My Ex’s Fake Heir Is My Son

The master bedroom door stood slightly ajar. A muffled giggle drifted into the hallway, cutting through the quiet afternoon.

I pressed a hand to my swollen belly, easing the dull ache in my lower spine, and pushed the wood panel open.

Damon sat at the edge of our mattress. Mia, his supposedly indispensable secretary, straddled his lap. Her silk blouse lay discarded on my favorite reading chair.

"Get out of my bed," I said.

Damon jerked upward, nearly dumping Mia onto the rug. He smoothed his hands down his trousers. He did not look guilty. He looked annoyed.

"Serena." He swiped a hand across his jaw. "Why are you home early?"

"My doctor's appointment ended an hour ago. Good thing it did." I shifted my gaze to Mia. "Pick up your shirt and get out of my house."

Mia clutched a throw pillow to her chest. She shrank behind Damon's broad shoulder. "Damon, please. She is scaring me."

I laughed. A harsh, ugly sound that did not fit the tears burning my eyes. "You are half-naked in my bedroom, and I am scaring you?"

"Lower your voice," Damon snapped. He stepped in front of Mia, shielding her. "You are being hysterical."

"I am eight months pregnant, Damon! I just caught you cheating!"

"We were just talking," he lied, his tone entirely flat. "Mia was having a panic attack. I was comforting her."

"With your hands under her skirt?"

"You always twist things." Damon grabbed his dress shirt from the bedpost and yanked it on. "This is exactly why I despise being around you lately. The paranoia. The constant nagging."

"Paranoia?" I pointed a shaking finger at Mia. She buttoned her collar, a smug little smile playing on her lips before she hid it behind a tearful expression. "She is in our bedroom!"

"Because she needed a safe space!" Damon shouted.

I recoiled. The sheer absurdity of his words struck me like a physical blow.

"A safe space?" I repeated. "From what?"

"From her abusive ex-boyfriend," Damon said, his jaw tight. "Not that you would care. You only ever think about yourself."

"I am carrying your child!" I slapped my stomach. "I have been vomiting for months, going to appointments alone while you worked late with her. And you say I only think about myself?"

Mia sniffled loudly. "I should go, Damon. I do not want to ruin your marriage."

"You aren't going anywhere, Mia." Damon wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It is pouring outside. You will catch a cold."

"You think I haven't noticed?" I demanded, planting my feet on the carpet. "The late nights? The perfume on your collars? The credit card charges for restaurants I have never been to?"

"Client dinners," Damon countered smoothly.

"You bought jewelry at Tiffany's last week, Damon. Did you buy a diamond necklace for a client?"

Mia's hand drifted to her collarbone. A silver chain sparkled against her skin.

I let out another sharp bark of laughter. "Wow. You did not even try to hide it."

"It was a bonus," Damon said, his voice rising to drown me out. "For her hard work. She closed the Lawson account."

"And opened her legs to celebrate?"

"Shut your mouth!" Damon took a threatening step forward. "You are completely out of line, Serena."

"I am out of line? This is my house! This is my marriage!"

"It is my house," he corrected, his tone turning venomous. "My name is on the deed. My money pays the mortgage. You just sit around all day complaining about your swollen ankles."

"I am growing a human being!"

"Millions of women get pregnant. They do not all turn into raging, jealous monsters."

"Damon, do not fight with her," Mia whimpered, stepping up behind him and resting a hand on his back. "It is bad for the baby's stress levels. I will just leave."

"No." Damon caught her hand and squeezed it. "You stay. She needs to learn she cannot throw a tantrum and get her way."

I stared at the man I married three years ago. His familiar features felt entirely foreign.

"She leaves, or I call the police and have her removed for trespassing," I said.

Damon's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me." I reached into my purse for my phone.

Damon crossed the room in two strides. He snatched the device from my grip and tossed it onto the mattress.

"Enough!" he roared. "I am sick of this behavior, Serena. You use this pregnancy as an excuse to act like a tyrant."

"Give me my phone."

"No. You need a timeout. You need to calm down and realize how psychotic you sound."

"Psychotic?" I shoved his chest. He did not budge. "You brought your mistress into my home. You are defending her over your pregnant wife."

"Mia is a victim!"

"Mia is a homewrecker!"

Smack.

The sound echoed off the high ceiling. My cheek burned. My head snapped to the side.

I touched my face, my fingers trembling. He had never hit me before. Not once.

Damon stared at his own palm for a split second, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Then, his expression hardened into stone.

"You pushed me to that," he muttered. "You refuse to listen to reason."

"Damon..." Mia whispered from the bed, sounding genuinely thrilled beneath her fake concern. "Maybe she just needs some air."

"You are right." Damon grabbed my upper arm. His grip felt like a vise.

"Release me!" I thrashed, but the heavy weight of my belly threw off my balance.

"You are going to cool off outside," Damon said, dragging me toward the hallway.

"Damon, stop! You are hurting me!"

"I am protecting my peace," he shot back.

He pulled me down the stairs. My fuzzy slippers slid on the hardwood floor. I gripped the banister with my free hand, terrified of falling.

"Please, the baby!" I cried out.

He yanked me harder, prying my fingers from the wood. "The baby is fine. You are just using him to manipulate me again."

"You are out of your mind! You are choosing her over your family!"

"You stopped being my family the second you started acting like a lunatic."

"I caught you cheating!"

"I told you, we were talking!"

"She was straddling you!"

"She was dizzy! I was holding her up!"

The sheer audacity of his lies made my stomach churn. "Do you hear yourself? Do you think I am stupid?"

"I think you are crazy." He yanked me down the last three steps.

A sharp pain shot across my lower abdomen. I gasped, doubling over slightly. "Stop. My stomach. It hurts."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Always with the dramatics. The doctor said you were perfectly healthy yesterday."

"It is a cramp, Damon, please."

"Walk." He tugged my arm again.

We reached the foyer. The front door loomed ahead. Outside, thunder rattled the windowpanes. Rain lashed against the glass.

"It is storming, Damon. You cannot do this."

"Watch me." He twisted the deadbolt and shoved the heavy oak door open.

A gust of freezing wind swept into the entryway, soaking the hem of my maternity dress instantly.

"Get out." He pushed me onto the covered porch.

I stumbled, catching myself against one of the brick pillars to keep from falling onto my stomach. Cold rain blasted my face.

"Damon, please!" I turned back, grabbing the doorframe. "My phone. My keys. Allow me to get my coat."

"You do not need a coat to stand on the porch and think about what you have done."

Mia appeared in the hallway behind him. She had my favorite cashmere shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

"I will make us some tea, Damon," she purred.

"Thank you, Mia." He looked back at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "Do not bother knocking until you are ready to apologize to her."

"Apologize? I hope you both rot!"

Damon shoved my shoulder one last time. "Enjoy the rain, Serena."

The door slammed shut. The deadbolt clicked into place.

The rain poured in sheets, blowing sideways across the porch. The temperature had dropped ten degrees since I arrived home.

I banged my fists against the heavy wood. "Damon! Open the door!"

Silence answered from the other side.

"Damon!"

My knuckles throbbed. The icy wind cut through my thin cotton dress, raising goosebumps along my arms. I wrapped my arms around my belly, trying to shield my unborn child from the biting cold.

I peered through the frosted glass sidelight. Damon and Mia walked back toward the stairs. His arm rested securely around her waist. He never looked back.

"You bastard!" I screamed, my voice swallowed by a massive crack of thunder.

Water pooled around my slippers, freezing my toes. The sharp ache in my abdomen flared again, tighter this time. A hard, seizing pain that stole the air from my lungs.

I leaned against the brick wall, sliding down until I sat on the wet concrete.

The pain did not fade. It grew sharper, radiating through my lower back.

I looked down through the darkness and the driving rain. A dark stain spread across the hem of my dress, washing away into the puddles around me.

Blood.