After I got pregnant, my husband became obsessed with his young, delicate secretary. On New Year’s Eve, he was in a private suite, “ringing in the new year” with his secretary, who was poured into a slinky red dress. When I burst in, she tilted her head back, displaying a constellation of angry red love bites on her pale neck. “Oh, Mrs. Brolin, don’t misunderstand! A new year is coming. I’m just helping Arthur cleanse all the bad luck for a fresh start.” My husband, irritated at the interruption, just grumbled. “You’re pregnant, you can’t satisfy me. I’m a normal man. I have needs, and Charlotte is just kind enough to help me out.” I was seven months pregnant. The shock sent a jolt through my body, and my water broke. The secretary sneered, accusing me of peeing my pants on purpose just to embarrass my husband. Furious at the humiliation, my husband locked me in the bathroom. He and his little secretary spent the next three days and nights together before he decided my punishment was over. But when he finally came home and saw my now-flat stomach, he lost his mind. 1 It was New Year’s Eve. My husband, Arthur Brolin, was out celebrating with his buddies. I, being pregnant, stayed home. As midnight approached, I received a text from him with an address. Wifey, I have a surprise for you. My heart filled with joy as I hailed a cab, my seven-month belly making the simple act of moving feel like a chore. I rushed to the exclusive club, imagining a sweet, romantic gesture. That bubble of happiness was instantly burst by a bucket of ice-cold reality. The private suite was a haze of expensive cigar smoke and the glittering chaos of a high-roller's party. Arthur’s little secretary, Charlotte, was perched on his lap, her eyes hazy with desire, the tips of her ears flushed a deep red. She was a vision of pure, yet provocative, innocence. The veins on Arthur’s right hand bulged as he gripped her waist, her dress hiked up to her hips, one shoulder bare and gleaming. That red silk dress… it was a one-of-a-kind custom piece a famous designer had made for our wedding reception. A treasure. Now, he was using it as a prop for his sordid thrills. The sliver of Charlotte’s pale, slender waist was a knife twisting in my gut. “Arthur, darling, be gentle with me… a little slower,” she purred. “You little liar,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You beg me for it five times a day, so why pretend to be so innocent now?” They kissed, a deep, tangled mess of limbs and lips, completely oblivious to the world around them. The others in the room didn't even blink. I think I knew, then, who had really sent me that text. Arthur’s friends, each with a girl draped over them, watched the scene with amused, knowing smirks. One of them, Trevor, raised his glass. “Damn, that’s some killer New Year’s Eve battle armor, Charlotte. No wonder Arthur was willing to ditch the missus tonight.” Arthur tightened his grip on Charlotte’s waist, letting out a breathy chuckle. “You marry the respectable one, but you fuck the fun one. There are some things Josie just won’t do, so I have to find an outlet. I know where my priorities lie.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried across the room. “Besides, since she got pregnant, Josie’s ballooned up. Honestly, it kills my appetite just looking at her. She’s got none of the fire that Charlotte has.” Charlotte’s manicured fingers traced circles on Arthur’s chest as she pouted playfully. “Arthur, you’re awful. What do you take me for? I’m a good girl, you know.” “Yes, yes, you are. Happy New Year, my darling girl.” Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a stunningly expensive diamond necklace, slipping it down the front of Charlotte’s messy dress. Her delighted giggles echoed in the suddenly quiet room. Someone joked, “Careful, Arthur. Aren’t you afraid Mrs. Brolin will find out and divorce you?” He just shrugged. “So what if she finds out? She loves me too much. Besides, where’s she gonna go, pregnant with my kid?” Their filthy flirtations resumed, punctuated by the cheers of his friends. “Arthur Brolin, you’re the fucking man!” My stomach churned, a wave of nausea washing over me. My face as pale as a ghost, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. My arrival shattered the laughter. Arthur quickly grabbed a jacket from the sofa and draped it over Charlotte’s shoulders. The irony was so thick I could taste it. I clenched my fists, my voice shaking with rage. “What’s the matter? She’s brave enough to ride you in front of a crowd, but you’re afraid to let her show a little shoulder?” “Don’t talk like that,” he snapped. “She’s a young girl. Have some decency.” Charlotte, now safely shielded by my husband, shot me a defiant look. “We’re just ringing in the new year, Josie. Out with the old, in with the new. You should try to understand.” The others scrambled to smooth things over, shooting me pleading looks, begging me to let Arthur save face. “Josie, we were just playing Truth or Dare! Things got a little wild, we’ve all had a bit too much to drink. We’ll do three shots right now to apologize. Just forgive Arthur, okay?” 2 I didn’t move. I didn’t say a word. Arthur’s face darkened with displeasure, his tone laced with blame. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay home and rest.” It felt like a thousand tiny needles were pricking my heart. I couldn't believe this was the same man who had joyfully helped me decorate the nursery, who was now shielding another woman while spewing venom at me. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood before I could speak. “Arthur, you’re the one who said it. A cheater deserves to die a horrible death.” His expression turned ugly. “Watch your mouth, Josie. Charlotte and I are just… scratching an itch. You’ve let yourself go since you got pregnant. The fact that I can even stand to sleep next to you is a testament to my patience.” “Besides,” he scoffed, “in our circle, who doesn’t have someone on the side? At least I plan on coming back home to you after the baby’s born.” I cradled my belly, a wave of despair and fury rising within me. Pregnancy had inevitably made me gain weight, my legs swelling until they looked like carrots. I suffered from excruciating leg cramps in the middle of the night and was tormented by morning sickness that kept me awake for hours. My once-smooth skin had become rough and sallow. Arthur’s initial sympathy had curdled into impatience. He started “working late” every night. The disgust in his eyes whenever he glanced at the angry purple stretch marks on my stomach was impossible to miss. For the sake of our child, I pretended not to see it. I kept telling myself, it’ll be better once the baby is born. But how could he use the suffering I endured for him, for our child, as a weapon to belittle me? I shouldn’t have to stay with a monster for the sake of a child. “Arthur,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Let’s get a divorce.” His condescending smirk froze on his face. His voice held a note of absolute certainty. “Divorce? You’re pregnant with my child. Where would you go? As long as you two can get along, the title of Mrs. Brolin will always be yours.” Seeing the shattered look on my face, he softened his tone, as if speaking to a difficult pet. “Be a good girl, Josie. I promise you, the only Brolin heir will come from your belly.” Charlotte squirmed on his lap, feigning discontent. “Arthur, darling, don’t make Josie angry because of me. She’s carrying your child, after all!” He gave her slender waist a sharp squeeze. “That woman doesn’t get to be difficult. She’s the one being overly dramatic.” Watching these two dogs flirt shamelessly in front of me, I couldn’t control the violent spasms in my stomach. “Retch… hork…” The contents of my stomach sprayed outwards, hitting Arthur and Charlotte, who were closest to me. Charlotte, in particular, was covered. The expensive jacket was drenched in foul-smelling vomit. Her eyes turned red. She tore off the jacket and screamed, “You bitch! Did you do that on purpose?!” My own rage erupted. I slapped her hard across the face. “Who are you calling a bitch?” She shrieked and shoved me with all her might. “Arthur, you have to stand up for me! This was my New Year’s dress! She ruined it!” A waiter rushed over with hot towels. Arthur shot me a warning look. “Josie. That’s enough.” The shove had sent me off-balance. My heavy, cumbersome body crashed to the floor. I struggled to get up, my movements clumsy and pathetic, a source of amusement for the onlookers. “Hey Arthur,” one of them snickered. “Doesn’t Josie look like a turtle on its back, trying to get up?” “A fat turtle! Hahaha!” Tears stung my eyes. Before I could even process the humiliation, a sharp, cramping pain shot through my abdomen. A warm gush of fluid flooded out from between my legs. I looked down. A large, dark patch was spreading across the plush carpet beneath me. Oh no… Instinctively, I cried out to Arthur for help. “Arthur! Get me to a hospital, now!” “My water just broke…” 3 The words sobered Arthur up instantly. He scrambled to his feet, a flash of pity and regret in his eyes. “Josie, don’t be scared. I’ll take you to the hospital right now.” But then Charlotte’s voice, dripping with saccharine malice, cut through the air. “I’m so jealous of you, Josie. No matter what lies you tell, Arthur will always believe you without a second thought.” Arthur shook off the pale, slender hands that were wrapped around his waist, his voice like ice. “Get off me. If anything happens to my wife, you’ll be the one I hold responsible.” Shoved aside, Charlotte draped herself dramatically over the sofa. Undeterred, she used her red-stockinged foot to rub against his leg. “Arthur, darling, can’t you see? Josie was just so worked up she peed her pants.” “She’s only seven months along. It’s not her due date. How could her water have broken?” His friends clicked their tongues and shook their heads, their disgust palpable. “I heard pregnant women often lose control of their bladder. I guess it’s true.” “Can’t even control her own piss. No wonder Arthur needed to find a new plaything.” Arthur’s motion to pick me up halted. He let out a long breath, and the momentary concern on his face was replaced by a wave of furious embarrassment. He grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at my head. “Disgusting! To get my attention, you’d resort to any cheap trick, wouldn’t you?!” “No, it’s not a trick! I’m really in labor! My stomach hurts so much…” He watched me writhe on the floor, his eyes cold, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A very convincing performance. If Charlotte hadn’t pointed it out, I might have actually fallen for it.” Charlotte’s eyes danced with glee. She threw herself into his arms, cooing, “Hmph. I’m your smartest little secretary, aren’t I?” The pain was so intense my voice trembled. “Help me… the baby… save the baby… Please, someone, call an ambulance.” Trevor let out a derisive snort. “Wow, Josie’s really committed to the bit. Pissing all over the floor and now she wants to waste medical resources.” Charlotte added fuel to the fire. “Imagine if word got out that Mrs. Brolin wet herself in public. What would that do to your reputation, Arthur? Josie, you’re being so thoughtless.” The thick cigarette smoke in the room made my head spin. A chilling realization washed over me. No one was going to help me. Ignoring the searing pain in my belly, I gritted my teeth and began to crawl toward my handbag a few feet away. My phone was in there. I could save myself. The sound of their laughter followed me, a chorus of mockery. “Damn, Arthur, your wife’s acting is top-notch. She deserves an Oscar!” “Maybe you should go comfort her, man! If she keeps pissing, she’s going to ruin the whole party.” Sweat poured down my face, soaking the hair at my temples. I ignored the taunts of the scum around me and finally, my fingers brushed against my purse. I fumbled inside, my hand closing around my phone. Just as my trembling finger was about to press the call button, Arthur’s shoe came down hard on my hand, kicking the phone across the room. “Enough! Are you insane? It’s New Year’s Eve, and you’re trying to harass emergency responders.” The pain was blinding. I curled into a ball on the floor. “I’m really in labor. The baby’s only seven months… it’s dangerous. This is your child, too. Please, let me go to the hospital…” An unnatural, violent pain ripped through my stomach. I wasn’t sure if I’d landed on the baby when I fell. For the sake of the life inside me, I swallowed my pride. I reached out and grabbed the hem of his pants, my voice a pathetic whisper. “Give me my phone. I’ll call the ambulance myself. I’m begging you…” “This is your own flesh and blood.”
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