Six Months Pregnant — Then My Husband Went Mad

A sharp pain pierced my chest.

When he first started his business, he hit wall after wall, struggling so badly that he couldn’t even afford the rent.

I couldn’t bear to see him so discouraged, so I bought this house—and to cheer him up, I even put his name on the deed.

And now, because the title was in his name, he thought he could throw me out.

"Ethan, Claire is still pregnant. Don’t make things harder for her because of me. If she doesn’t like me here, then I’ll leave."

"Pregnant, so what? Don’t think that just because you’ve got something in your belly you can throw your weight around."

"No—you’re not leaving! If anyone goes, it’s her!"

In the middle of their argument, Isabella Reed pressed a hand to her forehead and collapsed in a dainty swoon.

Ethan panicked and shoved me.

My lower back slammed into the edge of the table behind me, and a stabbing pain shot through my abdomen. My face went instantly pale.

"Ethan Walker!" My voice was hoarse. "My stomach… it hurts."

"If your stomach hurts, go see a doctor. What do you want me to do? Isabella’s low blood sugar is acting up again—she needs to rest!"

With that, he scooped her into his arms and rushed her into the bedroom.

Moments later, muffled, intimate sounds drifted out from inside.

In the end, it was a passing neighbor who saw me collapse in the living room and rushed me to the hospital.

When I woke again, Ethan was sitting at my bedside. Seeing my eyes open, he teared up.

"Honey, thank God you’re okay."

I just looked at him in silence.

"I’m sorry. I must have lost my mind earlier—I didn’t mean to lose my temper. Will you forgive me?"

His earlier cruelty was gone, replaced with the familiar façade of the perfect husband.

But all I felt was exhaustion.

"Ethan Walker, let’s get a divorce."

His eyes widened. "Just because I let Isabella stay in the house for a few days, you want to divorce me?"

"Yes."

"Don’t joke around. We have a baby on the way."

His hand reached toward my slightly rounded belly.

Right then, the baby kicked, making him flinch in surprise before his face lit up with joy.

"See? He’s moving. The baby is innocent. Even if you hate me, would you really let him be born without a father?"

"Don’t overthink it. Just give birth safely, and afterward, you can vent your anger however you want, okay?"

The mention of the child only deepened my disgust.

The life growing inside me was the offspring of him and Isabella—someone who had nothing to do with me—yet it greedily drained my body’s strength.

Its very existence was a cruel reminder that I was a living joke.

No wonder Ethan was suddenly being so conciliatory—he still needed me to bring his child into the world.

I was about to speak when a middle-aged woman stormed in, her voice sharp and venomous.

"You heartless woman! You nearly caused my precious grandson to be miscarried!"

It was Ethan’s mother, Martha Walker.

"I went to a master and got this blessed water—it’ll keep my grandson healthy. Drink it now."

The liquid in the bowl was pitch-black and reeked with a nauseating stench. I felt sick before it even came close to my lips.

Over the years, she’d forced me to drink countless bizarre concoctions in hopes of making me pregnant.

Back then, with my heart full of Ethan, I endured the disgust for his sake.

But now, having seen his true face, there was no way I’d drink it.

"Take it away. I’m not drinking that."

"I got this for my grandson—whether you want to or not, you’re drinking it!"

Martha’s eyes bulged with fury as she grabbed my jaw, trying to force it down my throat.