My Wife Gave Birth to Twins, Only One Is Mine

“Thomas, when did the project I worked day and night for become yours?”

I stared him down, fists clenched at my sides, fury boiling beneath my skin.

The bastard didn’t even flinch at first—but the moment our eyes locked, and he saw the fire in mine, he faltered.

Guilt flickered across his face. Then, just like a coward, he slipped behind Lorena, using her as a shield.

“Miss Lorena,” he said, feigning innocence, “this project was my work. Director Parker must be exhausted from taking care of the baby—he’s confused, trying to claim credit for something he didn’t do.”

Lorena turned to me, her expression filled with quiet contempt.

She didn’t ask a single question. Didn’t hesitate to doubt me.

Instead, she smiled politely at the confused business partner and said, “Don’t mind him. Since I announced the company would reward anyone who brings in an exceptional project, some people are trying to seize the opportunity—by any means.”

Then she added without blinking, “I believe this project belongs to my assistant, Thomas.”

The partner’s face darkened. He gave me a look of disgust, like I was some kind of pest crawling out of the woodwork.

“I didn’t expect to see someone stoop this low. All that effort… just to steal a little credit?” he sneered.

His words sparked a wave of laughter.

“Director Parker really fooled us all…”

“You truly can’t judge a person by their appearance.”

“Maybe it’s revenge… because of what happened…”

“Shhh! That’s too much, keep it down!”

I stood there—frozen in place, humiliated, a thousand eyes digging into my back.

Like a clown in a tragedy, I was the last one to realize the joke was on me.

I snapped.

With no hesitation, I stepped forward and punched Thomas square in the face.

The sound of the impact was deafening. He staggered, clutching his nose, his mask of innocence shattered.

“I did the damn project!” I shouted, voice hoarse. “You just stole it the moment I passed out from exhaustion. You think I’d let that slide?”

The room erupted into chaos.

Lorena’s expression twisted into a frown. She turned to the staff and said coldly, “Take the partner out. Now.”

She didn’t want clients to see the company’s dirty laundry. Once the doors shut behind them, she turned on me with fire in her eyes—and without warning, slapped me across the face.

The sting was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

She froze the moment her palm made contact, visibly shaken by what she’d done. Her hand trembled as she pulled it back, but the damage was done.

In all our years together—marriage, parenthood, everything—we’d never fought like this.

Never hit each other.

Never even raised our voices.

And now, for the first time, she chose him.

“Have you lost your mind?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me today?”

Her voice cracked with fury. “If you need money that badly, just say so. Don’t act like a child stealing credit from others.”

Even now, she didn’t believe me.

Even now, she didn’t bother to ask.

Thomas stepped in with a show of false humility, his voice sickeningly soft. “Miss Lorena, please don’t blame Director Parker. I don’t want to come between you two.”

You already have, I thought bitterly.

You slithered in between us the moment her heart left mine.

I let out a laugh—dry, broken, hollow.

Tears welled in my eyes, not from the slap, but from the crushing weight of betrayal.

Lorena’s eyes flickered with hesitation when she saw me like that. She looked as if she wanted to say something—maybe an apology, maybe a lie—but I didn’t give her the chance.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my employee badge, and tossed it on the floor.

“Lorena, I’ll send you both the divorce papers and my resignation later today.”

With that, I turned and walked out, leaving everything—my dignity, my love, and that hollow shell of a marriage—behind me.

She stood frozen, stunned. She hadn’t expected me to be the one to end it.

Just as she started toward me, Thomas caught her wrist.

“Lorie, let’s go. Your mom called just now. The baby’s been crying nonstop.”

“I think… he misses his mother.”

That was all it took. The thought of his child—their child—was enough to make her forget me entirely.

She didn’t chase after me.

She didn’t call out my name.

She turned her back and left with him.

I stood outside, watching her disappear down the corridor. My heart hardened.

So there really was a child waiting for her.

She had a son crying for her, hoping for his mother’s arms—and it wasn’t mine.

It wasn’t ours.

The moment I got home, I heard my son crying in the next room.

The sound broke me.

I rushed in and held him close, his tiny body trembling in my arms.

His cries were filled with confusion and pain, too young to understand abandonment—but old enough to feel it.

His mother was out there, cuddling someone else’s baby.

And she hadn’t called once to ask about him.