He Made Me Serve His Pregnant Mistress

In the third year of our marriage, my husband brought home a heavily pregnant woman. She wore a cheap, frayed tank top, her belly swelling proudly. Ethan had a smug grin plastered across his face. "She's carrying my baby boy. Starting tomorrow, quit your job to take care of her. And hand-wash her underwear every day." Fury surged through my veins. I stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a heavy chef's knife, and marched back out. "In your fucking dreams! I'll chop both of you cheating bastards into pieces right now!" The moment the words left my mouth, glowing lines of text suddenly floated across my vision like live comments: [Girl, don't be reckless! That baby belongs to the billionaire CEO of the Sterling Group! She took his money and ran!] [Next month, Mr. Sterling will track her down. To thank you for protecting his only heir, he'll write you a check for fifty million dollars!] [Your husband is taking the fall for another man's kid—and he's going to end up completely broke!] My eyes flicked back to the woman's protruding belly. Something truly didn't add up. I lowered the knife, plastering on the sweetest, most flattering smile I could muster. "Why didn't you just say so? A new addition to our family is a blessing! The more, the merrier!" I snatched the suitcase right out of Ethan's hand, smiling brighter than the midday sun. "She’s carrying the heir to your legacy! She’s our family’s greatest hero." "Please, don't just stand there, sweetie. We can’t have my precious little nephew getting tired." I stepped forward and gently took her arm, my fingers grazing the cheap, pilled fabric of her tank top. The woman froze. Ethan froze, too. He had braced himself for a screaming match, the veins in his neck already bulging with anticipation. Now, he looked like a popped balloon, completely deflated and caught off guard. "Chloe, did you lose your mind?" Ethan eyed me with deep suspicion, his guard fully up. "What do you know?" I rolled my eyes playfully at him, carefully guiding the woman over to the couch. "I’m just being practical." "Three years of marriage and I haven't given you a baby. Now that someone else is willing to do the heavy lifting, I couldn't be happier!" The floating comments drifted past again: [Brilliant acting!] [Yes! Play the long game, queen!] I eased the woman down onto the sofa and turned to pour her a glass of water. "By the way, sweetie, what's your name?" She stroked her belly, tilting her chin up with pure arrogance. "I'm Amber." "Ethan told me that once I give birth to his son, you'll be out on the street." Taking the glass, she deliberately flashed the thick gold band on her ring finger. Ethan had just bought it for her a few days ago, blowing half his monthly salary on it. I sneered inwardly, but forced a look of flustered concern onto my face. "Oh, goodness, no! That won't do." "Amber, darling, you're eating for two now. You shouldn't stress your pretty little head over petty household drama." "Just relax and focus on the baby. I promise to pamper you like royalty." Seeing how submissive I was, Ethan finally let his guard down. He sprawled across the armchair like a king, yanking his tie loose. "Glad to see you finally know your place." "Chloe, hand in your two weeks' notice tomorrow." "Amber can't stomach takeout. You need to buy fresh organic chicken every morning to make slow-cooked bone broth for her." "And her delicates must be hand-washed. Don't you dare throw them in the machine." I nodded eagerly. "Of course, whatever she needs." I turned my gaze to Ethan. "Though, now that I think about it, Amber is practically royalty in this house now. We can’t treat her like a pauper." "Look at this top—it's completely worn out. What if the scratchy fabric irritates that million-dollar belly?" Ethan started to glare at me, but Amber pouted pitifully. "Ethan, babe, see? I told you this cheap top was itchy!" Hypnotized by her whining, Ethan completely forgot to snap at me. He waved his hand with grand generosity. "We'll go shopping! Take my card to the mall tomorrow. Swipe whatever you want!" I lowered my head to hide the cold mockery in my eyes. Swipe whatever she wants? When that credit limit explodes, I can't wait to see how you pay it off! Early the next morning, I took Amber straight to the city's most upscale luxury mall. Ethan had only handed over a credit card with a five-thousand-dollar limit. I marched her right into Chanel. "Amber, look at this bag. It complements your aristocratic aura so well." I pointed at an eight-thousand-dollar limited-edition purse behind the glass. Amber's eyes widened with raw greed. "But... Ethan's card only has five grand on it." "What are you worried about?" I patted my chest boldly. "I'll cover the difference!" "Once you deliver his son, everything Ethan owns will belong to you anyway, right?" Flattered into complete delusion, Amber nodded vigorously. I put three thousand on my personal debit card and charged the remaining five thousand to Ethan's card. Of course, the three thousand from my card came straight out of Ethan’s business petty cash. With his brain consumed by visions of a "baby boy," he wasn't checking the company books anyway. Over the next few days, I played the part of Amber’s dedicated maid to perfection. Up at six in the morning to prepare fresh bone broth. Hand-washing her underwear every night. Whenever Ethan came home from work and saw this picture-perfect domestic bliss, he grinned from ear to ear. "See, Chloe? Wasn't it easier to just be obedient from the start?" He pinched Amber’s cheek, his eyes casting a condescending glance in my direction. "That's how it is for women. If you can't have a baby, you just have to accept your place!" I didn't utter a single word in protest.Amber grew bolder by the day, acting like she already owned the place. At first, she only demanded expensive cravings. Soon, she began picking apart my clothes, my cooking, and my very presence. "Chloe, isn't that robe a little old? Doesn't Ethan get sick of looking at you?" "This soup has zero flavor. Pregnancy dulls my taste buds—are you doing this on purpose?" "Can you stop pacing around the living room? Looking at your face gives me a headache." Every single time, Ethan took her side without hesitation. "Chloe, she's pregnant. Can't you just cut her some slack?" "You're always so petty. No wonder our marriage hit a wall." "Amber is young and straightforward. Don't be so sensitive." Listening to them, whatever warmth left in my heart turned to ice. I used to tell myself that Ethan was just short-tempered, just emotionally distant. It wasn't until I saw him fiercely protecting another woman that I realized the truth: he wasn't incapable of love. He just didn't love me. One evening at dinner, Amber slammed her fork onto the table. "I'm craving the lobster from Ocean Prime." Ethan paused. "Babe, that place is outrageously expensive." Tears welled up in Amber's eyes immediately. "The baby wants it, not me! Can't you even spare that much for your own child?" Ethan's expression soured. I seized the moment and chimed in. "Ethan, she's carrying your child. What's wrong with spoiling her a little?" "Didn't you say she’s doing the greatest service for your family?" Trapped by his own ego, Ethan gritted his teeth and pulled out his phone. "Fine. I'll make a reservation." I immediately added, "Oh, and make sure not to use our joint account." "You signed that paper yesterday stating all of Amber’s expenses are your personal responsibility." Ethan's fingers stiffened, and he glared daggers at me. "Chloe, is it really necessary to count every single penny like this?" I took a slow sip of my soup. "Of course it is. After all, you two are building a future together. I wouldn't want to mooch off your happiness." Amber missed the dripping sarcasm entirely and snuggled smugly into Ethan’s chest. "Ethan, she’s right. You spending money on me proves you love me." Pacified by her sweet talk, Ethan’s temper melted away. From that day on, he bled money for Amber daily. Imported fruit baskets, luxury prenatal massage chairs, designer purses, and a massive deposit for an elite postpartum wellness retreat. For every single expense, I made sure he transferred the funds from his personal account. And for every single transaction, I took screenshots and saved the receipts. Whenever Ethan complained, I just smiled warmly. "It's proof of your love! When the baby grows up, he'll look back and see just how much his daddy adored him." Amber eagerly chimed in. "Exactly, babe! We have to keep a paper trail of how wonderful you are to our baby." She had no idea that every manipulative whine out of her mouth was driving another nail into Ethan's financial coffin. Two weeks later, Ethan’s stress became painfully obvious. Cash flow at his small logistics firm was drying up, yet he had already burned through over thirty thousand dollars on Amber. He started dropping hints to me. "Chloe... didn't you have some mutual funds tucked away?" "Amber’s due date is creeping closer, and the expenses are piling up." I stared at him, my gaze unflinching. "You want me to fund your mistress and her baby?" Ethan scowled. "Don't make it sound so ugly. Once the baby is born, I won't let you walk away empty-handed." I let out a dry laugh. "Oh? How generous of you. What do I get?" He hesitated for a second. "When the time comes... I can let you be the baby's godmother." I nearly burst out laughing at the sheer audacity. The floating comments exploded across my view: [The audacity of this clown!] [The scumbag really thinks he's handing out an award!] [Wait till you see what's next—he's planning to refinance your house behind your back!] My fingers froze. The house was bought before our marriage; I had put down the entire down payment, and we had shared the mortgage payments afterward. Ethan had always resented that my name alone was on the primary deed, claiming it made him feel like an outsider. I had never agreed to change it. That night, sleep eluded me. At one in the morning, Ethan crept out to the balcony, his phone pressed to his ear. Through the crack in the glass sliding door, his hushed voice drifted in: "Yeah, the house counts as marital property." "My wife won't be an issue. She’s too scared to put up a fight right now." "Approve the secondary mortgage loan first. Once the cash clears, I just need a few weeks to turn things around."My fists clenched tighter with every word. The next morning, I took half a day off work and went straight to a reputable divorce attorney. After hearing my story, the lawyer's brow furrowed deep. "Mrs. Vance, there are two crucial steps you must take immediately." "First, secure all proof regarding your pre-marital down payment and the joint mortgage contribution trail." "Second, prove that every single loan, expenditure, and promissory note Mr. Vance generated for this third party was purely for personal affairs and bore no relation to marital living costs." I noted down every word. Leaving the law firm, I didn't go straight home. I went to the bank, froze the shared emergency lines tied to Ethan, and moved all my essential documents, jewelry, and real estate deeds to a secure safe at a trusted friend's house. Only after securing everything did I return to that suffocating apartment. The moment I stepped through the front door, Amber shattered a ceramic bowl right at my feet. "Where the hell have you been?" "I’ve been starving for two hours! Don't you know pregnant women can't skip meals?" Ethan sat on the couch, his face dark with irritation. "Chloe, you're getting completely out of hand!" I glanced at the porcelain shards scattered on the hardwood. "Something came up at the office." Amber scoffed nastily. "Why are you even still working? Didn't Ethan tell you to quit?" I raised my eyes, staring directly at her. "If I quit, who’s going to pay for your luxury prenatal tonics?" She choked on her words, her face turning an ugly shade of crimson. Ethan’s temper flared even higher. "Drop the sarcastic attitude!" "Amber is carrying a child. Taking care of her is your responsibility!" I paused, looking Ethan dead in the eye. "Ethan, are you absolutely, one hundred percent certain that the baby in her belly is yours?" The entire apartment fell dead silent. Amber’s expression flickered with panic before tears instantly cascaded down her cheeks. "Chloe, how could you humiliate me like this?" "Ethan and I are truly in love! Fine, hate me if you want, but how dare you question our innocent baby?" Humiliated and enraged, Ethan leaped to his feet, his palm flying up to strike my face. I didn't flinch. I just held up my phone. On the screen, a voice recording app was pulsing with live soundwaves. His hand froze mid-air. I met his glare, my voice deadly calm. "Go ahead. Hit me." "The second your hand touches my face, I'm heading straight to the police station for domestic abuse." Ethan's face turned livid, but he slowly, reluctantly dropped his arm. Amber wailed even louder, clutching her stomach. "Ethan, I can't take this anymore! She targets me every single day. She's going to stress me and the baby to death!" Ethan immediately melted, wrapping his arms around her to soothe her. "Don't cry, baby, don't cry. I'll take you apartment hunting today." "As soon as we close on a new place, I’ll throw her out." The floating comments drifted past silently: [This clown really thinks he's moving out? In three days, the Sterlings are coming for Amber.] [After all, that's the billionaire heir of the Sterling empire. There's no way they'd let their bloodline wander the streets.] [The Sterlings have infinite money and power.] Sure enough, over the next few days, Amber became visibly restless. She checked her phone compulsively, pacing anxiously between the balcony and the bathroom. Around noon, she suddenly claimed she had intense cramps and demanded that Ethan take her to the hospital. Terrified, Ethan called out of work immediately and rushed her out the door. At nine that evening, Ethan returned. Alone. His face was ghostly pale. The moment he walked through the door, he barked at me, "Has Amber come back?" I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't she go to the hospital with you?" Ethan tugged violently at his collar, his breath ragged. "She... she said she had to use the restroom, and then she vanished into thin air!" I feigned shock. "A pregnant woman went missing, and you haven't called the cops?" He glared at me with pure venom. "Wipe that smug smirk off your face!" A split second later, his phone rang. He answered it. Before he could even say hello, all the color drained from his face. A deep, unfamiliar male voice echoed through the speaker. Living in the quiet apartment, I caught every single word clearly: "Mr. Ethan Vance? Did Amber Reed reside at your address?" "This is the Chief Legal Counsel for the Sterling Group." Ethan’s hand began to tremble uncontrollably around the phone. "What... what Sterling Group? I don't know what you're talking about." The voice on the other end remained crisp, professional, yet utterly suffocating with authority: "Ms. Amber Reed is currently under investigation for allegedly defrauding Mr. Sterling's son of substantial assets under the false pretenses of pregnancy, marriage, and private equity investments." "We have confirmed evidence that she has been staying under your roof." "Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock sharp, we expect you and your wife to report to the Sterling Group headquarters to provide a formal statement."