I Dropped My Pregnancy Test, He Cradled His Mistress

Moonlight streamed into the room, carrying with it the faint trace of Dakota’s perfume through the crack of the door.

She stood in the doorway, which had been locked just hours ago, holding a small night lamp in her hand. The soft glow illuminated her face, her smile curving like that of a venomous snake.

“Wow. You’re still awake? Can’t sleep because the dog scared you?”

She shook the pregnancy test report in her hand as if it were a trophy. “I have good news for you,” she said with deliberate sweetness. “I’m pregnant—with Gifford’s child.”

Her smile widened as she admitted, “Actually, even back when you married him, he and I were already together.”

I shrank back into the corner. The dog had already been taken away, but the red welts on my body still burned. The pain in my lower abdomen came in waves, growing sharper each time until I could barely breathe.

“Bitch,” she continued, her voice dripping with scorn. “Did you really think you had all of his love?”

“You’re so damn funny,” she sneered. “That man you’ve been guarding so faithfully all these years—he’s been mine from the very beginning.”

“There’s something else you should know,” she added, shifting into a quieter and almost playful tone. She crouched down to my level, her voice lowering as if she were about to share a story.

“Your first child didn’t die because I opened the window that night and let in the cold air.”

In an instant, my blood froze.

“That night,” she said slowly, savoring each word, “I took him out myself—and threw him straight into the snow in the yard.”

She licked her lips, her eyes gleaming with twisted excitement. “He was so small—just a tiny bundle turning purple from the cold. I didn’t bring him back inside until the next morning. The whole time, he didn’t even cry or make any noise. Tell me, wasn’t he such a well-behaved little boy?”

“You…” My lips trembled as I bit down hard, tasting blood in my mouth.

After losing him, I had spent three long years torturing myself with guilt, believing it was my own carelessness that caused his death!

Dakota smiled like a devil. “You thought it was just a cruel winter that stole him away. But it was me. I was the one who sent your baby to hell.”

“Every ounce of guilt and self-torment you’ve carried these three years?” It’s all been a joke!”

Her laugh filled the room. Hatred coiled through my bones like poison, squeezing the air from my lungs. Seeing me collapse only made her laugh louder.

And then, she went berserk. “How dare you appear in the picture and steal Gifford from me?! Everything that happened to you? You deserved it!"

The next second, her voice lowered. “Enjoy my little secret while you can… because the next one going to hell… will be you.”

With that, the psycho turned and left, leaving me struggling in the dark.

I wanted to lunge at her and tear her apart with my bare hands, but my body refused to move. I could only watch her retreat, her victory-laced smile disappearing beyond the door.

A tearing pain ripped through my belly, and warm liquid trickled down my thighs. I knew, in that instant, that the baby inside me—the one who had barely arrived—was gone.

By dawn, the locked door finally creaked open.

Gifford stepped in, his gaze briefly flickering to the blood on the floor. For just a split second, something like pity flashed in his eyes.

“You’re on your period,” he muttered, frowning. “Why didn’t you say something instead of making a mess like this?”

He tossed a clean towel toward me, his tone softening slightly. “Come on, clean yourself up—”

Before he could finish, Dakota’s voice floated in from the doorway. She was holding her waist, her face painted with delicate fragility.

“Gifford,” she called sweetly, “I have an early prenatal checkup today. Why don’t you ask her to prepare something nutritious for me and bring it to the hospital? It’ll be a good chance to see if she’s really changed, and if she can behave properly with us now.”

Gifford hesitated. His eyes flicked between us, guilt shadowing his expression.

“Oh my, that’s a lot of blood,” Dakota said suddenly, widening her eyes in mock concern. “Austria, I came by last night and even brought you some sanitary pads. Why didn’t you use them?”

Then, as if struck by realization, she gasped. “Wait… you didn’t do this just to get Gifford’s sympathy, did you?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, pretending she’d said too much.

“Austria! You almost fooled me!” Gifford snapped, his face darkening. “Did you hear what she said? Go to the kitchen, make a nutritious meal, and bring it to the hospital, third floor.”

I stared at his back as he turned to leave with her. Then, for the first time in a long while, I laughed.

“Gifford,” I muttered, “you didn’t even ask where all this blood came from. You just assumed I was trying to win your pity. How ridiculous.”

He didn’t know it yet, but today would be the last time he ever saw me.

Slowly, I pushed myself up, steadying against the wall. I didn’t go to the kitchen. I didn’t go to the hospital. Instead, I took a shower, changed into clean clothes, and sat quietly for a moment.

Today was the day Devon had promised to come and take me away.

Before I left, I prepared three parting gifts for Gifford.

One was my pregnancy report.

One was our divorce agreement.

And the last was a voice recorder—containing every word Dakota had said to me last night.

In the mirror, my reflection looked ghostly pale, but in my eyes burned a small yet steady flame.

“Gifford. Dakota. For the five years you stole from me—for the lives of my two children—I’ll make sure you pay it all back… with interest,” I swore.