Neither Husband Nor Son Is Mine

Every Christmas since we married, Declan booked three international plane tickets. They were for him, his daughter Daisy, and his ex-wife. It was a tradition that started before I came into his life, and it continued year after year.

When his phone rang with the special tone he had set for them, he answered right away. Daisy wanted to go to Switzerland this year, to the place where he and her mother once planned to marry. "She keeps asking what I would look like in a wedding dress there," his ex said, her voice bright and amused.

Declan did not hesitate. He began making arrangements for a bridal gown fitting for Daisy. His ex-wife paused, then asked, "But what about Vivian?"

"Vivian understands," Declan replied, not lowering his voice even though I was sitting beside him. "She would not be upset with a child. I promised Daisy she would be my only child. It is only a dress. Her happiness comes first."

My hand closed around the ultrasound report in my pocket. I smoothed the paper gently, then released it.

All right, Declan. If your promise is to have only one child, then my child and I will help you keep that promise.

Declan flew back to Boston right on our wedding anniversary.

The moment he walked through the door, he pulled a signature orange designer box from behind his back. But before he could even hand it to me, that familiar music box melody chimed again.

He froze for a second, then answered it anyway.

"I am busy right now."

On the other end of the line, his ex-wife Vanessa spoke through thick, theatrical sobs. "I know you are busy. But Daisy just got home and she has been crying hysterically for you."

Declan's posture instantly went rigid.

"Did you tell her I didn't want her again?"

He hung up the phone and looked at me, his eyes swimming with genuine guilt. He lowered his voice, adopting that soft, placating tone I knew too well.

"You have been mentioning how much you love this bag. Look, I really need to check on Daisy. Vanessa cannot handle her alone..."

Before I could say a word, he turned around and walked right back out the door.

I was already used to it.

As long as his ex-wife and daughter needed something, I would forever be second place.

By ten o'clock that night, Declan still had not returned.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand.

Declan's voice sounded heavy with exhaustion. "I won't be able to come home for the next couple of days."

"Vanessa's mother has terminal cancer. We have been keeping our divorce a secret from her so she doesn't lose hope. I need to go back to their hometown with them and stay for a few days..."

Listening to the hum of the highway tires through the receiver, a hollow laugh escaped my lips.

"So your perfect family of three is already on the road, and you are only telling me now?"

My chest felt incredibly tight. I pressed end before he could utter another excuse.

Declan returned to the city three days later. The very first thing he did was rush to his office to put out corporate fires.

By the time he finally got home, the sun was setting. I was just walking through the front door myself.

He reached out tentatively, trying to pull me into a hug. Even his embrace felt drained and obligatory.

"Thank you for holding the fort these past few days, honey."

I shifted the heavy bags of groceries in my hands, forcing a faint smile. "I have something to tell you. But you look dead on your feet. Go get some sleep first."

Seeing that I wasn't throwing a tantrum, his shoulders finally dropped. He slipped off his jacket and collapsed into the sofa.

"Okay. Whatever my wife is cooking, I am eating every last bite."

He was fast asleep before he even finished the sentence.

Playing the devoted son-in-law to a dying woman while taking care of his ex-wife and child must have been truly exhausting.

I stood there in the quiet living room, gripping my medical report. I squeezed the paper several times, but in the end, I couldn't bring myself to wake him.

The next day was Saturday. I had lost all appetite for cooking, so I told Declan to take me out.

Knowing he was in the wrong, he canceled a string of morning meetings, kept his phone on silent, and spent the entire car ride carefully making small talk.

I picked a quiet, upscale sushi lounge.

As I set the menu aside, he slid a velvet jewelry box across the table.

Inside was a stunning, custom engraved gold bangle. The exact one I had liked on Instagram just yesterday.

I snapped the box shut and looked up at him.

He didn't say anything. He just watched me with a soft, indulgent smile. The warm amber lighting of the restaurant softened the sharp angles of his face, making him look incredibly tender. For a fleeting second, my anger began to melt.

Maybe it was time to tell him.

I pulled my lips into a small smile. "So, I wanted to tell you..."

Before the words fully left my mouth, Declan's eyes darted to his phone screen lighting up on the table. The tenderness vanished, replaced by a flash of annoyance, quickly followed by deep anxiety.

"Vanessa has called twenty times. I am worried something happened to Daisy. Let me just step outside and call her back, okay?"

He didn't wait for my answer. He grabbed his phone, pushed his chair back, and hurried out of the private dining room.

When he returned, he wore an expression I had memorized by heart. A thin layer of guilt masking a total mental absence.

I looked at him standing there, struggling to find the right excuse. I suddenly felt so incredibly tired.

"Declan. If you walk out of here today, I promise you will regret it."

"Vivian." His tone dropped, laced with clear displeasure. "Don't do this right now. Daisy had a severe allergic reaction and is in the emergency room. Vanessa simply cannot handle this by herself."

A bitter scoff clawed its way out of my throat. "She has no friends? No family? She can't afford to hire a private nurse?"

The guilt in Declan's eyes evaporated, replaced entirely by cold anger.

"I am Daisy's father! You..."

He turned around and walked out to get his coat.

He didn't finish his sentence, but I heard it loud and clear in my head.

[She isn't your kid, so of course your heart doesn't ache for her.]

There was a hierarchy to emergencies in his life. And my matters would never, ever reach the top of his list.

A few moments later, the waitress gently opened the sliding door.

Seeing that I was completely alone, she pressed her lips together and asked softly, "Miss, would you like boxes for the rest of this? Are you about finished?"

I looked up at her. I couldn't tell if my vision was blurred from the steam of the green tea or the tears welling in my eyes. I gave a slow nod.

"Yes. I am about finished."

Later that evening, I called Declan's number.

His ex-wife answered the phone.

"Her dad just fell asleep next to Daisy. I will go wake him up."

"Don't bother. It isn't important."

Vanessa ignored my dismissal, continuing in a sickeningly sweet tone. "Her dad is just like this. He promised Daisy she would be the only child he ever has, so he spoils her rotten."

Listening to her gloat, my fingers dug into the edge of my pregnancy report.

If Daisy was his only child, then what the hell was growing inside my stomach?

The very next afternoon, Vanessa showed up at my front door.

When I opened it, she gave me a polite, practiced nod. But her eyes immediately darted over my shoulder, critically assessing the house.

It was a beautiful two-story brick colonial we had purchased after our wedding. I had designed and decorated every single inch of it myself. Clearly, it wasn't to her taste.

But right now, the only thing I found distasteful was her uninvited presence. "Can I help you?"

She pulled her gaze back and offered a thin, calculated smile.

"Daisy's dad is going to wait until her fever breaks before coming home. I came to pack a few changes of clothes for him."

I didn't blink. I turned my head and called out to my housekeeper.

"Martha. Please grab the black duffel bag from his side of the walk-in closet."

When Martha brought it down, I pushed the heavy bag toward Vanessa. "There is enough in there to last him a while."

Vanessa took the handles, eyeing Martha before looking back at me with a complicated expression. "Right."

I reached out to shut the door, but she quickly wedged her hand against the frame. She bit her lower lip, forcing out a quiet, hesitant sentence.

"You know, back when we first got married, he promised to build me a little garden just like the one you have out front."

I had no idea why she was telling me this. Did she honestly think I, the woman who met Declan two full years after their divorce, would feel guilty?

Martha stepped forward, her face stern. "Mrs. Wright needs to rest now."

Without another word, Martha firmly shut the door in Vanessa's face.

I let out a tired laugh. "Martha, have you been watching too many soap operas? Since when do you call me Mrs. Wright?"

Martha had been working for me since before I even got married. She looked at me with deep, protective frustration.

"Vivian, you are just too soft! His ex-wife comes marching up to your doorstep. Do you really not see what she is trying to do?"

I offered a bitter smile.

Of course I saw it.

Vanessa using her daughter's health to blur the boundaries and hint at a reconciliation wasn't anything new. She had done it dozens of times.

"The problem isn't her."

The problem was Declan.

Martha poured me a glass of warm milk. Her eyes drifted down to my flat stomach. She looked completely heartbroken. "You still haven't told Mr. Wright?"

I shook my head.

"You stubborn girl."

That night, Declan finally called to ask if I was asleep.

"Where are you right now?" I asked quietly.

"I am at a hotel near Vanessa's place. Work has been a nightmare lately, and every time Daisy wakes up and doesn't see me, she starts crying. I really can't pull myself away."

His exhausted voice was laced with a desperate need for me to yield.

"I know I was in the wrong at the restaurant the other day. I am so sorry. Did you see the transfer I sent you?"

I had. That afternoon, a massive sum of money had hit my bank account. It was his classic playbook for buying forgiveness.

A lump formed in my throat, choking off my air.

"Declan, can you please just come home? I..."

He cut me off. His tone was gentle, but the underlying impatience was impossible to miss.

"You have always been the understanding one. Just give me a few more days, alright? Go to sleep."

The dial tone echoed in my ear. He had chosen someone else. Again.

From the day we started dating, I had been constantly forced to be "understanding." That single word was a physical weight crushing the breath out of my lungs.

To the outside world, Declan was the ultimate catch. Even as a divorced man, he was wealthy, handsome, and fiercely responsible to his child. To me, he was generous and attentive. Our life looked absolutely flawless on paper.

Only I knew that beneath the beautiful facade, this marriage was riddled with bullet holes.

Declan finally came home at dawn, two days later.

I had been working brutal overtime hours, so I took the morning off to catch up on sleep.

When I opened my eyes, I found him kneeling beside the bed. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around my wrist, his forehead resting against the mattress.

The moment I tried to pull my hand away, he woke up.

Declan gently pressed me back down, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His voice was thick with sleep.

"You're awake? Are you feeling sick? What do you want to eat?"

I didn't want to talk to him. I just wanted to get out of bed.

He let out a heavy sigh. He stayed on his knees, shifting closer to press a soft kiss to the back of my hand. His eyes were rimmed with red, though I couldn't tell if it was from exhaustion or crying.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Martha must have lost her patience and told him herself.

"I only found out recently myself. Let me up."

He quickly stood to help me sit up against the headboard, his hands lingering carefully on my shoulders.

"What are you craving? Martha cooks a bit too salty, so I already hired a specialized maternity nutritionist. Martha will stay on just to keep you company. I also hired a landscaping crew so you don't have to bend over to prune your flowers anymore. Your job is too stressful. Why don't you quit and come work at my company?"

He kept rambling, listing off arrangements. The crushing fatigue of the past few days seemed completely washed away by the news.

He was genuinely happy. But every single arrangement he made was flawlessly efficient. Practiced.

Because this wasn't his first time doing this.

A sharp, acidic bitterness pooled in my stomach.

Sensing my dark mood, Declan stopped talking. He leaned in, trying to kiss me.

When I turned my face away, he grabbed my hand tighter.

He placed his other, perfectly warm palm flat against my lower abdomen. His eyes were filled with desperate sincerity.

"I know I made you miserable these past few days. But I swear to you..."

"I will treat this baby just as well as I treat Daisy."

There was a rare, pleading vulnerability in his gaze.

"Please don't be angry anymore, okay? It isn't good for your body. You can punish me however you want. Anything you ask, I will do it."

I slowly pulled my hand out of his grip and looked him dead in the eye.

"So, are you going to tell Vanessa and Daisy?"

The light in his eyes instantly dimmed. His heavy hesitation gave me all the answers I needed.

The bitterness in my heart bled into a mocking, frozen smile on my lips.

"What? Is our child a dirty secret? Or do you expect me to keep being 'understanding'?"

"Understanding that you will only ever acknowledge Daisy as your child in public?"

He panicked, cutting me off.

"What do you mean, a secret? The entire company has known you are my wife since the day we got engaged!"

I shoved his hand away. He had to grip my shoulders to force me to look at him.

"Just wait until the baby is a little older. Maybe one or two years old. When Daisy actually sees her little brother or sister, she will naturally accept them."

My nails dug so hard into my palms they drew blood. I finally screamed at him.

"Why the hell should they have to wait?!"

Why does a child, born perfectly legally into our marriage, have to wait in the shadows for someone else's permission to exist?

Why do I, a woman who did absolutely nothing wrong, have to constantly pay the emotional tax for his failed marriage?

Declan's eyes turned cold. He tightened his grip on my shoulders, using the same commanding stare he used to subjugate board members at his company.

Then, he finally said the words I knew he had been holding in his chest for years.

"You knew exactly what my situation was before you married me, Vivian. I never lied to you."

That screaming match ended with us sleeping in separate rooms. It marked the beginning of a suffocating, icy cold war.

Between the crushing fatigue of my first trimester and my high-pressure job, I was passing out the second my head hit the pillow every night.

But at midnight, the ringtone echoing from the guest room down the hall still woke me up.

Even with my door shut tight and the blankets pulled over my head, Vanessa's drunken, sobbing voice slithered through the cracks.

I was used to this too.

On my birthday, our anniversary, Valentine's Day, or Thanksgiving, she always, without fail, found a reason to stage a crisis.

I was just about to pull the duvet back over my head when my bedroom door slowly clicked open.

Declan stepped quietly into the room, clearly checking to see if I was awake.

I sat straight up and stared at him.

By some sick coincidence, we were both wearing the matching silk pajamas we bought on our honeymoon.

Staring at each other in the dark room, it felt unbelievably pathetic.

"Vanessa drank too much again," he said, breaking the heavy silence. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Daisy is home alone with her. I need to go check on them. I will be back soon."

I looked at the heavy wool coat already draped over his arm. "You know this is going to make me angry, right?"

He pressed his lips into a hard line. The days of cold war had left him looking absolutely drained, yet his attitude remained gentle but unyielding.

"Don't overthink this. Daisy is just a little kid. I will be back before you know it. You are pregnant. Just get some rest."

I walked out to the second-floor landing. I gripped the wooden railing and watched the little glass suncatcher hanging by the front door sway gently as he closed the heavy oak door behind him.

We had bought that suncatcher on our very first vacation together.

Under a sky full of fireworks, he had smiled at me and promised that every single day of our future would be filled with sunlight.

But the sun wasn't going to shine anymore.

The next time we stood face to face, I was going to ask for a divorce.

Two days later, I finally saw Declan again. Inside a hospital room.

And Vanessa was there too.

My hospital visit wasn't a major crisis. I had been rear-ended on my way to work. The doctor simply recommended I stay for a 48-hour observation due to the pregnancy.

When Declan burst into my hospital room, the sheer, frantic terror on his face and the explosive rage he unleashed on the poor driver who hit me almost made me forget we were in the middle of a cold war.

"I am so sorry." The driver stood there, looking completely miserable. "I just zoned out for a second. I will cover all the medical bills."

"Who gives a damn about your money?!" Declan practically snarled, cutting the man off. He stared at me with agonizing relief before whipping his head back to the driver. "If anything happens to my wife or my baby, I will destroy your life."

Seeing him play the fiercely protective husband was a jarring, ironic contrast to the sight of his back walking out on me two nights ago. I let out a soft laugh and told the driver he could leave.

"The doctor said I am perfectly fine. Besides... Mr. Wright is a very busy man. Who disturbed you enough to bring you all the way down here?"

My sarcastic jab made the veins in the back of his hand bulge.

"Your dashcam is linked to my cloud account. Vivian, can we please stop fighting?"

He opened the thermos of warm soup he had brought with him, pushing it toward me with a pleading look. "You practically scared me to death today."

I was just about to answer when someone knocked on the door.

The knock and the door swinging open happened almost simultaneously. It was Vanessa.

She also had access to Declan's vehicle tracking. Because Daisy was "used to her father's car," Vanessa borrowed his spare SUV all the time.

"Phew, I tracked your car's GPS all the way here. I had to ask four different nurses to find the right room."

Vanessa panted slightly, pushing the door shut behind her. "Vivian, are you feeling any better?"

Declan frowned. He instinctively stepped in front of my bed, shielding me. "What are you doing here?"

Vanessa immediately slipped into the tone of a complaining, exasperated wife. "What do you think? You weren't answering your phone, so I had to track you down. Daisy's parent-teacher conference is in an hour. You promised her you would go. Did you completely forget?"

Realization dawned on Declan's face. He subconsciously glanced back at me.

I let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

Hearing that, he pulled back his gaze and shook his head slightly at Vanessa.

"You go this time."

Vanessa's friendly smile vanished. She shot me a dirty look, and her eyes instantly filled with tears of betrayal.

"Excuse me? Declan, just because you have a new baby on the way, you are completely abandoning Daisy?!"

Before Declan could even open his mouth to defend himself, she steamrolled right over him, playing the fierce protector of her child.

"Daisy talks about how much she loves Auntie Vivian every single day! And this is how you two repay her? By pushing her aside like garbage?!"

"That is enough!" Declan's brow furrowed deeply. "My wife was just in a car accident and is under medical observation. Can't you handle one school meeting by yourself?"

"I don't care!" Vanessa glared at me, her voice breaking into a dramatic sob. "Daisy still doesn't know you are having a new baby. If you don't show up today, I am telling her the truth. It is exactly like they say. A stepmother makes a stepfather."

"Get out."

I cut her off with a voice made of pure ice. I clutched my stomach, fighting back a wave of nausea. "Get out of my room."

Vanessa froze. She clearly hadn't expected me to drop all pretense of politeness. She immediately looked at Declan for backup.

Seeing that Declan was already reaching for the nurse call button to have her removed, Vanessa's face flushed with fury.

"Fine! I am leaving. Enjoy your precious bed rest."

The door slammed shut with a deafening crack. I closed my eyes, my voice hollow.

"If you want to go with her, go."

Declan grabbed my shoulders, his eyes searching my face desperately.

"I will only be gone for two hours, max. If anything hurts, anything at all, you call me immediately. Okay?"

He pushed the bowl of soup aside. "This is already cold. I will have them make a fresh batch. Wait for me."

The door clicked shut again.

The exact second Declan's shadow disappeared from the frosted glass window, my phone buzzed.

A text message popped up on the screen.

[Your appointment for the medical termination has been confirmed.]

Declan. This time, no one is going to wait for you.