The Man I’m Marrying Has a Son with Another Woman

“Hi, I’d like to fake a plane crash. I need my identity to disappear for good.”

The staff stared at my ID, passing it back and forth like they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Finally, one of them spoke up, cautiously.

“Miss Swindell, faking a plane crash is irreversible. If you regret it later, there’s no going back.”

Their reaction wasn’t so different from when Ritchie Camfermann announced he wanted to marry me.

Back then, the legendary Ritchie pulled me into his world like crazy. For five years, he was nothing but devoted, shutting down every rumor with his actions.

He donated billions in my name—charity after charity—just to make me happy, just to wish me peace. Everywhere I went, there were people ready to help me, all because of him.

He took care of everything, every detail, and somehow found his way into my heart.

He even begged for my parents’ approval, enduring humiliation in front of everyone under the family’s rules. A man like him, who always weighed every choice, threw everything away—cut ties with his family—just so he could marry me.

Thinking about all of this, I signed my name firmly to the paper. “I won’t regret this. And I won’t drag you into it, either.”

The wedding was in seven days.

It was also the birthday of Ritchie’s son with another woman.

——

When I got home, the overwhelming red decorations were everywhere, mocking me and this ridiculous relationship.

Because no one else knew the truth. No one but me knew that this perfect man—the one everyone envied—had secretly had a child with another woman and already started a new family.

My eyes landed on the family photo on the coffee table. The pain in my chest grew unbearable, and I couldn’t catch my breath. The taste of blood filled my mouth as everything blurred. I collapsed, heavy and hard, to the floor.

When I opened my eyes again, Ritchie was by my bedside. His face was tight with worry as he cradled my head, his hands warming the IV bag like he couldn’t trust anyone else to do it.

When he saw me awake, he looked so relieved he couldn’t even form words. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing his face to mine, his voice trembling as his tears welled up.

“You’re awake… You scared me to death.”

Outside the room, his assistant must’ve heard the movement because he rushed in with the doctor.

Shaking his head in awe, the assistant muttered, “Miss Swindell, you have no idea. Back when Sir Ritchie was in Milan, he wouldn’t even flinch if someone pointed a gun at him. But when he heard you were hurt? He nearly collapsed.”

“Miss Swindell, he pushed aside business deals worth billions and rushed back home. He hasn’t left your side for two days, not even to sleep.”

The man in front of me—so full of worry—made my chest ache. It was hard to breathe like my heart was being squeezed by an invisible hand.

His actions, his instincts—they weren’t lies.

But the way he panicked like this… I’d seen it before. For someone else.

That woman was Esther Seacrest. She was the one who came from his world, his match in every way. When she found out Ritchie had chosen me over her, she tore me apart.

She humiliated me. Hit me so badly my bones broke. Tossed me into a freezing pool one winter, leaving me infertile for life.

When Ritchie returned and learned what she’d done, he crushed her family in days. He sent her to the ICU again and again, ignoring their history and their families’ ties.

And yet, no matter how much he loved me, I couldn’t deny the truth when it was staring me in the face.

Esther had his child. Their baby was almost two.

I pulled away from Ritchie’s touch without thinking, tears slipping down my face uncontrollably. My voice caught in my throat, and I couldn’t get a word out.

Ritchie froze, unsure of what to do. His hands hesitated in the air before he gently patted my back, trying to calm me.

“Portia,” he said, his tone low, “I have good news. The doctor said… you’re three months pregnant. We’re finally having a baby!”