The Stepmother Scandal, My Ex Got What He Deserved

The day before our wedding, I went to the clinic alone and quietly terminated the pregnancy. In the hallway, I ran into a doctor I knew well. Her eyes went wide with shock. "Summer? Just last week you were worrying your wedding gown wouldn't hide your bump. Why the sudden change of heart?" She glanced around. "Where's Ethan? He didn't come with you?" I lowered my eyes, touching my slightly swollen belly. An overwhelming emptiness hollowed out my chest. "He's busy." I gave a bitter, humorless smile. "Downstairs. Helping his stepmother with her prenatal checkup." The doctor blinked in sheer disbelief, completely struck dumb. Right on cue, the private investigator I had hired came rushing up the stairs, panting as he handed me a sealed envelope. "Miss Summer, the results are in. The stepmother's baby is Ethan's!" The doctor’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. The shock in her expression instantly curdled into sheer, suffocating awkwardness. She took an instinctive step backward, offering a stiff, dry chuckle. "Well, I'll let you handle your business, Summer. I have rounds to finish. Take care." I didn't answer. I opened the paternity test, flipping directly to the final conclusion on the last page: *The tested individual is confirmed as the biological father of the fetus, with a probability of paternity greater than 99.99%.* "Thank you," I murmured, my voice hollow. "I'll wire double your fee this afternoon." The investigator thanked me profusely before turning to leave. I didn't even have the strength left to nod. Clutching my stomach, I walked numbly to the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the corridor. From here, I could look straight down into the first-floor courtyard garden. Ethan Hayes had his arm wrapped around Vivian, his late father's young widow. She was leaning heavily against his chest, her body practically melting into his. They were laughing, whispering into each other's ears, looking for all the world like a pair of doting newlyweds. I stood there, watching them through the glass, trembling so violently with pain that my bones ached. Yet some stubborn, pathetic part of me still wanted to give him one last chance. Staring at their cozy figures down below, I dialed Ethan's number. The ringtone buzzed. Down in the garden, Ethan glanced at his glowing screen. His brow furrowed in visible irritation. He declined the call. I called again. He declined it again. On the third try, he finally answered. Before I could even open my mouth, his harsh, impatient voice lashed through the receiver like a whip. "Summer, what is wrong with you?" "I told you I'm busy! I'm drowning in work, and you won't stop blowing up my phone! What is so damn urgent?" I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting to keep the tears out of my voice. "Ethan, I'm really not feeling well. Could you come with me for a checkup..." Ethan let out an exasperated, heavy sigh. "If you're sick, go see a doctor! Can't you take a driver or one of the maids with you? I'm running myself ragged at the office every single day. I don't have time to hold a pregnant woman's hand twenty-four-seven." "Ethan, I—" *Click.* He hung up on me. Down in the garden, the man who had just barked at me so cruelly turned back around, instantly melting into a tender, doting protector. He pulled Vivian closer, strolling leisurely through the flowers. Nausea churned in my stomach, like a wave of bile threatening to choke me. A cold shiver racked my body. I looked at my reflection in the glass: a pale, hollow-eyed pregnant woman with tears streaming down her face. She looked utterly pathetic. Soft footsteps sounded behind me, followed by a nurse's gentle voice. "Miss Summer, it's time for your procedure. If you aren't ready, we can still reschedule or cancel the appointment." Her words snapped me out of my trance. I messily wiped away the tears soaking my cheeks and turned around. "No need," I said steadily. "I've made up my mind. Take me in." This child, and Ethan Hayes— I didn't want either of them anymore. The procedure was quick. As the anesthesia wore off, a dull, throbbing ache spread through my lower abdomen. I hadn't brought anyone with me, so I had to support myself against the wall, inching toward the exit one painful step at a time. Just as I turned the corner toward the lobby, a shrill voice called out my name. "Summer!" I turned around. Sure enough, it was Ethan's stepmother, Vivian.She hurried toward me, her eyes wide with exaggerated surprise. "Summer, it really is you! Why are you at the clinic all by yourself? Morning sickness acting up?" Before I could speak, Ethan came jogging up behind her, holding a cashmere cardigan, his tone dripping with protective concern. "Vivian, I just stepped away for two seconds to grab your coat. Where did you run off to? The hospital AC is freezing indoors. You need to keep warm, or you'll catch a cold." Only then did Ethan seem to notice me standing there. He froze, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face before he quickly went on the offensive. "Why are you here alone? Where are the maids?" I didn't answer. I just stared at him in dead silence. My gaze must have made him uncomfortable, because his face darkened and he offered a reluctant, defensive explanation. "I promised Vivian days ago that I'd bring her in for her scan. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you overthinking things. You've thrown tantrums over harmless stuff like this before. Besides, we're getting married tomorrow. I just wanted to keep the peace." "Right," I muttered quietly, completely devoid of emotion. Assuming I had bought his excuse, Ethan casually turned back to Vivian, wrapping the cardigan around her shoulders. He even took the time to button it up for her, one careful button after another. Vivian tilted her head, giving my pale, bloodless face a smug, pitiful once-over. Then she pouted playfully. "Ethan, stop it!" "Summer is right here. You should be giving the coat to her, not me. Why are you putting it on my shoulders?" Ethan didn't even look up. "She's fine. She has a strong constitution." "You're the one carrying my—" He abruptly choked on his words. Ethan's face drained of color as if he had just woken from a nightmare. He shot a frantic, nervous glance in my direction, hastily correcting himself. "My... my late father's child. My little brother. I have to make sure you're both taken care of." I felt sick watching them put on their little show. Outside, dark storm clouds had gathered, and fat raindrops were already beginning to splatter against the pavement. I threw out a careless excuse, ready to get away from them. "I still have more tests. Excuse me." I turned to leave, but Ethan suddenly grabbed my arm. He pointed to the compact umbrella sticking out of my tote bag, his tone dripping with entitlement. "If you're staying inside for more tests, give me that umbrella." "It's pouring outside, and I don't want Vivian getting soaked when we walk to the car. Summer rain never lasts long anyway. By the time you're done with your tests, it'll probably be sunny. You won't need it." I stared at him, my eyes rimmed with red, my voice shaking with raw hurt. "She's pregnant, so she needs protection. What about me?" "Ethan, I'm carrying your child." Seeing my tears, Ethan immediately assumed I was about to make a scene. He waved his hand in disgust, his voice laced with venomous annoyance. "Forget it. Keep your damn umbrella." "You make a massive drama out of lending a simple umbrella. Vivian has always been fragile. Even if you get a little wet, you bounce back fine. You managed to come to the clinic all by yourself, didn't you? Clearly you're doing great. Stop acting crazy for once in your life, will you?" With that, Ethan slung his arm around Vivian's waist and walked away. As they walked down the hall, his voice drifted back to me, loud enough that I knew he wanted me to hear every word. "Gets pregnant and turns into a total psycho." "I honestly can't stand her anymore." My tears abruptly stopped, drying up in my burning eyes. A suffocating wave of humiliation and hatred clawed at my chest until I could barely draw breath. My knees gave out. I stumbled over to a wooden bench, collapsed onto it, and sat there shaking for a long time. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed the private investigator. "Those intimate photos you took of Ethan and Vivian... do you still have the files?" "Print fifty thousand copies. I'll buy every single one." "Have your people plaster them all over the new house tonight." "And tomorrow morning, when the groomsmen arrive to pick up the bride... pack those photos into the confetti cannons. Blow them up like red rain."By the time I dragged myself back to the villa, Ethan had already finished dinner with Vivian. They were curled up together on the plush living room sofa, watching a soap opera and laughing about the plot. "If I were the main character, I'd dump him instantly," Vivian giggled, leaning her head onto Ethan's shoulder. She caught sight of me standing in the foyer and sneered, her voice dripping with fake disgust. "Honestly, the female lead is pathetic. Clinging to a man who clearly doesn't want her!" Watching them, I felt like someone had shoved a wad of cotton down my throat. I remembered watching the exact same show a few months ago. Ethan had walked past the television and snapped at me: "Turn that garbage down! Don't you know how annoying that noise is?" "I have no idea how you can watch such brainless trash. I'd rather die than watch a second of it!" Looking back now, it wasn't the show he hated. He just hated me. And because he hated me, he hated everything associated with me. Hearing the front door click shut, Ethan only shot me a frigid glance before turning back to the screen. He didn't say a word. He was still punishing me for refusing to hand over my umbrella at the hospital. I walked past them, ignoring them completely, and headed to the dining room to eat. Halfway through my meal, Vivian drifted into the dining room, sniffing the air dramatically. "Summer, whatever you're eating smells amazing." She turned toward the kitchen. "Maria, is there any left? Bring me a plate!" The housekeeper, Maria, looked troubled. "I'm sorry, ma'am. The doctor ordered specific dietary meals for you and Miss Summer, so I only prepared one portion of each." Before Maria could finish, Ethan marched into the dining room. Without a word, he grabbed the tray right out from under my hands and placed it directly in front of Vivian. "It's just dinner. Eat up, Vivian. We can't let you and the baby starve, can we?" Then he turned to me, completely unapologetic. "Summer, have Maria whip up something else for you. Vivian rarely has an appetite these days. She's technically your elder now—learn to be generous." My stomach was cramping from hunger, and my lower body still throbbed with post-surgery ache. I gripped my fork so hard my knuckles turned white. *Clatter!* I slammed the fork onto the table and finally exploded. "Is the Hayes family going bankrupt? Do you have to snatch food out of my mouth to feed your father's widow?" "You treat your little stepmom so damn well, Ethan. Anyone watching would think you're marrying *her* tomorrow!" Hit right where it hurt, Ethan’s face flushed with furious embarrassment. "Summer, what the hell are you babbling about?!" he roared. "You just walked through the door and you're already starting drama! Who gave you the right to act like a spoiled brat?" Vivian immediately buried her face in her hands, sobbing pathetically, her shoulders shaking. Yet she kept up the innocent act: "No, Ethan, please don't fight with her because of me!" "It's all my fault. Pregnancy cravings make me want everything I see. Here, Summer, take it back, I don't want it! You chased Ethan for three whole years before you two finally got together. Your wedding is tomorrow—please don't ruin it over a plate of food!" The more fragile Vivian played, the darker and more murderous Ethan's expression became. He pulled Vivian against his chest, softly soothing her. "Vivian, don't cry." "Why are you apologizing to her? You did nothing wrong." Then he spun on me, his eyes full of venom. "Summer, if you hadn't chased after me like a stray dog for three years, do you really think I ever would have dated you, let alone agreed to marry you? If you ever target Vivian again, I swear to God I'll call off the wedding right now!" Vivian, terrified that we might actually resolve the fight, peeked out with tear-stained eyes and tugged timidly at Ethan's sleeve. "Ethan, please, stop. Summer just loves you too much. She's scared I'll steal you away." "I'll pack my bags and move out tomorrow. I won't be a third wheel anymore..." "Move out?" Ethan cut her off, his glare slicing into me like a knife. "If anyone is leaving, it's her!" "This house is mine. Everything in the Hayes estate is mine. Summer, if you keep pulling this pathetic attitude, the wedding is canceled, and you can get the hell out of my house!" "Now, apologize to Vivian. Right now!"*Crack!* A deafening clap of thunder rattled the windows as lightning tore through the sky. I stared at Ethan's twisted, furious face, and then at Vivian smirking behind his shoulder. Suddenly, I let out a soft laugh. Ethan froze. "What..." I didn't give him a chance to finish. I calmly picked up a napkin, dabbed at the corners of my mouth, and stood up. Grabbing my tote bag from the chair, I pushed past them, opened the heavy front doors, and walked out into the storm. I popped open the compact umbrella—the one I had refused to give him—and stepped into the torrential downpour. The icy wind whipped the rain sideways, soaking half of my clothes and making me shiver to my core. Yet every step I took away from that house was steady and resolute. *Crack!* Another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky. The flash seemed to snap Ethan back to reality. Listening to the violent deluge outside, he realized he had crossed a line. It was a dangerous storm, and he believed I was still pregnant. A sudden surge of panic gripped his chest. He pulled away from Vivian, intending to chase after me. "Summer—" Before he could reach the door, Vivian wrapped both arms around his waist from behind, sobbing hysterically. "Ethan, don't leave me! The thunder is so loud, I'm terrified!" Ethan reached down, trying to pry her hands off. "Vivian, let go. There are dozens of staff in the house." "Summer is carrying my baby. I have to go check on her." Instead of letting go, Vivian clung to him tighter, her voice trembling with tragic desperation. "Ethan, don't you love me anymore?" "I was forced to marry your old, dying father, but my heart has only ever belonged to you! You swore you would protect me! Now that Summer is treating me like dirt, are you really going to abandon me in the dark to chase after her?" Ethan stood frozen in the hallway for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, his hands dropped. He turned around, pulling Vivian back into his arms, whispering soft reassurances. "Stop crying. I'm right here." Yet his eyes remained fixed on the pitch-black, rain-lashed darkness outside the window. Once Vivian finally calmed down, Ethan pulled out his phone and dialed my number. No answer. He called three times in a row. Still nothing. Hiding her smug satisfaction, Vivian pressed her cheek against his chest and murmured innocently: "Ethan, do you think Summer is so mad she won't show up tomorrow? She's pregnant, after all. What if something happens? Maybe you should text her an apology..." Ethan's eyes flickered with unease, but his stubborn pride quickly took over. "Apologize?" he scoffed, desperately trying to reassure 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's obsessed with me. We're getting married tomorrow—there's no way in hell she'd actually throw that away. She probably just went to our new townhouse to cool off." Ethan was dead wrong. I was at the airport. I had boarded a flight ten minutes ago. I had no specific destination in mind. I had simply walked up to the counter and asked the agent for a ticket on the very next flight leaving the tarmac. At 3:20 AM, my plane touched down in a coastal city hundreds of miles away. The moment I turned on my phone, two text notifications popped up. The first was from the private investigator: *Miss Summer, everything is ready.* The second was from Ethan: *I was too harsh earlier. Get some rest. I'll pick you up from the new house in the morning.* I didn't reply to either of them. My body was completely exhausted, my eyelids heavy as lead. I checked into a nearby airport hotel, collapsed onto the bed, pulled the duvet over my head, and fell into a dreamless sleep. At 7:00 AM back home, the Hayes estate was a buzz of chaotic energy. Groomsmen in sharp tuxedos were cheering and laughing, hurrying Ethan to get moving. Yet Ethan kept staring at his phone, his stomach twisting into nervous knots over the text that had remained unanswered all night. Vivian stepped beside him, looking concerned. "Ethan, are you okay? You look terrible. Still no word from Summer?" Ethan shook his head distractedly. Then his gaze drifted down to Vivian's outfit, and his brows instantly slammed together. She was wearing a skin-tight, glittering crimson gown, practically backless and dripping with sequins. She looked undeniably gorgeous, but entirely inappropriate. "Vivian, maybe you should change," Ethan said, frowning. "Today is my wedding. Wearing something that bright and revealing..." Vivian lowered her head, instantly welling up with tears. She was about to pull her usual innocent victim routine to make Ethan back down. Except this time, the groomsmen weren't having it. One of Ethan's close friends spoke up, frowning. "Uh, Vivian, isn't that dress a bit over the top? I mean, it's Ethan's big day, but technically you're his father's widow. You should probably wear something more modest. That dress looks like you're heading to a nightclub." "Seriously," another groomsman chimed in. "Ethan is marrying Summer today. You're his stepmother, showing up dressed like a siren. It looks weird." "There's going to be press outside the estate today," a third warned. "Vivian, you shouldn't be clinging to Ethan's arm like that. If the paparazzi snap photos, the rumors will tear the Hayes family's reputation to shreds." With everyone talking at once, and Ethan too distracted to defend her, Vivian had no choice but to bite her lip in fury. She stomped upstairs, changed into a subdued navy dress, and climbed into the bridal motorcade heading toward the new townhouse. On the way, Ethan's assistant called with an update: "Mr. Hayes, the neighborhood security said a crew was at the house around two or three in the morning setting up decorations. They said Miss Summer arranged it all. She should be waiting inside." The heavy stone weighing on Ethan's chest instantly vanished. A triumphant, arrogant smirk spread across his lips. See? He knew it. She couldn't resist him. When the motorcade pulled up to the luxurious townhouse, however, the entire estate was eerily quiet. There were no flowers on the gate. No ribbons on the porch. No festive decorations whatsoever. It didn't look like a wedding venue at all. A knot of confusion formed in Ethan's gut, but remembering the assistant's words, he forced a confident grin and waved his groomsmen forward. "Come on! Let's go get my bride!" To everyone's surprise, the front doors weren't locked. There were no bridesmaids blocking the entrance, demanding bridal games or red envelopes. The heavy double doors stood slightly ajar. With a gentle push, the flock of groomsmen, friends, and relatives spilled into the grand foyer. *BANG! BANG! BANG!* A dozen heavy confetti cannons instantly detonated with a deafening roar! Countless glossy photographs exploded into the air like a firework show, fluttering down like a storm of falling snow. High-resolution, crystal-clear pictures rained down over everyone's heads. Photos of Ethan and Vivian passionately making out in hotel suites. Photos of them entwined naked in bed. And photos of them tangled up on the couch in the private lounge of his father's memorial service, kissing like animals while Arthur Hayes's coffin lay just in the other room. Ethan froze in his tracks, every drop of color draining from his face in a split second. He stared at a photograph that landed directly at the tips of his polished shoes. In the picture, Vivian was straddling his lap in the memorial hall lounge, their lips locked in a feverish kiss. Printed neatly across the bottom of every single photo was a single sentence in bold, crimson font: *To Ethan Hayes: Congratulations on your wedding with your Stepmother!*