The billionaire's trifling romance:Her revenge

"You're pregnant."

The sound of the doctor's voice sprang me up from my lying position into a sitting one.

"What?!" I exclaimed happily, beaming a smile at the doctor.

"Well, you seem to be happy about it, so congratulations, Samantha," the doctor said, smiling down at me on the bed.

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I can't wait to tell my husband the good news," I said, trying to find my cell phone.

"Do you remember where you were before being rushed in? You were found passed out on the floor at the subway station," the doctor explained with a tone of worry. "When you got here, we tried calling your emergency contact, but no one answered," he added, moving towards the door to close it, avoiding people outside from hearing our conversation.

"Oh yeah, my husband is a very busy person. He might have been in a meeting when you called him. I probably shouldn’t call him now either—I’ll just tell him the good news when I get home," I said, stopping my search for the phone and wanting to lie back down on the bed.

"But your husband wasn’t the only person we called. We called someone else, but they didn’t answer either," he said, leaving the door and moving to the center of the room.

"Oh, that must have been my mother-in-law. She’s also a very busy person. But you have nothing to worry about. I mean, I’m alright anyway, so there’s no need to bother them," I said, trying to ignore the conversation, but he just wouldn’t drop it.

"Well, we still need to run some tests to know how old the baby is. It’s probably in the first trimester, so you need to be extra careful because the first trimester is the most dangerous for babies. I’ll also need you to come register for antenatal care with your husband so we can monitor the baby until it’s time for delivery," the doctor explained with a serious look on his face.

"Wow, you’re talking like some professional now, huh, Jamie?" I said, laughing to ease the tension in the room.

"Of course I’m a professional. I’m the number one doctor in the whole hospital," he stated, patting his head.

"Are you seriously bragging right now?" I asked, feeling a bit of ease returning, glad he wasn’t talking about my husband anymore.

"Become a doctor and see if you won’t brag," he said, smirking.

"You know, I was way brighter than you when we were in school. If I had become a doctor too, I’d be number one and you’d be number two," I said jokingly.

"And that would have been better than you abandoning your studies to marry a man who doesn’t even care about you."

Great. He went back to the topic I was trying to avoid.

Silence fell over the hospital room. He must have regretted what he said.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

I immediately tried to brush it off.

"It’s fine… because it’s not true anyway. My husband loves me. He just doesn’t know how to show it," I said—trying to convince him, or was I trying to convince myself?

“Sammy, what kind of husband forgets your birthday and doesn’t check when you’re in danger? You could have died, and he wouldn’t even know. And his family? They’re no better." he said, finally sitting on the chair in front of my bed.

"Look, Jamie, it’s not like that. They’re just busy, that’s all. My husband is always worried about me, and so is his family," I answered, trying to clear my family’s name of his false accusations—but were they false?

"Do they even consider you family?" he asked, but I cut him off.

"Enough, Jamie. I’m not getting mad at you because you’re my childhood friend, but there are certain lines you shouldn’t cross," I said, getting out of bed. "I can go home, right? I’ll process the discharge myself. And I’ll make sure to come with my husband for the antenatal appointment, so you can see just how much he cares for me," I added, hoping nothing would go wrong—and that Ethan would actually make it for the antenatal care.

"Fine. But why did you even go to the subway station anyway?" he asked while opening the door for me.

"My mother-in-law sent me on an errand," I replied.

"What did she—"

"I’m not answering that. You don’t have to know. Once the test results are out, you can email them to me or send them to my house. Bye, Jamie," I said, waving him off at the door.

---

The clock ticked louder, the smell of stew turning sour as the night deepened. Even the refrigerator’s hum felt louder than my own heartbeat.

I finished cooking, but he still wasn’t back. Steam curled up from the food, fading into the silence as the minutes dragged on. The clock’s ticking grew louder — or maybe it was just in my head.

By the time I finally heard his car three hours later, the rice had gone cold—and so had my excitement.

"Welcome, honey," I said, unable to hide my joy. I was smiling from ear to ear.

"Yeah," he muttered, heading straight to the bedroom.

"Oh, you must be tired. Did your boss make you work overtime again? Do you want to take a shower or eat first?" I asked, taking his bag and suit jacket.

"I’ll just take a shower and go to bed. I’m really tired today, and I have to go to work early tomorrow," he said, not even glancing at me or the dining table.

"But I made your favorite food—"

"Just eat it or feed it to the neighbor’s dog or something," he cut me off, sounding irritated, as if I was forcing him.

"But—" I tried to explain, my voice small and sad.

"I had dinner with my team members, so I can’t eat anymore tonight," he said halfheartedly, just to make sure I wouldn’t insist.

I hadn’t even had dinner because I was waiting for him. I kept his bag in our room and quickly cleared the table before he finished showering.

I went back to the room to wait for him.

"I have good news, Ethan," I said, forgetting the earlier tension, too excited to tell him.

"Well, can it wait till tomorrow? I need to sleep," he said, getting into bed and turning off the bedside lamp.

"No… it can’t," I said, turning the light back on. I just couldn’t wait.

"What, did you win a lottery or something?" he asked with a smirk, sitting up slightly.

"It’s more than winning a lottery," I said, my heart racing. The happiness I felt was more than what a child feels when you give them candy.

"Something better than money? Alright then, let’s hear it," he said. I finally had his attention.

"I’m pregnant, Ethan. I’m so happy I can’t contain it! We finally have a baby after being married for four years. Isn’t that amazing?" I went on, not even realizing that the demeanor of the man in front of me had already changed.

I expected Ethan to be even happier than I was—but instead, a sudden anger crossed his face. Or was it a look of betrayal?

The whole room suddenly went cold.

“And who is the father of this child?”

He took another step toward me.

“Ethan… what are you saying?” I whispered, backing away — but his eyes were already wild, unreadable.

The man I loved was gone.

And for the first time, I was afraid of him.

I couldn’t breathe. My hands trembled. His words hit harder than a slap. My stomach twisted; the air felt thick, choking. I searched his eyes for the man I’d married, but all I saw was a stranger.

Why was my husband asking who the father of my baby was?

Who else could it be… if not him?