My Don Husband Chose His Sister-in-Law, So I Took His Heir

I looked at the untouched Christmas dinner spread across the table and suddenly laughed.

I picked up my phone and called my mother.

"You should have left him a long time ago."

Her voice was calm, but it was exactly what I needed to finally make up my mind.

"Your mother-in-law Adeline has always put Roxy first, and Damian can't get his priorities straight. I've already found you a lawyer. We can file the moment the holidays are over."

I laid a hand on my round belly and answered with a quiet "Mm."

Three days ago, at my prenatal checkup, the doctor had said:

"The baby is developing very well, and he's in the right position. You should be able to deliver naturally. Did your husband come with you? There are a few things you should both hear."

Damian hadn't come.

He was at Roxy's, hanging her Christmas lights and hauling in her Christmas tree.

Our text thread was still stuck on yesterday.

I'd written: "I'll be thirty-eight weeks next week. The baby could come any day. Can you please stop running over to Roxy's so much?"

He'd answered: "Roxy's raising Leo by herself, and there's a lot to take care of at the end of the year. I'll try."

I'll try.

I'd been hearing those two words for five years.

The first time was on our wedding day.

The ballroom was packed, every major family in the city in attendance.

We were barely halfway through our first dance when Roxy called, saying Leo wouldn't stop crying and she couldn't calm him down.

Damian let go of my hands and turned to leave. I said, "Today is our wedding."

All he left me with was "I'll try to get back," and then he disappeared into the crowd of guests.

In the end, he never came back.

It was two in the morning before he finally came home. I heard him speaking quietly on the phone in the living room.

"He's finally asleep? Good. Don't worry, Roxy. You did your best. I'm here if you need me."

I was only twenty-six back then, and I thought newlyweds just needed time to adjust to each other.

Now, at thirty-one and nine months pregnant, I was finally ready to admit the truth.

It had never been about adjusting.

He had never once put me first.

At one-thirty in the morning, the lock on the front door turned softly.

I heard him come in.

Damian slipped into bed, his skin cold from the night air as he tried not to disturb me.

The mattress dipped slightly. I didn't even need to open my eyes to know he was home.

For five years, every time he came back from Roxy's, he had been this careful.

"Camilla, still awake?" He leaned closer and instinctively reached for my belly.

I pushed it away.

His hand hung in midair. After a long moment, he drew it back.

"Someone climbed over the wall into Roxy's backyard. I had my men search the entire property. They found nothing, but Roxy was terrified, so I stayed. You know how it is. She's a woman alone with a child, and it's Christmas..."

"I know," I said, cutting him off. "She's been through a lot."

I'd been saying those words for five years.

From our first year of marriage to now, with my own baby almost here, Roxy had always been the one who'd "been through a lot."

And every Christmas Eve, her call came right on schedule, in the early evening.

The first year, the alarm system wouldn't stop going off.

The second year, Leo fell ill, and they couldn't reach the family doctor.

The third year, a strange black sedan sat outside her gate all night.

The fourth year, she got an anonymous call where no one said a word.

This year, she claimed someone had appeared on the backyard cameras.

The excuse changed every year, but the outcome was always the same.

My husband, a man feared throughout New York's underworld, had left his pregnant wife alone on Christmas Eve to rush to another woman's house and chase away an "intruder" no one had even seen.

Damian sighed, sounding helpless.

"Camilla, don't be like this. Marco died too young, and that bullet was meant for me. Roxy is the only sister-in-law I have, and Leo is my only nephew. We're family. We have to look out for each other."

I ran a hand over my swollen belly. When I spoke, my voice had gone cold.

"And what about us? What are the baby and I to you?"

"You're the most important people in my life!"

He answered at once, then added:

"But Roxy and Leo are family too. Camilla, you're about to be a mother. Can't you be a little more generous?"

At the end of July, when my morning sickness was at its worst, he had taken Roxy and Leo to the aquarium and missed my prenatal appointment.

We'd had a terrible fight, and he'd slammed the door on his way out.

"Would you stop comparing yourself to a widow? She's been through enough!"

I cried until I nearly passed out, and in the end, for the baby's sake, I gave in.

"Damian, I'm giving you three chances. If you still can't tell who matters more before I give birth, we're getting a divorce."

Back then, I was only four months pregnant, and I still believed he would change.

Now, at nine months, disappointment after disappointment had worn that belief down to nothing.

I rolled over and studied his silhouette in the dark.

"Damian."

"Hm?"

"The countdown on those three chances starts tomorrow."

He blinked, then let out a breath of relief.

He thought I'd backed down.

Just like every other time.

I'd fight, he'd soothe me, and in the end, I'd forgive him.

"All right, all right." He moved closer, and this time I didn't pull away. "I'll be careful. Roxy is only my sister-in-law. You're my wife."

The baby kicked again, right into his palm.

He laughed. "He's got quite a kick."

I smiled back, but my heart had turned to ice.

Baby, I'm sorry you're already learning how often your father chooses someone else.

After the third time, Mommy is taking us home.