His Wife's Secret Son
img img His Wife's Secret Son img Chapter 4
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Chapter 4

The city apartment was a sterile box compared to the lake house or the penthouse he once shared with Victoria. It felt like a waiting room for a life that was no longer his.

Then, one of the twins fell ill. A high fever, rushed to the hospital. Victoria called him, her voice frantic.

"The doctors don't know what it is. He's so small, Ethan."

He offered a few words of generic sympathy, what else could he do? He sent a text later: "Hoping for a quick recovery."

The next day, Victoria's tone was glacial.

"Liam thinks... he thinks you might be sending negative energy. Or that text you sent... it was right before his fever spiked again. He thinks you might have... cursed the child, somehow."

Ethan was speechless. Cursed the child? This was beyond absurd. It was malicious.

"Victoria, that's insane. Liam is manipulating you."

"Is he, Ethan? Or are you just bitter? Liam is here, by my side, worried sick. Where are you?"

That was it. The final straw. He'd endured the betrayal, the lies, the public humiliation. But this accusation, so vile and irrational, snapped something inside him.

He hung up and called his lawyer. "Draw up the divorce papers. Irreconcilable differences."

The papers were sent. Victoria called immediately, her voice a mix of panic and fury.

"A divorce? Now? Are you insane, Ethan? With one of our sons sick in the hospital?"

"Our sons?" Ethan repeated quietly. "They stopped being 'our' anything a long time ago, Victoria. Sign the papers."

"Never!" she shrieked.

The argument raged. Then, Ethan heard Liam's voice in the background, urgent, feigning panic.

"Vicky! Vicky, come quick! It's the baby, he's... he's having trouble breathing!"

Victoria's attention shifted instantly. "I have to go, Ethan. My son needs me."

The line went dead.

Two days later, the signed divorce papers arrived by courier. Delivered with a brief, furious note from Victoria: "You win. I hope you're happy."

He wasn't happy. He was just... empty. The fight was over. He had lost, or perhaps, he'd finally been set free.

                         

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