His Pregnant Mistress Came to My House

Vanessa lasted six days.

On the seventh, she came to my apartment with a medical report in one hand and victory in her eyes.

She threw the report onto my coffee table.

“I’m pregnant.”

I glanced at it.

Then at her.

“Congratulations.”

Her expression faltered.

“With Callum’s child.”

“I know.”

That took the shine out of her victory.

Only for a second.

Then she looked around my apartment—the marble floors, the city view, the velvet sofa she used to compliment whenever she visited.

Her envy was so naked it was almost embarrassing.

“I used to hate how you showed off this place,” she said. “Always pretending you didn’t care about money when you had everything.”

I leaned back.

“I don’t remember asking.”

“Soon, I’ll be the woman of this house.”

I laughed.

She did not like that.

“Callum already said he’ll divorce you. He wants to give me and the baby a home.”

“Did he?”

“Yes.”

“How touching.”

“You should move out before he returns. Leave yourself some dignity.”

I picked up my phone and checked an email.

Vanessa’s voice rose.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“Then say something.”

I looked up.

“He agreed to divorce. I didn’t.”

Her face twisted.

“How shameless can you be? He doesn’t love you anymore.”

“Then he can tell me after he leaves the sanatorium.”

“He will.”

I smiled.

“Are you sure he can leave?”

Before Vanessa could answer, my phone rang.

Silvermoon Sanatorium.

Perfect timing.

I answered and put it on speaker.

The healer’s voice came through.

“Mrs. Voss, your husband had another violent episode today.”

Vanessa made a sound so sharp the healer stopped speaking.

I covered the microphone.

“My kettle,” I said calmly. “It whistles.”

Vanessa glared at me through tears.

The healer continued.

“His condition has deteriorated since the treatment change. We strongly recommend resuming the previous stabilizing regimen.”

I switched instantly into my grieving-wife voice.

“Healer, I understand. But our family is truly struggling.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened.

“We have no money,” I sobbed. “If I spend everything on Callum, my entire family will have nowhere to go.”

The healer sounded confused.

“Mr. Voss insists—”

“My husband is ill,” I cried. “He says many things.”

By the time I hung up, Vanessa was shaking.

“You have money,” she hissed.

“Do I?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

I smiled.

“No. I’m poor.”

“You just don’t want to treat him.”

“Then you treat him.”

She stared at me.

“He is your husband.”

“How convenient. When you want my money, he is my husband. When you want my house, he is your baby’s father.”

Her mouth opened, then closed.

I stood and walked to the door.

“Vanessa, you wanted my life. Start with the hospital bills.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I can.”

I opened the door.

“And you should hurry. Every minute you argue with me is another minute Callum suffers.”

For the first time since I had known her, Vanessa looked truly afraid.

I handed her a tissue.

She reached for it automatically.

I smiled.

“Serves you right.”