My Husband Implanted His Mistress's Child In My Womb

On the day of our daughter's one-month anniversary, my husband's ex-girlfriend posted a photo on Instagram of them holding a baby together. The caption read: "Our little family finally reunited."

I was stunned by the photo, seeing my precious Marie—the daughter I had carried for nine months and brought into this world. I commented, "That seems to be my daughter."

Moments later, Maxwell called me.

"Amalia just adores our daughter and wants to be her godmother; that's why she posted that. Do you have to be so uptight?"

"You’re becoming more and more paranoid! Instead of obsessing over social media, why not focus on recovering after birth? Just look at how much weight you’ve gained!"

Before I could respond, he hung up.

When I checked Instagram again, the post was gone, and her account had blocked me from viewing her updates.

I stared at the supposed family photo, feeling as though my heart was being torn apart.

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When Maxwell returned home, I was just folding the last piece of clothing into the suitcase.

He looked at the neatly packed clothes, his handsome brows furrowing deeply.

"I swear, Amalia and I have nothing going on. Today she just felt impulsive and took a photo with Marie. Can you stop being so jealous?"

I paused, holding back my anger as I replied, "Ever since Amalia came back from Spain, you’ve been bending over backward for her. Isn't that obvious to you?"

Maxwell's eyes darted around, his expression suddenly darkening.

"Aurelia, are you crossing the line?"

"Amalia is my friend. My company needs someone with her international experience. Right now, we’re just colleagues!"

Thinking of the three-person photo, I laughed bitterly, "Colleagues? The kind that sleep together?"

At those words, Maxwell kicked my suitcase over, scattering clothes everywhere.

"You’re being so unreasonable, Aurelia! If I really wanted to be with her, you wouldn't even be part of the picture. Watch your words, or I won't hesitate to divorce you."

Maxwell stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

I stared at the overturned suitcase, feeling as if I were looking at my shattered heart.

Since Amalia returned from Spain, Maxwell had been giving her preferential treatment in every aspect.

Even colleagues at his company complained to me, frustrated that to solidify her position, Maxwell had placed her directly into the role of product director. When Amalia said, "I want to prove my abilities," he reassigned a successfully launched project to her, despite it eventually losing half a million dollars.

He just brushed it off as "an investment in developing talent."

Employees grumbled behind the scenes, calling Amalia a "charmer." But the next day, every one of them was fired without exception.

After that, no one dared to oppose her.

If all this were simply my imagination, how could that "family photo" on Amalia’s Instagram be explained?