My Husband Denied My Pregnancy to Protect His First Love

I stared at the yellow folder in his hand. My fingers gripped the edge of my leather purse. The plastic test felt heavy inside.

"I can't," I whispered. My voice shook. "Enzo, I can't sign this."

He crossed his arms. The fabric of his suit pulled tight over his chest. "Don't make this difficult, Blaire. I gave you plenty of money."

"It's not about the money!" I cried. I stepped closer to him. "I'm pregnant, Enzo. I took a test today. We are going to have a baby."

The room went completely silent. The rain beat against the tall glass windows. It sounded like tiny, angry drums.

Isabella gasped from the sofa. She pressed a pale hand to her chest. "Enzo? Is that true?"

Enzo didn't look at her. He kept his dark eyes locked on me. A cruel sneer twisted his handsome face. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh.

"Nice try, Blaire," he said coldly.

I blinked. The room spun. "What?"

"Did you really think that would work?" he demanded. He stepped into my space. He smelled like mint and anger. "Did you think a fake baby would keep me tied to you?"

"It's not fake," I pleaded. I reached into my purse. "I have the test right here. I can show you."

He grabbed my wrist. His grip was like iron. "Stop lying."

"I'm not!"

"You are," he hissed. "Because it's medically impossible."

My breath hitched. "What do you mean?"

Enzo let go of my arm. He looked at me with pure disgust. "Two years ago, I had a secret vasectomy. I made sure of it. I swore I would never have children with anyone but Isabella."

He glanced back at my sister. Her fake panic melted into a smug smile. She looked like a cat that got the cream.

Enzo turned back to me. "So, unless you've been sleeping around, there is no baby. And if there is, it certainly isn't mine."

The words hit my brain like lightning.

*Vasectomy.*

It was a lie. I knew his medical records inside and out. I managed his doctor appointments. I tracked every pill, every check-up, every ulcer flare-up. There was no surgery. He was lying just to protect Isabella's feelings. He was throwing away his own flesh and blood just to keep her comfortable.

Then, something snapped inside my head.

A sharp, blinding pain shot through my skull. The world tilted. The colors in the room inverted for a split second. A rush of strange, alien memories flooded my mind.

I saw pages of a book. I saw words printed in black ink.

*The billionaire's true love returns.*

*The pathetic sister begs for scraps.*

*The doomed side character loses everything.*

I gasped for air. I stumbled back and hit the edge of the glass coffee table.

It all made sense now. The blind favoritism. The extreme cruelty. The way my parents always chose her. The way Enzo treated me like garbage despite my devotion.

I wasn't a real person to them. I was just a plot device. I was the pathetic, clingy substitute wife in a trashy romance novel. My only purpose was to suffer so Isabella could look better. I was supposed to cry, sign the papers, and fade away into misery.

The ringing in my ears stopped. The heavy, crushing weight in my chest vanished. The pathetic love I held for Enzo for seven years evaporated into thin air.

I stood up straight. I looked at Enzo. He was waiting for my tears. He was waiting for me to break down and beg.

Isabella watched from the sofa. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. She wanted a show.

But the tears didn't come. My eyes felt completely dry. My heart turned to a block of solid ice.

I looked down at the divorce papers in his hand. Then I looked up at his arrogant face.

A slow smirk spread across my lips.

Enzo frowned. His dark brows pulled together. He wasn't expecting me to smile. "What is wrong with you?" he snapped. "Sign the papers and get out."

He shoved the folder toward my chest. He held out an expensive silver pen.

I reached out. I took the pen from his fingers. I rolled the cool metal between my thumb and index finger. It felt heavy and expensive.

"You know, Enzo," I said gently. My voice was completely steady. No shaking. No pleading. "You really are a terrible liar."

Isabella stood up. Her silk dress rustled. "Blaire, just do as he says. Don't embarrass yourself."

I ignored her. I kept my eyes on my husband. My *soon-to-be ex*-husband.

"A vasectomy," I mused. I clicked the pen once. *Click.* "That's very creative. But we both know you hate hospitals. You won't even get a flu shot without me holding your hand."

Enzo's jaw tightened. A vein popped in his neck. His knuckles turned white. "I said, sign it."

"No."

I let go of the yellow folder. It hit the floor with a loud smack. The papers scattered across the pristine marble.

Enzo stared at the mess. He looked completely shocked. "What did you just do?"

I slipped his expensive silver pen into my designer purse. I snapped the clasp shut. "I'm not signing anything right now. I don't feel like it."

"Blaire!" Enzo roared. The anger finally broke through his cold mask. He stepped forward.

I didn't flinch. I just smiled wider. I turned on my heel. I walked toward the hallway.

"Where are you going?" he demanded. His heavy footsteps followed me.

"To my room," I called over my shoulder. "I need my beauty sleep. We have a lot of things to discuss before I give you what you want."

I didn't look back. I didn't care about his anger. I didn't care about Isabella's fake shock.

The pathetic side character was dead. And I was going to make them pay for every single second.