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My Wife Had a Baby with Another Man, So I Got Remarried Novel Cover

My Wife Had a Baby with Another Man, So I Got Remarried

After ten years of devotion, Peter’s world shatters when his wife, Andrea, admits to a drunken affair with an intern that left her pregnant. She begs for forgiveness, promising an abortion, but six months later, Peter catches her heavily pregnant and shielding her young lover. Realizing her betrayal runs too deep, Peter feels only disgust. Instead of fighting, he calmly walks away, cancels their planned IVF procedure, and dials a long-forgotten number to find a new wife.
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Chapter 3

"Peter, a real man knows when to advance and when to retreat," my mother-in-law added.

I gave a bitter smile and was just about to say, “I don’t want anything—I just want a divorce,” when Andrea's eyes caught the bare skin of my ring finger and asked, “Peter, where’s your wedding ring? Did you forget to wear it? Well, It’s okay—I actually got you a new one.”

She started rummaging through her bag, but before she could find it, a man's voice sounded from behind.

“The ring’s with me.”

I turned around, but Andrea reached him first.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you say you were busy with work today?”

The man gently wrapped his arm around her waist, and replied, “I saw the ring on the nightstand, and thought you might need it today, so I brought it over.”

“Andrea, I’m a little thirsty. Could you get me a glass of water?”

Without hesitation, Andrea hurried off to find a server. On the other hand, the man stepped right up to me.

“Hello, Peter. I’m Harvey.”

I didn’t respond.

Seemingly unbothered, he opened a small ring box in front of me.

I glanced down and smiled wryly. What a coincidence. It was identical to the one he wore on his finger.

“Peter, this is the custom ring Andrea had made for your seventh wedding anniversary.”

Then, he held it out for me to take.

I didn’t reach for it. The next second, the ring dropped to the floor, and Harvey knelt down right in front of me.

“Peter, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have slept with Andrea, even if I was drunk. I swear, it wasn’t intentional.”

“I don’t want anything. I just beg you—please let her keep the baby. I’ll even let you adopt the child as your own if that’s what it takes...”

His eyes were filled with tears, like he was the one suffering some unbearable injustice.

Just then, Andrea returned and saw the scene—Harvey kneeling before me.

The glass in her hand slipped and shattered on the ground.

She rushed to Harvey and gently helped him to his feet. Then she turned to me with a look I had never seen from her before—cold, and guarded.

“Peter, if you’ve got a problem, take it out on me. Why are you making things hard for him?”

The affection in her eyes was unmistakable.

And I realized—even though I had done nothing wrong, in her heart, I had already been convicted.

I was done explaining, so I turned to leave. But before I could get far, her mother stormed up and slapped me hard across the face.

“Useless trash! I thought you were at least sensible. Turns out you’re nothing but a petty, vindictive man—how dare you make him kneel!”

“I’m telling you, that baby—Harvey and Andrea’s child—will definitely be born into the Hayes family. And if anything happens to it, I won’t let you off!”

The sudden force of the slap knocked me backward into a towering pyramid of wine glasses.

In an instant, glass shattered all around me—dozens of sharp shards slashing my skin as they fell.

Andrea froze, instinctively wanting to come help me.

But the moment Harvey clutched his stomach and cried out, “Ah! My stomach... it hurts so much, Andrea, help me, I don’t feel well...”

She hesitated only a moment—then turned away from me, crouched beside Harvey, and helped him up without even a second glance back.

I lay on the floor, bleeding, and dazed, staring up at the giant screen where our wedding photo was still displayed.

Back then, Andrea whispered to me, “Peter, I will marry you. And if I ever make you bleed or cry, I’ll repay it with my life.”

But now—at thirty years old—even as I bled and wept before her, I was nothing more than a stranger in her eyes.

How ironic.

Eventually, I forced myself up, swallowing the pain, and hobbled out to catch a taxi to the hospital.

During the wound dressing, every sting of the alcohol-soaked gauze made my whole body tremble.

Beside me, two nurses were chatting casually.

“Did you hear? Up in the luxury suite on the top floor—Miss Hayes is spoiling that guy like crazy. He just said he was in pain and bam—she had people bring half the city’s luxury brands to the hospital room so he could pick something out.”

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