My Husband Isn’t the Father of My Baby, but His Boss Is

"Sign it," I said, dropping the heavy folder onto the desk in front of Julian.

Julian didn't look down. He leaned back against the mahogany edge, rolling his cuffs. "What is this, honey?"

"Divorce papers."

He froze. "Don't be ridiculous, Elena. We have three joint ventures launching next month. You can't blow up a ten-billion-dollar alliance over a mood swing."

"It's not a mood swing." I took two steps forward, keeping my posture rigid. "I met with my attorney two hours ago. The terms are clean. You keep your shares, I keep mine, and we dissolve the marriage quietly."

"No." He pushed the papers away with the tip of his finger. "I'm not signing."

"Why not? You can go back to Chloe's side."

Julian's face tightened. "Who told you about Chloe?"

"She keeps sending photos to my personal number, Julian. Did you think I was blind, or just stupid?"

He stepped closer, reaching for my arm. I pulled back before his skin brushed mine.

"Chloe is an old obsession, Elena. Nothing more," he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, persuasive register. "She's a ghost from before I built this company. But you? You're my wife. Nobody else will ever sit at the head of my table."

"Your built it?" I met his gaze without blinking. "You built that house on Vance money."

"But I doubled it," he snapped, his temper flaring through his polished exterior. "Go upstairs, take a bath, and forget this childish tantrum."

"Sign the papers, Julian."

"Never." He picked up the contract, gripped the thick bond paper in both hands, and ripped it down the spine. "Get dressed. We have a gala tonight."

He tossed the shredded pages onto the floor and walked out.

An hour later, I was standing in my parents' sunlit lounge.

My father didn't even look up from his financial tablet when I dropped the duplicate draft.

"Take it back," my father said flatly.

"He's sleeping with Chloe," I said, my voice steady, cutting through the silence of the room. "I want to leave."

My mother set her porcelain teacup down with a sharp clatter. "Keep your voice down, Elena. The household staff has ears."

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"Men like Julian have distractions. It happens. You swallow your pride and maintain the household." my father barked, finally slamming the tablet onto the desk.

"Endure it, Elena. Every woman of our status endures it." My mother walked over, gripping my wrists tightly.

A strange laugh slipped past my lips.

"Is that all I am to you?"

"You're our daughter," my mother said coldly, releasing my hands. "Which means you protect this family."

My father picked up his phone, dialing Julian. "Julian? Yes, my boy. Elena is here. She's a bit overwrought. Come pick her up. You two should prepare for the evening together." He hung up without waiting for an answer.

Thirty minutes later, Julian walked into the room, freshly composed, playing the devoted son-in-law.

"Dad, Mom," Julian greeted them. "I apologize. Elena's been under an immense amount of pressure. I haven't paid enough attention to her needs. It's my fault."

"We understand, Julian," my father replied, patting his shoulder. "Enjoy a good night."

I stared at his outstretched hand and walked past him toward the front doors without taking it.

The black Maybach took us across town in suffocating silence.

"Play your part tonight, Elena," he muttered near my cheek, his fingers tightening around my joint.

"Let go of me," I said evenly.

Three stylists swarmed me the moment I crossed the threshold of Maison Vane. I stared at my reflection under the glaring vanity bulbs, watching my face transform into a polished, impenetrable mask. Underneath the silk robe, my hand rested flat against my stomach.

A secret life was growing inside me.

Julian's phone chimed. He glanced at the screen, a subtle smirk playing on his lips before he wiped it away and typed a rapid reply.

As I zipped my dress closed, his phone buzzed again on the vanity counter.

"Let's go," I said softly. "I wouldn't want to keep your investors waiting."