My family has a strict trust fund rule: regardless of gender, every heir must hide their identity and live a humble life. The first descendant to get pregnant and secure the next generation will be the one to inherit the entire family empire. I was the very first one in my generation to see those two pink lines on the pregnancy test. The moment I got the positive report, I was so ecstatic that I ran all the way home without even putting on a coat. With this baby, I could finally stop hiding my identity and end this miserable, penny-pinching life with him. And his struggling little startup would no longer have to worry about next month’s rent. But when I pushed the front door open, I saw a woman sitting at our dining table, sipping tea that my husband had brewed for her. Without even looking up, Ethan Vance said, "Iris is back. Good. Let's get the divorce papers signed." I quietly slipped the pregnancy test back into my pocket. What Ethan didn't know was that the "poor, penniless wife" who had suffered by his side stood before a world he could never reach in his entire lifetime. Fine. I’ll keep the baby, ditch the father, and never see him again. 0
"The divorce agreement is on the coffee table. The pen is right next to it." Ethan’s tone was completely flat. Chloe Brooks was sitting in my usual spot. She glanced at me, the corners of her mouth curving into a smug little smirk, but she said nothing. That look of hers instantly reminded me of a parasite occupying a host's nest. I walked over and picked up the agreement. Three pages, densely packed with text. The house went to Ethan. The company shares went to Ethan. The savings went to Ethan. The car went to Ethan. I got absolutely nothing. "I walk away with nothing?" Ethan finally spared me a glance. "The agreement states you'll get a lump-sum compensation of thirty thousand dollars. That’s more than fair." Thirty thousand. I had been married to this man for three years. Ten thousand dollars a year. Chloe set her teacup down. "Iris, thirty thousand is enough for you to rent a decent studio apartment." She called me Iris, but her tone carried a patronizing pity. I stared at her. "When did you get back?" "Yesterday," Chloe tilted her head, smiling sweetly. "Ethan picked me up from the airport. He waited for four hours because my flight was delayed." Yesterday. Yesterday, Ethan told me he had to work late at the office for an emergency. Chloe stood up, walked over to Ethan, and naturally wrapped her arm around his. "Ethan said you're a good person. He said you wouldn't make things difficult for us." Ethan didn't pull away from her touch. The pregnancy test pressed hard against my thigh through my pocket, leaving a dull ache. I had originally run home to tell him, *Ethan, we’re having a baby.* *You don't have to lose sleep over the office rent anymore. You don't have to drink yourself to a stomach bleed just to please clients.* I thought today was going to be the best day of our lives. "Where's the pen?" I asked. Ethan pointed to the coffee table. I bent down to grab the pen. From this angle, I could see Chloe’s hand resting intimately on Ethan's lower back. As I uncapped the pen, the pregnancy test almost slid out of my pocket. I quickly pressed it back down. "Sign on the last page. Put today's date," Ethan’s voice came from above me. I signed my name. *Iris Miller.* I put the pen down and stood up. "Fine. But we still need to go to the courthouse tomorrow to make the dissolution official." "Tomorrow at 9:00 AM. I'll meet you there," Ethan said, pulling out his phone. Right in front of my face, he unlocked it and opened his contacts. He changed my contact name from "Wife" to "Iris Miller." Then he locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket. Chloe leaned her head on his shoulder. "Ethan, I want that garlic butter steak and mashed potatoes you promised me." "Sure. I bought some fresh ribeyes. I’ll make it for you." Ethan actually turned and walked into the kitchen. We had been married for three years, and he had never cooked a single meal for me. Whenever I asked him if he could cook, he always said he didn't know how, claiming he would burn the kitchen down even if he just boiled instant ramen. But now, the way he tied his apron was smoother than a pro chef. Chloe shrugged at me. "Iris, don't just stand there. Pack up your stuff and go. I’m having decorators come in tomorrow to remodel. I saw your clothes in the closet—they're so old and tacky. Don't bother taking them. Honestly, they're too cheap to even use as cleaning rags." I went into the bedroom, took my ID, and packed a small canvas bag. It held only a few sentimental items I had brought from my family when I married him. None of it had anything to do with Ethan. As I walked past the kitchen on my way out, Ethan was chopping herbs on the cutting board. The knife made a steady, rhythmic sound. He didn't look up once. I stood at the doorway to change my shoes. Chloe followed me, leaning against the doorframe. "Iris, there's something I think you should know." "Go ahead," I said. "When Ethan was with me, he never sighed. But during these past three years with you, I heard him sigh so many times over the phone." She lowered her gaze, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Maybe you two were just never meant to be." I looked at her. Ethan sighed because his cash flow was blocked, because clients canceled orders, and because his startup was constantly on the verge of bankruptcy. And every single time he faced a crisis, I secretly pulled strings to resolve it. He would wake up the next morning finding all his problems magically solved, genuinely believing it was just "good luck." "You're right," I said, bending down to tie my sneakers. "We were never meant to be." As the door clicked shut behind me, I heard Chloe’s voice drift from inside. "Ethan, let's change the smart lock passcode. I want to set it to our anniversary." 0
I moved into a tiny, eight-hundred-dollar studio near the university campus. The window faced a busy burger joint downstairs, and the smell of grease constantly seeped through the cracks. I sat on the hard mattress, staring at the pregnancy test for a long time. The two pink lines were blindingly clear. My phone rang. It was Ethan. "Iris, you haven't canceled the corporate credit card yet." "I'll handle it tomorrow when we go to the courthouse." "Fine." Just as I was about to hang up, I heard Chloe’s voice in the background: "Ethan, ask her about the office keycard. I saw it in her bag last time." Ethan hesitated for a second. "Bring the keycard with you tomorrow too." "Anything else?" I asked. "That's all for now." He hung up. My screen was still lit, displaying our three years of chat history. The very first message he had ever sent me was: *Miss Miller, thank you so much for saving my skin today.* That day, he was negotiating with a difficult client who suddenly hiked up the price, leaving Ethan sweating in panic. I happened to be there. Quietly, I rewrote the contract terms for him, and the client signed on the spot. Ethan had no idea that the client was actually a close business associate of my family. He only knew me as a grocery store cashier who made fifteen dollars an hour. For three years of marriage, I had played that role perfectly. The next morning, Ethan's mother called. "Iris, have you finished packing your junk?" "Almost." "Leave those cheap clothes of yours behind. They’re trash anyway. Also, Chloe said she really liked that secret marinara sauce you used to make. Leave the recipe on the counter." I had made that marinara sauce for three years. Ethan ate it every single morning, and his mother had never once complimented me. "No," I replied flatly. "Excuse me?" Helen's voice instantly turned sharp. "You're already divorced, and you're still being this petty? Do you have any idea who Chloe is? Her family asking for your recipe is a compliment!" "Oh? And who is she?" "Chloe’s family runs a major import-export business in the capital! Do you honestly think everyone is a low-life cashier like you?" Helen sneered over the phone. "Iris, let me be honest with you. I was never happy when Ethan married you. Sure, you were obedient these past three years, but a man needs to climb. Ethan's company is taking off now, and you're just dead weight." "Chloe and Ethan were college sweethearts. They belong together. Now that she's back, stop blocking their way." Last year, when Ethan’s company was about to go bankrupt due to a massive bad debt, and he couldn't even pay his employees' salaries, I was the one who secretly cleared the debt through my family’s channels. Ethan thought the debtor had suddenly found their conscience and paid him back. He had come home ecstatic that night, hugging me and saying, *Babe, we have the best luck in the world.* "Mrs. Vance, I am not giving you the recipe. Is there anything else?" Helen slammed the phone down in fury. Half an hour later, a text from Ethan popped up on my Snapchat: *My mom said you were rude to her. We’re already divorced, Iris. Don't make this uglier than it needs to be.* I didn't reply. I flipped my phone face down on the bed and gently stroked my stomach. In three months, I would start showing. By then, I would return to the Sterling family as the sole heir who successfully secured the next generation, taking over everything. Ethan’s hard-earned company was worth maybe three million dollars. To the Sterling family, that wasn't even pocket change. That afternoon, I went to the hospital to set up my prenatal files. While waiting in line, my phone rang again. It was Chloe, calling from Ethan's phone. "Hi Iris, sorry to bother you. But I found a bottle of prenatal folic acid in our bedroom. I wanted to ask if it's yours, or if it was left by the previous owner?" Folic acid. I had been taking it while trying to conceive. My grip tightened on the phone. "Throw it away. It’s expired." "Great. Oh, and Ethan wanted me to double-check—are you definitely canceling that credit card tomorrow?" "Yes." "Awesome. Bye, Iris!" After hanging up, my hands were shaking. Not out of anger, but out of fear. Chloe had found the prenatal vitamins. "Will she figure it out?" I stared at the phone, whispering to myself. No one answered. 0
The day my prenatal report came out, I sat on the hospital corridor bench, lost in thought. The doctor said everything was perfect. The baby was healthy. I just needed to eat well and get plenty of rest. *The baby is healthy.* I repeated those words in my head three times. "Iris?" I looked up. Chloe was standing at the end of the hallway, holding a bag of fruit. She smiled and walked over. "What a coincidence. You’re at this hospital too?" "What are you doing here?" I asked coldly. "Visiting a friend." She sat down next to me, her eyes casually scanning my hands. I quickly flipped my medical report over, but her sharp eyes had already caught the header. "OB-GYN department?" Chloe’s tone instantly shifted. The sweet, fake warmth vanished. She stared intently at my face. "Iris, don't tell me you're..." "It’s none of your business." "You're pregnant?" I stood up. "Chloe, this is none of your concern." "Of course it's my concern," she sneered, standing up to face me. "If that's Ethan’s baby, it is absolutely my business." People were walking past us in the hallway. She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a harsh whisper. "Iris, were you planning on hiding this and raising the kid secretly? And then what? Use the child to blackmail Ethan?" "I don't need to blackmail anyone." "But Ethan won't want this baby anyway," Chloe said, her voice dripping with malice. "He told me himself—he wants his child to be born into a complete, loving family. And the family he chose has no room for you." "He told you that?" "He tells me everything." Chloe pulled out her phone and played a voice memo. Ethan's voice came through the speaker: *Chloe, once this busy season is over, we'll have a beautiful wedding. Don't worry about anything else right now. Just focus on settling into our home.* "Hear that? He’s already planning our wedding. If you crawl back now with a baby bump, everyone will just see you as a desperate ex-wife who refuses to let go." I took a deep, steady breath. Chloe watched my reaction, seemingly confirming her suspicions. "Iris, let me give you some advice. Get an abortion and let’s go our separate ways. I won't tell Ethan, and no one else has to know." "And if I refuse?" "Then I’ll tell him myself. How do you think he’ll react?" She reached into her designer bag and handed me a white envelope. "What's this?" "Open it and see." Inside the envelope was an ultrasound scan. The name printed at the top was Chloe Brooks. The date was from two weeks ago. It clearly stated: *Intrauterine pregnancy, 7 weeks.* "I’m pregnant too," Chloe said, her fake smile completely gone, replaced by a cold, arrogant stare. "Ethan already knows. He’s ecstatic. He already bought a ton of baby gear." "So, do you get it now? His firstborn can only be mine." I stared at the ultrasound. Seven weeks. But Chloe only returned to the country yesterday. Seven weeks ago, she was still in Europe. Yet, the stamp on this ultrasound was from our local city hospital. The timeline was physically impossible. But I kept my mouth shut. Now wasn't the time to expose her. "Think about it," Chloe said, patting my shoulder patronizingly. "Before things get messy." She turned and sauntered away. I clutched the fake ultrasound in my hand. *You claim you're pregnant too. Seven weeks ago, you were across the ocean, but your scan is stamped by our local clinic.* "Chloe Brooks, what kind of game are you playing?"
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