Chapter 3My Wife Was Pregnant for Her First Love

Bryce Adler hurried to open the door.

Two building security officers stood outside, flanked by a group of curious neighbors.

It seemed the commotion had drawn attention, and someone had called security.

“Officers, this man broke into my home and assaulted both me and my wife!” Bryce pointed at me, his tone accusatory.

“You better clarify,” I growled. “Who’s wife are you talking about?”

The neighbors behind the officers began speaking at once.

“I’ve never seen that guy before. But Mr. Adler and Ms. Blake? They’re married—introduced themselves when they moved in,” said one male neighbor.

“Yeah, they’re a couple. We even had dinner with them once,” chimed another.

“Everyone on this floor knows Mr. Adler and Ms. Blake. This other guy looks like trouble—he’s probably some kind of criminal. Just look at Mr. Adler’s face—it’s all bruised. You should call the police!”

Bryce smirked, a triumphant and mocking expression that made my blood boil.

In a foreign land, I had no way of proving Naomi Blake was my wife.

I turned to her, barely suppressing my rage. “Naomi, tell them yourself—who are you married to?”

The neighbors turned their eyes to her.

She flushed, hesitating for a moment before finally pointing at me. Relief washed over me.

But then she opened her mouth.

“I don’t know him,” Naomi said, pointing at Bryce instead. “He’s my husband.”

My mind exploded.

I stood there, dazed and disoriented, as the police arrived and took us all in for questioning.

At the police station, Naomi finally told the truth: I was her husband.

However, because Bryce held permanent residency in London, technically making him a partial citizen, and I had assaulted him, I was held responsible.

Bryce smugly offered a deal: apologize, stop causing trouble, and let Naomi carry the baby to term, and he’d drop the charges.

I refused and was thrown in jail.

Three days later, I was released.

Standing outside, I saw Naomi waiting for me. Her pregnant belly—a symbol of betrayal—stood out starkly against the winter coat she wore.

She approached me, her tone a mix of smugness and disdain. “I begged Bryce to let you go. You see how generous he is? Not like you, always so petty.”

“Oh, you’re right,” I replied coldly. “In this modern age, sharing a wife shouldn’t be a big deal, right?”

“Do you have to be so sarcastic?” she snapped.

She handed me the key to a hotel room. “Stay here and cool off. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”

I laughed bitterly. How had this turned into my fault?

Two days later, I called Naomi and suggested we meet to “discuss things.”

She seemed relieved, thinking I had finally come around to her perspective. She eagerly set up a meeting at the Golden Banquet Hall in 7th Street.

The next afternoon, I arrived at the restaurant. A waiter led me to a private dining room, where Naomi and Bryce were already seated.

I took the seat across from them, placing my phone discreetly on the table.

The table was already laden with dishes.

“Ethan, I know I crossed a line, but you hit me, so we’re even. Let’s bury the hatchet. Here’s to a fresh start!” Bryce raised his glass in a toast.

I took a small sip.

His smirk faltered, but he didn’t press the issue.

“Ethan, Bryce is being sincere. Why can’t you just finish the drink?” Naomi chided me.

“Forget it, Naomi. Let’s get to the point,” Bryce interjected. “I’m dying, Ethan—stage IV cancer. I don’t have much time left, and I need an heir. It’s the most basic duty of a man. Please try to understand.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You look pretty healthy for someone on death’s door.”

“Looks can be deceiving. The tumors are eating me alive.” He pulled out a bank card and placed it in front of me. “Here’s $20,000. The password is Naomi’s birthday. Consider it compensation.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Why stop there? Add another zero, and Naomi’s all yours.”

“Ethan, stop being so childish!” Naomi snapped.

“Alright, alright. My bad,” I said with a smirk. “But let’s be real, $20,000 won’t even cover raising your kid.”

“Don’t worry about that. Once the baby is born, I’ll take it to my mom in the countryside to raise,” Bryce said.

“And your wife won’t find out?” I asked.

“She hates the countryside and hasn’t visited my mom since we got married. She’ll never know.” Bryce sounded almost proud.

“You’re hiding a child from your wife, and you feel no guilt?”

He sighed dramatically. “What guilt? She can’t have kids—what kind of wife is that?”

“And you found someone who could lay eggs for you. How convenient.” I emphasized the word “eggs,” my voice dripping with mockery.

Naomi bristled. “Ethan, you’ve taken the money. Shouldn’t you be satisfied?”

I chuckled. “Sure, let’s settle this. But this isn’t a three-person decision.”

“What do you mean?” Bryce and Naomi asked in unison.

At that moment, the door burst open.