The Final Checkmate

"Honey, try this homemade chicken soup I made for you. I've been simmering it for six hours just to make sure you and our little one get all the nutrients you need," Zayn said with pride.

He playfully held up his right index finger to show the blisters and said, "Look what I went through for you both."

No one would have guessed that the man in an apron was Zayn Yeager, the famously aloof and unapproachable CEO of a publicly traded company, who was often described as such in the media.

My stomach suddenly churned violently, forcing me to rush to the bathroom and throw up. Zayn followed close behind, gently rubbing my back.

"Our baby is already giving you such a hard time. Just wait until he comes out—I'll teach him a lesson for making his mommy suffer!"

His voice was filled with genuine concern as he continued, "Honey, you've been through so much, enduring 18 rounds of IVF just to have our baby, and now, you're dealing with morning sickness. I just..."

He showed no disgust at my sickness, lovingly wiping my face with a washcloth. We had been married for five years, and he had always put me first.

If I had even the slightest headache or fever, he would drop everything to rush to my side and take care of me with unwavering devotion. Everyone said I must have done something extraordinary in my past life to deserve such an amazing husband.

If I had not accidentally overheard his conversation with Yvonne that day, I would also have believed I had found my fairy tale prince instead of a wolf in sheep's clothing.

As my nausea subsided, I interrupted him, emphasizing certain words, "I'm willing to endure any hardship for my child."

A flash of satisfaction crossed Zayn's features before he put on an emotional facade. "You've sacrificed so much, honey. When this little guy arrives, he should take your last name."

Then, he continued earnestly, "I'll raise him to be devoted to you. When he's old enough, he'll inherit the Summers family business, and we can travel the world together—it's the least you deserve after all these IVF treatments and carrying our child."

I could practically see the wheels turning in Zayn's head as he spoke. I merely smiled without responding and reclined on the couch to ease my nausea.

Then, the doorbell rang, and Zayn immediately rose to answer it. There was some rustling at the door, and after two minutes, Yvonne Rogers's voice carried into the room.

"Candice, I'm here to check on you and the baby," Yvonne announced. "I also brought some documents for Mr. Yeager."

Yvonne was a former scholarship student I had supported through college. After that, she worked as Zayn's secretary at the Summers Group.

As she stood there, I noticed she was wearing a form-fitting dress, her lips slightly swollen, and her lipstick smeared. Meanwhile, Zayn's lips also bore suspicious traces of red.