Pregnant... and So Is His Mistress!

Chapter 6

Max flat-out refused to sign the divorce papers. I didn't push him on it. Instead, I handed everything over to my lawyer and let them handle the filing.

I also submitted my resignation. I knew Max wouldn't approve, so I just applied for an extended leave instead. After all the years I'd spent helping him build his business, I hadn't taken a single proper break.

One evening, I stood at the front door, suitcase in hand, unsure if I should knock. Before I could make up my mind, the door swung open on its own.

My mom was stepping out with a bag of groceries. She looked up and froze for a moment, then her expression immediately shifted to something cold.

"Why are you here alone? Where's Max?" she asked, already sounding annoyed.

When I didn't answer, she snorted, clearly assuming the worst. "Had a fight with Max, huh? Came crawling back home, crying?"

I stayed silent, and she wasted no time tearing into me.

"People go home with success, but you... you come back when everything falls apart," she scoffed, her voice cutting through the air.

"I must've done something really bad in my past life to end up with a daughter like you," she went on, her words stinging like a slap. "Can't keep a man, can't have kids. Been married for years and still didn't bring any money home. What good are you to me?"

I couldn't keep quiet anymore. "Max and I give you thousands every year when we visit," I snapped. "Don't act like we don't help."

She sneered, clearly unimpressed. "You call that money?" she hissed. "You've been with him all these years and that's all you've got to show for it? How cheap are you?"

I felt my blood boil, but she wasn't done yet. "If I'd known you'd end up like this, I should've sent you out to sell yourself sooner. At least then, I'd have gotten something out of it!"

The words kept coming, harsh and relentless, like bullets fired from a gun. I stood there, numb, letting her unload on me. There was no point in arguing, no point in hoping for anything different. She wasn't ever going to change.

Finally, I turned to leave, but just as I did, she called out after me. Before I could react, she tossed a bucket of cold water at my feet.

"Your brother's winter break is coming up," she said, her tone dripping with malice. "I'm washing away your bad luck so you don't drag him down."

And then, like a final blow, she added, "If Max's business doesn't bring in at least a million this year, don't bother coming back for New Year's."

I kept walking, but her voice followed me like a shadow. "And you better be saving up for your brother's apartment in a good school district when he gets married. Don't waste money on useless things!"

My fists clenched, but I didn't say a word. I didn't even bother telling her about the divorce. I guess I'd been away too long, fooling myself into thinking she might offer some comfort. But I should've known better.

Max always believed I'd never leave him. And maybe he was right. He knew I didn't have anywhere else to go. Not anymore.