I Raised My Husband's Love Child...Then He Shot Me

Chapter 32

Her mother's triumphant voice crackled through the phone.

"Wendy! I did it! Jonathan promised to marry you—in front of all the reporters!"

Wendy clutched the bedsheets, her knuckles white.

"Are you out of your mind? Pulling a stunt like that…"

"What are you so scared of? I did it for you! That woman, Daphne—"

But Wendy didn't hear the rest. The room spun, the phone slipped from her hand, and everything went dark as she collapsed onto the bed.

It was over. Completely over.

She knew Jonathan too well. He never bowed to pressure. Her mother's outburst would only push him further away.

Once the baby was born, she'd probably be tossed aside.

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the divorce agreement on the table. Jonathan's signature was still wet.

The clerk handed us the filing receipt, his tone detached.

"Come back in a month to finalize after the mandatory cooling-off period."

After pulling Nora off the rooftop, I didn't give Jonathan a chance to make excuses. I drove myself straight to City Hall.

Jonathan sat across from me, absently tapping his fingers on the table, eyes locked on my face.

"Daphne… this one month—"

"There's nothing left to say."

I slid the receipt into my purse and stood.

He followed me out, catching up to block my path on the steps.

"At least let me drive you."

"No thanks." I stepped around him and walked toward a waiting taxi.

"Mr. Zander, maybe focus on your pregnant girlfriend instead."

At the Zander estate, Dean finally let out a sigh of relief.

"One month? Good. That's enough time to line up some blind dates for you."

Jonathan tugged at his tie, irritated.

"Dad, the whole city knows about Wendy now. Who's going to—"

"I've already arranged meetings with the Zimmer, Carter, and Scott families," his father cut in coldly. "When the benefits are big enough, people will line up to marry into the family."

Jonathan couldn't argue, so he went along with it—reluctantly—hoping the women would all turn him down.

He still thought of himself as the loyal husband he used to be.

But the first woman cut right to the point.

"Mr. Zander, is it true your ex-wife divorced you because you cheated?"

The sound of his fork scraping against the plate was jarring.

"I'm just curious," she said with a tilt of her head. "How did you manage to cheat on your wife with two different women—and still have them fight over you?"

The second woman didn't even sit down.

"My father wants this business deal, so I showed up," she said flatly.

"But for the record, I'm not into public restrooms."

She turned away, eyes cold behind oversized sunglasses.

After seven humiliating rejections in a row, Jonathan stormed home and slammed the door shut. His eyes were red with frustration.

What the hell were these women thinking?

He used to be the most sought-after bachelor in the city.

If I had been there, I probably would've laughed.

Back then, people said I was lucky—Jonathan Zander was the perfect husband. Loving, devoted, sincere. Everyone envied me.

But now? That so-called perfect husband had become nothing but a disgrace.

Yvonne descended the spiral staircase in a silk robe, a glass of red wine in her hand, swaying with practiced grace.

"Struck out again, huh?" she murmured with a smirk. "Poor baby."

"Shut up." Jonathan grabbed the bottle from the bar and drank straight from it.

"If it weren't for—"

"If it weren't for me, what?"

Yvonne stepped closer, her fingers tracing his chest.

"Did I force you to sleep with Wendy? Did I make you cheat on Daphne again and again?"

Jonathan shoved her away.

"You know I was drunk that night!"

"But you weren't drunk after that," Yvonne said, backing him into the couch, her smile sharp and knowing.