Discarded Wife, Powerful Heiress Rises

I walked in on my husband caressing his pregnant mistress' s belly. In my own home.

But the real betrayal wasn't his affair. It was when he, his mother, and even my own parents declared my pregnancy a "complication" that needed to be erased for a multi-billion-dollar merger.

They locked me in my penthouse and dragged me to a clinic. My own mother and father sold me out for a check, signing off on the procedure to get rid of my baby.

"It's time to cleanse the bloodline," my mother-in-law said as they held me down.

As the needle went into my arm, I felt my child, the one I'd prayed for, being stolen from me. They didn't just break my heart; they murdered my baby.

But they didn't know who I really was. Rescued by my true family-the powerful Pittmans-I learned I wasn't a discarded wife. I was a kidnapped heiress. And now, I will use every bit of my power to make them pay for the child they took from me.

Chapter 1

Alyssa Bolton POV:

The sight of Chase with his hand gently caressing Indiana' s swollen belly hit me harder than any physical blow ever could. My own child, our child, a secret I guarded with my desperate heart, felt like a cruel joke in that moment.

His eyes, usually filled with a distant ambition, softened as he looked at her, a tenderness I yearned for but rarely received. He laughed then, a low, intimate sound that wasn't meant for me. It was a laugh that spoke of shared futures and unspoken dreams.

"Alyssa, darling, are you ready for brunch?" Clementina's sharp voice cut through the air, pulling me back from the edge of that dark abyss. My mother-in-law's voice was always precise, like a surgeon's scalpel.

Chase flinched, his hand dropping from Indiana' s belly as if burned. He spun around, his charismatic facade cracking for a split second, revealing a flicker of panic in his usually controlled eyes.

"Alyssa," he said, the single word a question, a plea, a warning. His gaze darted between me and Indiana, who now looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a perfect picture of vulnerability.

I felt a cold rage bloom in my chest. He said nothing else, just stood there, letting the silence twist into an accusation. His silence was louder than any shout.

"What was that, Chase?" My voice, to my surprise, was steady, though it felt like shards of glass in my throat. "What was that tender little moment I just walked in on?"

His jaw tightened. Indiana, a master of timing, let out a soft whimper. "Chase, my head... I'm feeling a little dizzy."

Chase was instantly by her side, his arm going around her waist. "Indiana, are you alright? You look pale." He wasn't even looking at me anymore.

"Don't you dare," I whispered, my voice shaking now. This was my home, my life, and he was treating me like an inconvenient interruption.

Indiana buried her face into Chase's shoulder, her small, delicate frame trembling. "It's just the morning sickness, Chase. I'm so sorry." She cast a quick, defiant glance at me over his shoulder, a flicker of triumph in her eyes.

"Morning sickness?" The words ripped from my throat. "You're telling me about morning sickness in my living room, with my husband?"

Chase finally looked at me, his expression a mask of manufactured concern. "Alyssa, please. Indiana isn't well. This isn't the time."

"The time? When is the time, Chase? When you're done playing doting father to her child?" The raw pain in my voice surprised even myself.

Indiana straightened up, her feigned weakness evaporating. "Alyssa, how can you be so cruel? This baby is a Swanson! Chase loves this baby." Her words were a venomous dart, aimed precisely at the deepest wound.

"A Swanson?" I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Last I checked, I was the Mrs. Swanson. And I'm carrying a Swanson child too."

The air in the room froze. Chase's face went white, then mottled with anger. Indiana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, but her eyes held a predatory gleam.

"You're pregnant?" Chase's voice was a low growl, devoid of any joy, only accusation.

"Yes, Chase. After years of trying, years of heartbreak, I'm finally pregnant. And it's yours. Our baby." I watched his face, searching for any hint of the happiness we had once shared, of the dreams we'd whispered about. There was nothing. Only cold calculation.

Indiana spoke again, her voice now a saccharine sweet whisper. "Oh, Alyssa, honey, I'm so sorry. You must be so confused. Chase and I... we've been together for months. This baby... it's the Swanson heir." She paused, letting that sink in. "And your baby, well, it's a little complicated, isn't it? A complication the family can't afford right now."

Chase remained silent, his inaction a resounding endorsement of Indiana's cruel words. He just stood there, letting her dismantle my life, piece by agonizing piece.

"Don't worry," Indiana continued, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, "Chase will make sure you're taken care of. A very generous settlement. And of course, the family will ensure your... little problem... disappears quietly." She patted my arm, a gesture of fake sympathy that made my stomach churn.

I pulled away from her touch as if she were poison. "You think I'll just, what, disappear? Let you take my husband, my home, and claim his child as your own?"

Chase finally intervened, his face a mask of strained patience. "Alyssa, we need to talk. Alone. There are... corporate implications. A merger is at stake. Billions. This is about protecting the family, our legacy." He tried to take my hand, but I recoiled.

"Legacy?" I scoffed. "Is that what you call it? A legacy built on lies and betrayal?"

He lowered his voice, his tone almost pleading. "I know this is hard. But this is for the best. For everyone. Especially for you. We can make this work. We can co-parent, unofficially. We'll find a way." He offered a weak, placating smile, as if this monstrous arrangement was something I would accept.

"Co-parent?" My voice rose. "You want me to raise my child in secret, while you parade her, the 'true' heir, around? You want me to be your mistress, your secret baby mama?"

"No, no, of course not!" He sounded genuinely shocked, as if he hadn't considered the implications of his own words. "I just... I want us to be a family. A different kind of family. We'll still be together. I promise." He tried to pull me into a hug, but I stood stiff and unresponsive.

"We need to put on a united front, Alyssa," he insisted, his voice softening, "for the public. For the investors. Come, let's go to brunch. Clementina is waiting. We can discuss everything there. Just for an hour. Please." It was less an invitation and more an order, wrapped in a thin veneer of civility.

As we walked towards the dining room, Indiana, now clinging to Chase's arm, deliberately brushed past me, her hip gently bumping mine. "Such a good husband," she purred, looking up at Chase with adoration, "always thinking of others. You're so selfless."

Chase squeezed her hand, a small, intimate gesture. He looked at her, his eyes full of tenderness again, and then glanced at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

At the brunch table, Clementina greeted Chase and Indiana with effusive warmth, completely ignoring me. "Darling, you look radiant!" she gushed to Indiana. "And your little one, I can feel the Swanson strength already!"

Chase, ever the dutiful son, smiled at his mother. "She's doing well, Mother. Just a bit of morning sickness." He then turned to me, his smile dropping, and simply said, "Alyssa, eat something." It wasn't a suggestion, it was a command, delivered with a chilling lack of warmth. He reached for a croissant, offering it to Indiana first with a small, knowing smile. He knew I preferred the fruit tart. He always did.

Alyssa Bolton POV:

I pushed the plate away, my stomach churning at the thought of food. "I don't want a croissant, Chase. I want an explanation. A real one. Not this charade."

Chase sighed, a performance of long-suffering patience. He glanced at Clementina, who gave him a subtle nod. Indiana, meanwhile, dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, observing us with thinly veiled amusement.

"Alyssa, we can discuss this later," Chase said, his voice low, a warning. "In private. There's no need to make a scene."

"No need to make a scene?" I felt a hysterical giggle bubble up. "You bring your pregnant mistress to my home, announce her child is the family heir, and then tell me not to make a scene?" I finally stood up, pushing my chair back with a loud scrape against the polished floor. The sound echoed in the opulent dining room.

"I can't do this." My voice wavered, but my resolve solidified. "I can't pretend everything is fine. I can't sit here and watch you play happy families with her."

"Alyssa, where are you going?" Chase demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Away from here. Away from you. Away from this." I turned and walked out of the dining room, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I expected him to follow, to stop me, to at least try to explain. He didn't. The silence behind me was deafening, confirming my worst fears. He chose them. He chose the lie.

I walked through the silent halls of the penthouse, the place that had once been my sanctuary now felt like an opulent prison. Every expensive artwork, every designer furniture piece, felt like a monument to his betrayal. How could I have been so blind? So desperate for his love that I ignored all the red flags? I questioned every moment, every touch, every whispered promise. Was it all a performance?

I reached the master bedroom, our bedroom, and began to pack a small bag. Just the essentials. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I knew I couldn't stay. My hands trembled as I folded a sweater, a vivid memory of Chase buying it for me, telling me how beautiful I looked in blue. Lies. All lies.

A sudden knock on the door startled me. Chase stood there, leaning against the doorframe, looking almost repentant. "Alyssa, wait. Let's talk. Please."