I Ruined My Husband's Reputation

He said gently, “Be safe on your way. Spend some time with your dad.”

Back home, I went straight to Dad’s study.

His tone was grave. He sounded frustrated and utterly disappointed.

“I told you from the start that man couldn’t be trusted, yet you foolishly insisted on marrying beneath yourself. Just look at what he’s done!”

I pressed my lips into a thin line and picked up the stack of documents on his desk. I flipped them open.

It stretched to one hundred and twenty pages. Each one documented Julian’s infidelity in detail.

In 2023, a month after my miscarriage and the removal of my uterus, he went on a so-called business trip and met Tessa. Within two hours of meeting her, he slept with her. He could not even wait until I was out of postpartum recovery.

In 2024, after I lost my child, I fell into depression. I was hospitalized for treatment and had to take strong meds in large doses. Julian used company training as an excuse, but in truth, he was traveling the world with Tessa.

In 2025, I finally recovered from depression. Julian gave me an emerald necklace, telling me it stood for luck and safety. Yet, the receipt before me clearly read “complimentary.” The real piece was around Tessa’s neck.

It felt like a void had split open in my chest, and a chill spread through it.

“Do you remember your… miscarriage?”

Dad’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“W-What about it?”

A sense of foreboding stirred within me.

Dad was silent. He slid a small recording toward me and pressed play.

A flattering male voice came through first. “Mr. Holt, are you really telling us to… deliberately get Miss Quinnell drunk?”

It was one of Julian’s business partners from three years ago.

The next voice was Julian’s. “Yes. If she gives birth, her father will invest everything into raising his grandchild. At that point, will there be anything left of the Quinnell family’s assets for me?”

My blood seemed to freeze solid in my veins.

It had been him. He had caused my miscarriage.

The recording continued.

“Mr. Holt, Miss Quinnell just had a miscarriage. Are you sure you want to sign the uterine donation consent form?”

Julian said without a moment’s hesitation, “Yes.”

The recording ended.

A heavy silence filled the study.

I stood frozen in place, unable to process what I had just heard.

The one who had destroyed my life, stolen my chance at motherhood, and pushed me into the depths of depression was the man I had once called my husband.

A violent surge of nausea hit me without warning.

I covered my mouth and rushed into the bathroom. I retched all over the toilet. Nothing came up. Only cold tears splattered against the white porcelain rim.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated.

It was a text from Julian.

[Darling, we’ve always had New Year’s Eve dinner at my family’s place. Why don’t you go to your dad’s this year instead? You can spend more time with Richard. I’ll be late, though. I can’t turn down a business partner.]

I read the message and sneered.

‘A business partner he could not refuse?’ I thought.

Most likely, he wanted to take his mistress to meet his family and did not want me there.

Another bitter laugh escaped me.

Still, I texted back.

[Okay.]

I wanted to see whether he could even get through this New Year’s Eve dinner.

The next day, at the Hilton Hotel, Dad contacted the manager early that morning and arranged for us to be seated in the private room next to Julian’s.

Through a concealed window, I could hear everything happening next door.

As expected, Julian did not disappoint.

I had barely taken a seat when his message arrived.

[Darling, you’re at Richard’s place now, right?]

He was testing me.