Six Years of Secret Marriage, I Left My Cheating Husband

###Chapter 3

One moment he was calling me his favorite "plaything," and the next, his eyes were red with false concern.

'Dawson, the Oscars owe you a golden statue!'

I pulled my hand away and put some space between us.

“I must’ve caught a cold these past few days. I just feel... drained.”

He gently brushed my hair, concern written all over his face, then clasped the sapphire necklace around my neck. His tone was casual—too casual.

“Maxine, I’ll need to go on another business trip soon. This time it’ll be over a month. I really don’t want to leave you.”

Over a month? That’s more than enough time to throw a wedding—and go on a honeymoon around the world.

Even though my heart was shattered, I still clung to hope like a fool. I reached for his hand.

“Dawson... I’ve been feeling uneasy lately. Could you stay? Just this once—don’t go?”

He cupped my face with tenderness, his voice soothing.

“This is a major project, sweetheart. I have to go make money to support you. Be good and wait for me at home, okay?”

Looking at his feigned helplessness, I clenched my fist, nails digging into my trembling palms.

Finally, I nodded, heart numb and cold.

“...Then go.”

Relieved, he leaned in and pinned me gently to the pillow, his lips brushing my cheek.

“Baby, how about we try again tonight? Maybe I’ll finally give you a child...”

But his words ripped open wounds in my already tattered heart.

I instinctively pushed him away. “Dawson, let’s wait until you’re back. I’m not feeling well today.”

He stroked my pale cheek, seemingly convinced. Then he kissed my hair.

“Alright. Rest early.”

Maybe he was too worn out from serving Elise, because the moment he lay down, he started snoring.

I turned and picked up the phone by his bedside.

He’d always said he had nothing to hide, that he didn’t even need a password.

Now I knew the truth—his phone had dual systems.

I typed in Elise’s birthday, and the system switched instantly.

Right there on the home screen was a wedding photo of Dawson and Elise kissing beneath the Eiffel Tower.

My breath hitched.

With trembling hands, I opened their chat. The first thing I saw was Elise holding their baby, beaming.

[Our son is so cute! He looks just like you. He’s going to be such a little heartbreaker.]

Every message burned through me like acid.

[You fly to see me all the time. Aren’t you afraid Maxine will find out?]

[She believes everything I say. Don’t worry. She’s too stupid to ever figure it out.]

Scrolling up, I found even more.

Elise had sent him private, explicit photos.

She was naked, heavily pregnant, wearing nothing but a sheer thong. Her legs were parted, and she was teasing her well-maintained body with delicate fingers.

[Hubby, the doctor says the baby’s almost due. He says I’ll have an easier delivery if the father stays... active.]

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked at the timestamp.

It was two months ago—on my birthday.

That night, Dawson had gotten a sudden “work call.” His expression had changed in a heartbeat, and in his rush to leave, he’d knocked over a chair, cutting the birthday song short.

“Sorry, baby. There’s an emergency overseas. I’ll make it up to you with an even more romantic celebration when I get back.”

He’d kissed me goodbye, and left me standing there, stunned.

Now I finally understood. He had spent most of the year abroad.

His so-called business trips were just excuses to be with his mistress, pampering her through her pregnancy.

Even on my birthday—he couldn’t wait one more night to be by her side.

My fingers, pale with fury, nearly crushed the phone.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the photo album.

Hundreds of gigabytes of photos and videos documented every moment of Elise’s pregnancy—right up to the birth.

Dawson, who never lifted a finger at home, was seen preparing fancy, nutritious meals for her every single day.

He had skipped important meetings just to take her to prenatal appointments.

When she threw up from morning sickness, his obsessive cleanliness didn’t stop him from catching her vomit with his bare hands.

He even bought a castle in Tuscany, just so she could rest and recover in luxury.

He treated her like a princess.

And me? He wouldn’t even give me a child—because in his eyes, only Elise was worthy of bearing his heir.

I slowly set the phone down, my expression blank.

My hands trembled as I placed them on my belly.

Baby... were you just as disappointed in your father as I was?

Is that why you didn’t want to be born into this cruel home?

If so... maybe it’s better that you left.