My Alpha Divorce To Raise His Ex’s Bastard Novel – On our third wedding anniversary, my loving husband, Alpha Lawrence, brought someone special home. His first love. Yeah. You read that right. Miranda Jennings—his so-called fated mate—waltzed through the front door like she owned the place, one hand on her slightly swollen belly, the other looped through his arm. “Miranda was tricked by a scumbag and got pregnant.,” Lawrence said, not even bothering to meet my eyes.
“She’s all alone and struggling with no one to rely on. I’ve decided to divorce you temporarily, marry Miranda to give her child a legitimate name, and spare the kid the stigma of being labeled illegitimate.” I glanced down at my own stomach, rounder than Miranda’s and gave a quiet nod. “Alright.” He didn’t even blink. Just pulled the divorce papers from his coat like this was all pre-planned. I flipped through the documents. I wasn’t expecting fairness, but one clause made my hands still.
The wife leaves with nothing. No home. No support. Leaves with nothing for three years of service. Lawrence cleared his throat awkwardly. “Miranda suggested this. Since this is just a temporary divorce, and we’ll remarry after her pup is born, there’s no need to divide assets. It would be too troublesome.” Then he actually had the nerve to say, “You’re not upset, are you?” I looked down, signed my name, and handed it over. “No,” I said. “Not upset.” He looked… relieved. Maybe even grateful.
“I know you don’t have anywhere to go right now, so feel free to stay in the villa for a bit. We’ll remarry next year.” I said nothing. Because there was no way in which I’d marry him again. Before I could stand, Miranda plucked the documents from his hand like they were some kind of victory trophy, then curled her fingers around his arm. “We’re running late for the prenatal check-up. Let’s hurry.” He nodded. Took her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She shot me a glance before leaving—a little smirk, like she’d won. Like I was the one who never stood a chance. As soon as the door closed behind them, I picked up my phone and called the hospital. Not to reschedule my prenatal check-up. To schedule an abortion. — Fate’s funny like that. We arrived at the hospital around the same time. I stayed quiet, walking a few paces behind them. Lawrence was treating Miranda like she was made of crystal—hand on her back, whispering sweet nothings.
She clung to him like they were the only two people who mattered. They looked like they belonged together. I walked right past them and into the operating room. The procedure was fast and clinical. When it was over, I lay in recovery, pale and hollow, waiting for the observation window to pass. My phone buzzed nonstop—texts, missed calls. I ignored them all until one came through.