Mr Billionaire's Regret: Ex-wife Returns With His Triplets.

I stared at the pregnancy test results in my hand, tears rolling down my cheeks in torrents. I was a month gone. I felt relief wash over as more tears fell, my heart pounding with joy and gratitude.

Finally, after years of struggling with infidelity, I was pregnant. I couldn’t help but smile through the tears, a warm sense of joy filling me up. 

I had tried everything, consulted the best doctors, undergone countless tests and procedures, and still, nothing had worked. 

Until now. I looked up to meet the friendly gaze of our private doctor, who smiled at me. 

“Congratulations, ma’am,” she said, holding my hands, her face beaming with genuine happiness for me.

Who wouldn’t be happy for me? My life had been nothing but bruises and thorns after three years of marriage with nothing to show for it. 

My marriage was on the verge of collapse. Ashton, my husband ignored me like I was some kind of plague, and his mother—hmph!—his mother was the worst. 

She made it her day job to maltreat and hurl hurtful insults at me, and I’d willed myself to endure it all.

It was all going to end now.

“Thank you, doctor,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe this is happening.”

The doctor nodded, her expression understanding. “It's a miracle, ma’am. And a blessing. I know this has been a difficult journey for you.”

I nodded, a sob catching in my throat. “It has,” I whispered. “I just… I didn’t think it was possible anymore. I was starting to lose hope.”

The doctor gave me a gentle smile. “But now you have a new beginning, a new chapter in your life,” She said, her voice soft and reassuring and I was grateful for it. “You're going to be a mother, and that’s something to celebrate.”

I nodded, trying to hold back another wave of tears. “Yes, you’re right. I should celebrate this. It’s Christmas tomorrow after all…which makes it even better.”

The doctor nodded with a smile and I stood to my feet. I couldn’t wait to tell Ashton about this. I could only imagine the look on his face when he sees these test results.

This was the best holiday ever.

I made my way out of the hospital, and approached the car. The driver stepped out and opened the passenger door for me. I smiled, breathing in the chilly air and entering the car.

The drive home was a blur of emotions — Joy, relief, and a sense of anticipation swirled in my mind as the cityscape rolled past the car windows. Christmas decorations lit up the streets, a stark contrast to the cold night.

I smiled to myself, imagining Ashton’s face when I told him the news. Would he be happy? Excited? I shook my head, banishing the doubt that threatened to creep in. 

He had to be happy. This was everything we’d been hoping for.

As the car pulled up to the driveway of our home, my heart fluttered.

The driver opened the door, and I stepped out onto the snow-dusted driveway, the cold air nipping at my cheeks. My breath came out in puffs of white as I walked towards the front door, my mind racing with possibilities.

The house was quiet, and I paused at the threshold, gathering my courage. I took a deep breath, then pushed open the door.

“Ashton?” I called out, stepping into the foyer. “Are you home?”

Silence.

That was strange. He was supposed to be back from work by now. Even though he was hesitant, he had agreed to spend Christmas Eve with me.

Did he change his mind?

I shook my head to dismiss any form of negative thoughts swirling in, and took a deep breath. A chill crept into the air as I stepped into the living room, the Christmas lights twinkling on the fireplace mantle. The Christmas tree I had decorated with so much care sat alone in the corner, its lights casting dancing shadows on the wall.

“Ashton?” I called out again, my voice barely above a whisper. I checked all the rooms in the house but couldn’t find him and had to return downstairs again. 

 I brought out my phone and was about to dial his number when my eyes caught something.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I’d been holding. There, on the coffee table, a folded piece of paper caught my eye. I snatched it up, eager to know what lies within.

As I unfolded the paper, a smile crept onto my face. In Ashton’s neat handwriting, a message: “I'm running a bit late. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll definitely be home to spend Christmas Eve with you. Please, make dinner. I’m starving.”

A flood of relief washed over me. He was just late. He hadn't abandoned me. And I couldn’t help the warmth I felt after reading his note. He sounded different—like really different—because the Ashton he became after I couldn’t get pregnant wouldn’t speak to me so nicely.

He wouldn’t even leave a note.

I recall how we first met. It was in College. I was just a freshman majoring in Arts and Theatre while he was in his final year, majoring in the same thing. We met on the set, acted in the Romeo and Juliet play, and fell in love. He was the best thing that had happened to me. His mother loved me, and after I graduated, and he took over the family’s business, we got married.

But after two years—after I couldn’t conceive—he changed. Everyone changed except his father who still supported me.

I didn’t realize a tear had rolled down my cheeks and dropped on the table, snapping me out of my reverie. I wiped my eyes, determined to put these thoughts behind me. I had something to celebrate, after all.

I flitted around the kitchen, humming Christmas carols as I prepared Ashton’s favorite meal. A hearty beef stew, served with crusty bread and a glass of red wine.

The hours ticked by slowly, my anticipation growing with each passing moment. I checked the time, noticing it was getting late. Where was Ashton? Was he okay? 

I tried calling him, but it didn’t go through. The air was becoming even chillier now that he wasn’t here.

“Ashton,” I whispered, my expectant gaze on the door. “Where are you?” I blew hot air into my palms and rubbed them against each other.

Dinner was getting cold, and Ashton was nowhere to be found. I was getting worried; worried that something might have happened to him, worried that he might not make it, and worried that, maybe he just wrote that note to make me feel good, and he wouldn’t be able to make it.

But Ashton wouldn’t lie to me. I trusted him, and I hated that doubts were creeping in.

My phone began ringing, making me jump. I quickly took it and sighed in relief when I saw his name flashing on the screen.

With a cute pout, I answered and placed the phone on my ear. “Ash, where are you? I’ve been trying to call you, but—”

“Oh my fucking God, that’s it! Fuck me harder, Ashton!” 

I blinked at the sound that just came out through the phone.

Did I just hear Ashton? And… and… moans?

I brought the phone down to look at the screen again. Perhaps my eyes and ears were playing tricks on me, but it was true. 

I could hear grunts, moans, and flesh slapping against flesh. 

“Come on, Ashton, fuck me and get me pregnant since your barren wife can’t get the job done!”

My blood ran cold. Ashton…. I covered my mouth with my palms, tears pooling in my eyes. 

I felt like my heart had been stepped on, crushed and broken.

Ashton was… my husband was cheating on me.

On Christmas Eve.

While I’m pregnant with his child.