Chapter 2I Only Wanted An Heir Not A Husband

My in-laws had been pressuring us for a grandchild for years.

So when I asked for a baby, Rhys didn’t put up much of a fight.

He was a man who loved to play.

As long as I initiated it, he was happy to indulge in a session in bed.

But every single time, the moment we were done, he would be called away by a woman on the phone.

This time, the call came mid-session.

The sound of his phone ringing shattered the atmosphere.

He froze, then carefully, gingerly, picked up the phone.

I don’t know what the mistress said.

Rhys pulled away from me, dressed, and walked out.

This had never happened before.

In the past, even when his mistresses called, he would put them on speaker.

He would be driving into me on one side, while enjoying my pained expression as he whispered crude jokes into the phone to the woman on the other end.

The woman would pout and feign offense on the line.

He would mock me, saying he could never love me, that I was just a domestic obligation.

I had listened to variations of that speech for five years.

Now, this hundredth mistress had managed to make Rhys halt what he was doing and rush to her side.

She had some kind of power.

Ding-dong.

The mistress’s text popped up:

[Rhys really loves me. He ran right to me after one phone call.]

[If you have any sense, agree to the divorce immediately. Stop clinging to him.]

I chuckled quietly:

[How can you be so sure he loves you? The last time I checked, he was still forcing himself on me just moments ago.]

Silence from the other end.

She must have been fuming.

Getting angry over that?

The position of Mrs. Blackwell was not so easily earned.

Of the ninety-nine mistresses before her, how many hadn't I personally seen?

Rhys used to make me run errands, sending me out late at night to buy contraceptives.

If we got carried away and forgot protection, he’d instruct me to make sure his mistress took the morning-after pill.

Rhys had a gift for turning the knife.

I’d send one mistress away, and he’d find another one immediately.

Then he’d toss me a consolation prize—a diamond, a trust fund deposit—just to keep me from reporting him to the in-laws.

But his actions never truly cut me.

And naturally, I never considered reporting him.

The more chaos he created, the more beneficial it was for me.

Seeing the faint second line appear on the pregnancy stick, I immediately went to the doctor.

Upon confirmation of the pregnancy, I told my in-laws first.

Overjoyed, they invited Rhys and me to the family estate for a congratulatory dinner.

That night, a heavy snow began to fall.

The winter wind was an icy knife.

Halfway there, Rhys took a call from his mistress:

“Ah! Rhys, help me…”

The line cut out.

He slammed on the brakes, turning to me with an urgent growl, telling me to get out.

I glanced over at his sharply chiseled face.

A look of genuine panic and deep concern was etched there.

This was a look I’d never seen for any of the previous ninety-nine women.

He was serious.

He was emotionally invested in this Skylar.

When I didn't move, he raised his leg.

His long, strong leg effortlessly kicked open the passenger door, and he shoved me out of the car.

“You go alone!”

He spat the words out in a rush of anxiety, then floored the accelerator, driving toward Skylar’s apartment.

I’d done my research on Skylar. She came from a difficult background.

She had a younger brother, and her parents strongly favored him.

She worked in a bar from a young age and had met Rhys during a drunken one-night stand.

In front of Rhys, she was harmless and innocent, a doll-faced girl whose eyes were always brimming with tears.

She always managed to look so pitiful and vulnerable.

Her eye sockets were perpetually rimmed with a faint red.

But behind his back, she often cursed me out.