The Stepmother's Scandal， Ditching My Cheating Fiancé

The day before our wedding, I went to the hospital and secretly aborted Julian Sterling’s baby. In the hallway, I ran into a doctor I knew. She looked at me, completely shocked. "Chloe? Just last week you were worried about how to hide your baby bump in your wedding dress. Why the sudden change of heart?" "And where is Julian? Why isn't he here with you?" I looked down, gently stroking my slightly rounded stomach. A hollow, aching emptiness swallowed me. "He's busy." "Right downstairs, actually. Escorting his young stepmother for her ultrasound." The doctor blinked in sheer disbelief, completely speechless. Just then, the private investigator I had hired ran up to us from the elevator, clutching a thick manila envelope and panting heavily. "Chloe! I found it! The DNA results—Vivian's baby belongs to Julian!" The doctor’s eyes went wide, and her shocked expression quickly turned into pure embarrassment. She hastily took a step back, forcing a stiff, awkward smile. "Well... I'll leave you to your business, Chloe. I have rounds to make. Take care." I didn't answer her. I took the paternity report and flipped past the medical jargon, my eyes locking onto the final conclusion on the last page: "The probability of paternity is 99.9%." "Thank you for your hard work, Mark. I'll wire double your usual fee to your account." The investigator thanked me profusely. But I barely had the energy to nod. Cradling my stomach, I walked numbly toward the massive window at the far end of the hallway. Looking down, I could see Julian. He was gently supporting Vivian, who had just finished her prenatal checkup, as they strolled through the first-floor garden. They looked incredibly intimate. Vivian was practically melting into Julian's arms. They laughed and chatted, the picture of a perfectly happy, loving couple. I watched them, shaking so violently from the pain that I could barely breathe. And yet, a pathetic, stubborn part of me still wanted to give him one last chance. Watching their silhouettes, I dialed Julian's number. The phone rang. Downstairs, Julian glanced at his buzzing screen. A flash of irritation crossed his face. He declined the call. I called again. Declined again. On my third attempt, he finally picked up. Before I could even breathe a word, his annoyed voice barked through the receiver: "Chloe, are you losing your mind?" "I told you I'm busy! Busy! Yet you keep spamming my phone. What is so damn urgent?" I fought back the sob rising in my throat. "Julian, I'm not feeling well. Can you... can you come up and accompany me for an ultrasound?" Julian let out a heavy, exasperated sigh. "If you're not feeling well, see a doctor. Hire a nurse, or have Martha drive you. Why the hell do you need me?" "I'm drowning in work at the office every single day. I don't have time to cater to your pregnancy whims twenty-four-seven." "But I—" Before I could finish, the line went dead. Downstairs, the man who had just barked at me so viciously turned back to Vivian. In an instant, his face softened into pure, gentle devotion. He wrapped his arm around her waist and continued their slow, romantic stroll. A wave of intense nausea hit me. I felt like I was going to throw up acid. I shivered from the sudden, icy chill that washed over me. Looking at my reflection in the window, I saw a pregnant woman with bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. She looked so incredibly pathetic. "Chloe? It's time for your procedure." A nurse's gentle voice sounded behind me, snapping me out of my trance. "If you're still undecided, we can reschedule or cancel the appointment." I blinked, the cold reality finally setting in. I hurriedly wiped the tears from my face and turned around. "No need." "I've made up my mind. Let's do it." This baby, Julian... I wanted none of it anymore. The surgery was quick. As the anesthesia began to wear off, a dull, agonizing ache spread through my lower abdomen. I hadn't brought anyone with me, so I had to support myself against the wall, taking slow, agonizing steps toward the exit. But as I turned the corner, a loud voice called out my name. "Chloe!" I turned around. Sure enough, it was Vivian. Julian’s young stepmother.She hurried toward me, her eyes wide with mock surprise. "Chloe! It really is you!" "Why are you at the hospital? Are you having pregnancy complications too?" Before I could answer, Julian rushed over, holding a designer coat. His tone was a mix of panic and deep affection. "Vivian, I only left for a second to grab your coat. Where did you run off to? The AC in this hospital is freezing. You need to bundle up so you don't catch a cold." Then, as if finally noticing me standing there, Julian froze. A flash of guilt crossed his face before he quickly tried to turn the tables. "Why are you here alone? Where's the housekeeper?" I didn't answer. I just stared at him in dead silence. My cold gaze made him squirm. He cleared his throat and offered a defensive, reluctant explanation. "I promised Vivian I’d bring her for her checkup days ago." "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you overreacting again. You've thrown tantrums over this kind of stuff before. Besides, we're getting married tomorrow. I wanted to keep things peaceful, so I kept it quiet." I gave a faint, empty nod. Thinking the matter was resolved, Julian naturally draped the coat over Vivian’s shoulders. He even took the time to meticulously button it up for her, one by one. Vivian tilted her head, looking at my pale, ghost-like face with a mix of pity and smug triumph. She put on a pout and chided him playfully: "Julian, what are you doing?" "Chloe is right here. You should offer the coat to her first. Why are you putting it on me?" Julian didn't even look up. "She's fine. She has a strong constitution." "You're the one carrying my—" He choked on his words, suddenly catching himself. His face paled, and he shot a panicked look at me before quickly correcting himself. "I mean... my baby brother. I have to make sure he's safe." I had zero interest in watching their little show. Outside, the sky was darkening, and rain was starting to pour. I offered a dry excuse to leave: "I have other tests to run. Excuse me." But as I turned, Julian grabbed my arm. Pointing at the umbrella peeking out of my bag, he spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "If you're not using that umbrella, let me borrow it." "It's pouring outside, and I don't want Vivian getting wet when we walk to the car. Summer storms pass quickly anyway. By the time you're done with your tests, the rain will probably have stopped. You won't need it." My eyes welled with hot tears as I stared at him. My voice was hoarse. "She's pregnant, so she needs care. What about me?" "Julian, I'm carrying your child too." Seeing my tears, Julian’s face hardened into sheer annoyance. He waved his hand dismissively, his voice dripping with impatience. "Fine, keep your damn umbrella." "I ask you for one simple favor, and you start crying and nagging. Vivian has always been fragile. Even if you get a little wet, you'll recover in no time. You seemed perfectly fine coming to the hospital alone. Stop being so damn difficult, will you?" With that, he wrapped his arm around Vivian and walked away. I could hear his voice drifting back to me. "Being pregnant has turned her into an absolute psycho." "I can't stand her anymore." He spoke loudly, making sure his words cut right through me. He wanted to hurt me. But my tears suddenly dried up, leaving my eyes burning and raw. A wave of suffocating betrayal and hatred squeezed my chest so hard it was physically painful. My knees buckled. I stumbled over to a waiting bench and sat down, taking deep, shaky breaths. I pulled out my phone and dialed the private investigator. "Mark, do you still have backups of those intimate photos of Julian and Vivian?" "Print fifty thousand copies. I'm buying them all." "Have your people plaster them all over our new mansion."By the time I got back to the estate, Julian had already dined with Vivian. They were curled up together on the couch, watching a trashy reality show, laughing and chatting about the drama. "If I were the female lead, I'd have dumped him already. Why drag it out?" Julian scoffed. Vivian giggled, resting her head on his shoulder. She caught sight of me standing at the door out of the corner of her eye. With a sneer, she said, "Well, some girls are just pathetic like that. They have no dignity and refuse to leave!" I stared at them, feeling a thick lump rise in my throat. I remembered watching the same show a few weeks ago. Julian had merely walked past the living room and snapped at me: "Turn that garbage down, it’s giving me a headache." "I don't know how you watch this brainless trash. It's utterly pathetic." Now I realized. It wasn't the show he hated. It was me. And because he hated me, he hated everything I did. Hearing the front door click, Julian only spared me a cold, passing glance before turning back to the TV. He didn't say a single word. He was still giving me the silent treatment over the umbrella. I pretended not to notice. I walked straight to the dining room to eat alone. But halfway through my meal, Vivian followed the scent into the kitchen. "Oh, Chloe, that smells amazing." "Martha, is there any more of that? Serve me a plate." Martha, the housekeeper, looked conflicted. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Both your and Ms. Chloe's meals are specially prepared pre-natal menus. I only made one portion for her." Before Martha could finish, Julian walked in. Without a word, he snatched my plate right out from under me. He placed it directly in front of Vivian. "It’s just a meal. Eat up, Vivian. We can't let you or the baby starve." "Chloe, have Martha whip up something else for you. Vivian rarely has an appetite. She’s technically your elder. The least you can do is show some respect." My stomach was cramping from hunger. I gripped my fork so tightly my knuckles turned white. "Clack!" I slammed my utensils onto the table, finally snapping. "Is the Sterling family going bankrupt? Do you seriously have to steal food off my plate?" "You treat Vivian better than your own fiancé. Anyone walking in would think you're the one marrying her tomorrow!" As if I had struck a nerve, Julian’s face flushed with rage. He roared: "What the hell are you talking about, Chloe!" "The second you step foot in this house, you start picking fights. Who gave you the right to act like a spoiled brat?" Beside him, Vivian immediately covered her face and sobbed, her shoulders trembling delicately. But her eyes were gleaming with malice. "No, Julian, don't yell at her." "It's my fault. I’m just pregnant and crave everything I see. I don't want the food anymore, Chloe. I'll give it back. You chased Julian for three years before he finally noticed you. Your wedding is tomorrow. Please don't cancel it over a plate of food!" The more she played the victim, the angrier Julian became. He wrapped his arms around Vivian, comforting her. "Stop crying, Vivian." "Why are you apologizing to her? You did nothing wrong." He whipped his head toward me, his eyes burning with disgust. "Chloe, if you hadn't chased me like a desperate dog for three years, do you think I would’ve ever dated you? Do you think I'd actually marry you? If you dare disrespect Vivian again, I swear to God I will call off this wedding right now!" Vivian, determined to push me over the edge, looked up with tear-filled eyes and clutched Julian’s sleeve. "Julian, don't say that. Chloe is just terrified of losing you." "I'll pack my bags and move out tomorrow. I don't want to stand between you two..." "Move out?" Julian interrupted, his glare cutting through me like a knife. "If anyone is leaving, it’s her!" "This house belongs to me. The Sterling estate is mine." "Chloe, if you pull this drama one more time, the wedding is off, and you can pack your bags and get the hell out of my house!" "Now, apologize to Vivian. Immediately!""Boom." A deafening crack of thunder shook the house, followed by a bright flash of lightning. I looked at Julian’s enraged face, and then at Vivian, who was smirking triumphantly from his chest. Suddenly, I shook my head and burst into laughter. Julian froze. "What..." I didn't give him a chance to speak. I calmly wiped my mouth, grabbed my purse, and walked straight out into the pouring rain. I opened the umbrella—the very one I had refused to give him—and stepped into the storm. The wind whipped rain against my side, making me shiver violently. But my footsteps were steady and resolute. "Crack." Another flash of lightning lit up the sky. The sudden boom seemed to shock Julian back to reality. Hearing the torrential downpour outside, a flicker of guilt crossed his mind. She was pregnant, after all, and it was a dangerous storm. Panic gripped his chest, and he made a move to chase after me. But Vivian immediately clung to his arm. "Julian, don't go. The thunder is so loud. I'm terrified." Julian patted her arm, trying to pry her hands off him. He gentled his voice. "It's fine, Vivian. There are plenty of housekeepers here." "Chloe is pregnant. I need to go after her." But Vivian only held on tighter, her tears flowing freely. "Julian, do you not love me anymore?" "I was forced to marry your father when my heart always belonged to you. You promised you'd take care of me. Now that Chloe treats me like garbage, are you really going to abandon me for her?" Julian hesitated. The silence stretched between them. Ultimately, he stopped. He turned back to comfort Vivian, whispering softly, "Don't worry. I'm right here." But his eyes remained glued to the storm raging outside the window. Once Vivian calmed down, Julian tried calling me. No answer. Three calls, all sent straight to voicemail. Vivian suppressed her triumphant smile and leaned against his chest, testing the waters. "Julian... do you think Chloe is too angry to show up tomorrow? She's pregnant, after all. What if she doesn't come? Maybe you should text her and apologize." Julian’s gaze flickered, but his stubborn pride won out. "Apologize?" he scoffed, trying to convince himself. "She was the one in the wrong. If I apologize now, she'll walk all over me for the rest of our lives." "Don't worry. She loves me too much to ruin our wedding. She’s probably just cooling off at our new mansion. She'll be there tomorrow." Julian was dead wrong. I was at the airport. Ten minutes ago, I boarded a plane. I didn't care about the destination. I had simply walked up to the counter and asked for the next available flight out of the city. At 3:20 AM, my flight landed. I received two text messages. The first was from Mark, the PI: [Everything is set, Chloe.] The second was from Julian: [I was a bit harsh earlier. Get some rest. I'll pick you up at the mansion tomorrow morning.] I didn't reply to either. My eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. I checked into a hotel near the airport, pulled the covers over my head, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. At 7:00 AM, the Sterling estate was a flurry of activity. The groomsmen were laughing and drinking, urging Julian to get moving. But as Julian stared at his unanswered texts, an uneasy feeling gnawed at his gut. Vivian walked over, adjusting her dress. "Julian, what's wrong? You look pale." "Did Chloe still not reply?" Julian shook his head. Then, his eyes fell on Vivian’s outfit. He frowned. She was wearing a stunning, shimmering crimson gown. It was gorgeous, but entirely inappropriate. "Vivian, go change into something else." "Today is my wedding with Chloe. Why are you dressed like that?" Vivian lowered her eyes, her lips trembling as she prepared to play the victim again. But before she could speak, one of the groomsmen chimed in. "Yeah, Vivian, that dress is a bit much. Today is Julian's big day. You're his stepmother; you should dress a bit more modestly. That dress looks... a bit too desperate." "Exactly," another added. "You're his stepmother. Wearing a gown like that to his wedding is just weird." "And there are going to be media outlets outside," a third pointed out. "Vivian, don't hold Julian's arm today. If the paparazzi catch that, the rumors will ruin the Sterling family name." With everyone agreeing and Julian staying silent, Vivian had no choice but to angrily change into a plain, conservative dress. On the way to the new mansion, Julian's assistant called. "Mr. Sterling, the security guards said they saw a bunch of people entering the mansion around 2:00 AM to set things up. They said Ms. Miller hired them. She should be inside." The heavy knot in Julian’s chest finally unraveled, and a smug grin crept onto his face. But when the wedding fleet arrived at the mansion, the place was dead silent. There were no wedding decorations, no flowers, nothing. It didn't look like a wedding venue at all. Julian felt a twinge of unease, but remembering his assistant's words, he forced a smile and waved his hand. "Let's go! Time to get my bride!" But there was no bridesmaid's challenge, no locked doors. The front door was slightly ajar. With a light push, the groomsmen and guests spilled into the foyer. "Bang! Bang! Bang!" Dozens of party poppers exploded simultaneously. But it wasn't confetti that filled the air. It was photos. Thousands of high-definition photos rained down like snow. Photos of Julian and Vivian embracing, kissing, and even tangled together in bed. Julian froze, every drop of blood draining from his face. He stared at a photo that landed right at his feet. In the photo, he and Vivian were passionately kissing in the private lounge of his late father's funeral service. Beneath the photo, a line of text was printed: [Julian, wishing you and your stepmother a very happy wedding!]