​If You Stray, I Won't Stay

**On our wedding anniversary, my husband didn't bring me flowers. He brought home his mistress.** "Lavinia is back," he stated coldly. "It's time you stepped aside. After all, she is the one who gave me a son." I froze, clutching the hand of our adopted son—the boy I had raised and loved with my whole heart for years. The truth hit me like a physical blow: *I had been raising his mistress's child as my own all this time.* My fingers tightened around the pregnancy confirmation hidden in my palm. I forced down the bile rising in my throat, looked him in the eye, and demanded a divorce. *** **Six months later.** I stood at the airport departure gate, looking down at my ex-husband. He was on his knees in front of everyone, begging. "Scarlett, please! Don't leave. I know about the pregnancy... I'm that baby's father!" I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "No. This baby is mine and mine alone. He doesn't have a father."