?”