Whose Child Is She Carrying"

On the day of our wedding anniversary, I brought a homemade, carefully packed lunch to my wife's corporate headquarters.

The receptionist froze for a solid three seconds when she saw me.

Nolan, Ms. Whitmore isn't in today. she started her maternity leave.

I stared at her. I told her I had no idea my wife was pregnant.

All the color drained from the receptionist's face. She immediately backtracked, stammering that she must have remembered the schedule wrong.

A cold chill crept up my spine. I pulled out my phone and remotely accessed the dashcam footage from Kate's luxury SUV.

The live feed showed a man carefully supporting my wife by the arm as they walked into the doors of an exclusive private maternity clinic. Their body language was undeniably intimate.

When the man turned his head in the footage, my stomach dropped. I recognized him instantly.

It was my best friend, Joshua.

Three years ago, when I was hospitalized after a severe car crash, Joshua had visited me every single day.

Back then, my wife used to tease me, saying my best buddy pampered me more than my own mother would.

I dialed Kate's number. The background noise on her end was loud and chaotic.

"What is it, honey? My meeting hasn't wrapped up yet."

The words of confrontation hovered right on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to scream and ask her why.

But I swallowed the bile down.

"Nothing. I just missed you."

I hung up the phone.

If these two pieces of trash wanted each other so badly, I would let them rot together.

I sat in the pitch black living room, my eyes locked on the front door as it finally swung open.

"Kate, was your corporate board meeting held at a maternity clinic today?"

The motion sensor lights in the entryway flickered to life.

Kate's hand was still resting gently on Joshua's forearm.

At the sound of my voice, her entire body went rigid.

Joshua instinctively shrank back, hiding slightly behind her. He gripped the lapel of Kate's tailored blazer, his eyes instantly welling up with tears.

"Kate, I told you I shouldn't have let you accompany me. Nolan is definitely misunderstanding this."

His voice was a fragile whisper, dripping with manufactured victimhood.

Kate furrowed her brow, stepping slightly to the side to shield his body with her own.

She tossed her car keys onto the credenza. The metal smacked against the wood with a jarring clatter.

"Nolan, what kind of psychotic episode are you having tonight? Are you spying on me?"

She marched toward me, her tone laced with heavy impatience.

I tossed my phone onto the glass coffee table.

The screen was frozen on a screenshot from that morning, showing her delicately helping Joshua out of the passenger seat right in front of the clinic.

"I went to your office to bring you lunch. Your receptionist told me you were on maternity leave."

I kept my voice deadpan. "I didn't even know my own wife was pregnant, yet another man is already escorting you to your prenatal checkups."

Kate glanced at the glowing screen. For a fraction of a second, guilt flashed across her face.

But she quickly squared her shoulders, her arrogance returning in full force.

"Joshua has a weak constitution. He actually fainted a few days ago."

"I took him to the clinic for a full blood panel, and I just happened to get my checkup done while we were there."

She looked down at me as if I were a speck of dirt on her designer shoes.

"When you were in that car wreck three years ago, he practically lived at the hospital taking care of you."

"Now that he's unwell, what is wrong with me, as your wife, stepping up to repay that debt of gratitude?"

Her self righteous speech actually made me laugh out loud.

"Repay my debt? So you kept it a total secret from me, took time off work, and hid your pregnancy just to keep him company?"

Joshua stepped out from behind her, fat tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

"Nolan, please don't be mad at Kate. I begged her to keep my health issues a secret. I didn't want to worry you."

He took a step forward, reaching out as if to grab my hand. I sidestepped, refusing to let him touch me.

Without my support, he dramatically stumbled forward, collapsing onto the plush living room rug.

Kate's face twisted in pure rage. She immediately dropped to her knees to help him up.

"Nolan! What the hell is wrong with you! You know his health is fragile, he can't handle this kind of stress!"

She roared at me, the veins in her neck bulging.

I looked down at my hands. I hadn't even made physical contact with the man.

"Are you legally blind, Kate? I never even touched him."

Joshua leaned his weight heavily against Kate's chest, shaking his head weakly.

"Kate, I'm fine. I just lost my balance. It's not Nolan's fault."

"My chest just feels a little tight. I think I've been standing for too long today."

Kate wrapped her arms protectively around his shoulders, whipping her head around to glare at me with absolute venom.

"Look at how bitter and toxic you've become. Where is the refined gentleman I married?"

She pointed a perfectly manicured finger right at my face.

"Let me make this perfectly clear. If anything happens to Joshua's health, I will hold you personally responsible."

I stood there, quietly watching her unhinged display.

This was the woman who had once sworn to love me for the rest of her life. Now, she was verbally eviscerating me over the pathetic lies of another man.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the intense nausea churning in my gut.

"Kate, take him and get out of my house."

She froze, clearly stunned that I had the nerve to kick her out.

She let out a sharp, condescending laugh, her eyes sweeping over me with utter disgust.

"Get your facts straight, Nolan."

"This house might have been left to you by your dead parents, but I am the one making the money to keep the lights on."

"You sit around here all day doing absolutely nothing. What right do you have to kick me out?"

My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the skin nearly broke.

Joshua gently tugged at her sleeve.

"Kate, I should just go. I don't want to be the reason you two fight. I can just stay at a cheap motel, it's fine."

Kate grabbed his hand, her voice softening into a sickly sweet croon.

"Your body is far too weak to stay in some rundown motel."

She turned back to me, her eyes hardening into ice.

"Joshua's current apartment has a terrible mold problem. He is going to stay here with us for a few days, at least until I can find him a suitable luxury rental."

I stood my ground, staring directly into her eyes.

"Absolutely not."

My defiance clearly infuriated her.

She took a threatening step toward me, radiating oppressive authority.

"I wasn't asking for your permission, Nolan. I was notifying you."

"If you refuse to apologize to Joshua right now, I won't be coming home for the next few days. You can sit here and reflect on your toxic behavior."

"Do whatever you want." I looked at her, my voice completely dead.

Kate's face turned a mottled shade of purple. She probably expected me to compromise, to grab her arm and beg her to stay like I used to. But she calculated wrong this time.

She ground her teeth, wrapped her arm securely around Joshua's waist, and marched toward the front door.

"You're going to regret this, Nolan."

The heavy oak door slammed shut, the sheer force of it rattling the walls.

The living room fell back into a suffocating, dead silence. I collapsed onto the sofa, my mind instantly drifting back to her pregnancy.

That was my child growing inside her, yet she chose to have another man by her side during the ultrasounds.

A wave of bitter acid burned my throat.

My phone screen lit up on the table. It was a text message.

From Joshua.

[Nolan, Kate insisted on booking me a suite at the Four Seasons. She said she absolutely refuses to let me suffer.]

Attached was a photo taken from behind, showing Kate standing at a marble concierge desk, handing over her platinum credit card.

I saved the screenshot to my cloud drive and immediately blocked his number.

The next morning, just as I finished a tasteless cup of black coffee, the doorbell rang.

It was Kate's executive assistant, Rachel.

"Nolan, Ms. Whitmore sent me to pick up a few things."

Rachel kept her eyes glued to the floor, actively avoiding my gaze.

Behind her stood two burly corporate bodyguards. They walked straight past me and headed directly for the climate-controlled storage room.

A moment later, they started carrying out the premium reserve tonics and imported truffles my parents had left me before they passed away.

I stepped firmly into the hallway, blocking their path.

"Who gave you permission to touch those?"

Rachel wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

"Nolan, Ms. Whitmore said Joshua's body is incredibly fragile and he needs high-end nourishment."

"She mentioned that these items were just gathering dust in here anyway."

I let out a harsh, barking laugh. She wanted to take my deceased parents' legacy to feed her pathetic little sidepiece?

"Put them down. Tell her to come get them herself if she wants them so badly."

The words had barely left my mouth when Kate's icy voice echoed from the open doorway.

"Excuse me? Am I no longer allowed to make decisions about the inventory in my own home?"

She was wearing the exact same designer suit from yesterday. She clearly hadn't come home last night.

Kate strode into the foyer, waving her hand to signal the bodyguards to continue carrying the boxes.

"Nolan, you can't possibly consume all of this by yourself."

"Joshua is recovering, and his body needs these exact nutrients."

She walked right up to me, holding out an open palm.

"Give me the keys to your loft studio in the South End."

My head snapped up. I stared at her in utter disbelief.

That studio was my sanctuary.

It was my private creative base where I worked under my secret illustration pseudonym, "Ronin".

Every inch of that space held my blood, sweat, and artistic soul.

"Why the hell do you need the keys to my studio?"

Kate spoke as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Joshua says the recycled air in the hotel suite is making him claustrophobic. It's bad for his recovery."

"Your studio has great natural light and a private courtyard. I'm lending it to him for a while."

She paused, a mocking smirk playing on her lips.

"It's not like you're doing anything important there anyway."

"Those messy little sketches of yours don't bring in a dime. We might as well put the real estate to some practical use."

I stared at her, my blood boiling.

"That is my workspace. It's not a halfway house for your stray trash."

Kate's eyes darkened instantly.

"Watch your mouth, Nolan. Since when did Joshua become trash?"

Without warning, she lunged forward and grabbed the canvas tote bag resting on the entryway console.

"Give that back!" I lunged to grab it out of her hands.

Using her height advantage in heels, she held the bag high out of my reach with one hand.

With her other hand, she ruthlessly tipped it upside down, dumping the contents all over the hardwood floor.

Keys, my phone, and my hand-drawn conceptual drafts scattered everywhere.

My heart skipped a beat. I immediately dropped to my knees to rescue the delicate drafting paper.

But Kate was faster. She stepped forward, the sharp stiletto heel of her shoe planting directly in the center of my artwork.

She bent down and snatched the keyring holding the studio keys.

"You're an unemployed bum who paints to kill time, and you actually think you're some kind of tortured artist?"

She tossed the keys in the air and caught them, her lips curling into a cruel, satisfied smile.

"I'm taking these."

"You better stay out of trouble for the next few days. If you go to the studio and harass Joshua, I'll make you regret it."

I stared at the crumpled, dirt-stained paper trapped under her heel.

It was a commercial piece I had spent three agonizing months perfecting.

My chest physically ached, my heart contracting in sharp, jagged spasms.

"Kate, if Nolan really doesn't want me there, we can just forget it."

"I really don't want to be the wedge that drives your marriage apart."

Joshua's fragile, breathy voice floated in from the front porch.

"Why wouldn't he want you there? I'm the one paying the lease on that property anyway."

Kate turned her head, her voice melting into absolute honey as she spoke to the man outside.

She didn't even bother to give me a second glance as she turned to leave.

I scrambled up from the floor and blocked the doorway.

"Give me the keys." I stared into her eyes, emphasizing every single syllable.

Kate scowled, her patience completely evaporated.

"Are you psychotic, Nolan? It's just a dusty old room. Are you seriously going to throw a tantrum over this?"

Joshua stood on the porch, looking at me with wide, pitiful eyes.

"Nolan, I know you hate me, but I really am sick."

"I just wanted a quiet place to breathe and rest."

"Drop the act," I snapped, pointing a finger at him.

"You know exactly what you're doing, you parasite."

Joshua's face went chalk white. He swayed dramatically, stumbling backward two steps as if he had been physically struck.

Kate exploded. She shoved me with both hands, her strength fueled by sheer fury.

"That is enough!"

Her push caught me completely off guard.

I lost my footing, stumbling backward. The base of my spine slammed violently into the sharp, solid edge of the heavy oak shoe cabinet.

A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through my lower back, shooting down my legs.

I gasped, instinctively clutching my spine as my legs gave out.

I slid down the wooden cabinet, collapsing onto the floor. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my shirt, sticking to my skin.

Kate stood over me, looking down without a single ounce of pity in her eyes.

"Stop playing dead. If you want to fake an injury, at least try to make it look convincing."

She grabbed Joshua's arm, supporting his weight, and walked right out the door.

The heavy front door clicked shut once again.

I lay curled on the cold floor, the agony in my spine so intense I couldn't even draw a full breath.

My hands shaking violently, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed for an ambulance.

Hours later, in a sterile hospital room.

The emergency room doctor held up my X-ray scans, his face grim.

"Mr. Whitmore, you've sustained severe trauma to your lumbar vertebrae."

"You are going to need strict bed rest for the next several days. Absolutely no physical strain, or you risk permanent nerve damage."

I lay flat on the stiff hospital mattress.

My mind drifted to the artwork destroyed under her designer heel.

Then to the child, my child, growing inside her womb.

A hollow, rhythmic pain pulsed in my chest.

I lay in that hospital bed for an entire day. By nightfall, the acute, stabbing pain in my back had dulled to a heavy ache.

Suddenly, panic set in. I realized my finalized commercial commission, a massive canvas piece, was still sitting on an easel in the South End studio.

If Joshua ruined it, the breach of contract penalty would completely bankrupt me.

I ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Ignoring the bleeding, I forced myself upright, gritting my teeth against the pain, and hailed a cab to the studio.

The front door of the loft was unlocked.

I pushed it open, and the sight before me nearly tore my soul apart.

Tubes of my imported, custom-mixed oil paints, worth tens of thousands of dollars, had been slashed open and stomped into the floorboards.

In the center of the room, Joshua was standing with a pair of heavy fabric shears, carving jagged gashes into my nearly finished masterpiece, The Cosmos.

"What the hell are you doing!" I roared, lunging forward and ripping the scissors out of his grip.

He shrieked, instantly dropping to the floor. He curled into a ball, clutching his chest and wailing at the top of his lungs.

"Ah! My chest! It hurts so much. Nolan, why did you shove me?"

The rapid clicking of heels echoed from the hallway. Kate burst into the room.

Seeing Joshua writhing on the paint-stained floor, her eyes turned bloodshot.

Without asking a single question, she spun around and delivered a brutal, ringing slap across my face.

The crack of her palm against my cheek echoed in the empty loft.

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. My head snapped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

"You absolute psycho! You know how weak his heart is, how could you be so vicious?"

I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, pointing a trembling finger at the shredded canvas on the easel.

"He destroyed my life's work! He is playing you for a total fool!"

"Why are you defending him? You didn't even ask what happened before you hit me!"

Kate didn't even glance at the ruined painting. She dropped to her knees, carefully gathering Joshua into her arms.

"Are a few sheets of trash paper more important than a human life?"

"I am warning you right now. If Joshua's condition worsens, I will make you pay with your life."

She practically carried him out of the room, rushing down the stairs.

I slumped against the wall of my ruined sanctuary, surrounded by the wreckage of my art.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

The caller ID showed Kate's name.

I pressed answer.

"Nolan, you terrified Joshua today. His heart rate is highly irregular."

"He's hooked up to an IV right now. You better drag yourself down here and apologize to him on your hands and knees."

"My spine is injured. I can't make it."

My knuckles were white as I gripped a torn shred of my canvas. My voice trembled with exhaustion.

A sharp, mocking scoff echoed through the phone speaker.

"Your spine? Nolan, if you're going to lie to get out of trouble, at least invent something creative."

"Tonight is the Whitmore Group's annual anniversary gala. Even if you have to crawl on your hands and knees, you will show up."

She paused, her tone dropping into a sinister, icy threat.

"The tabloids are already spinning rumors that our marriage is falling apart. If you don't show up tonight to play the loving husband and save our stock prices."

"Tomorrow morning, I will permanently cancel the maintenance funds for your parents' cemetery plot."

My fist clenched so hard my fingernails drew blood.

My parents were buried in the most exclusive, expensive memorial park in the city. It was the ultimate leverage she had over me, and she knew exactly how to use it.

"Send the address," I ground out between clenched teeth.

An hour later.

Wearing a loose-fitting black suit to hide my stiff posture, I walked into the grand ballroom of a luxury downtown hotel. My face was pale, my movements slow and calculated.

The ballroom was an ocean of designer gowns, champagne flutes, and blinding camera flashes.

Kate was wearing a breathtaking custom haute couture gown, radiant and glowing as she mingled with corporate elites.

And standing right beside her, wearing a bespoke tuxedo and a sickeningly smug smile, was Joshua.

Gleaming on his wrist was a limited edition luxury watch.

The exact watch Kate had gifted me for my birthday last year.

I stared at the scene, the nausea churning violently in my stomach.

Kate spotted me from across the room. Her smile faltered, and she marched over, her brow heavily furrowed.

"You look like you're attending a funeral. Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?"

She hissed the warning under her breath.

I ignored her completely, walking straight past her to sit at an empty table in the corner.

The throbbing pain in my lumbar spine was intensifying by the minute. I needed to conserve every ounce of energy just to stay upright.

The host took the stage, tapping the microphone and inviting Kate up to give the keynote address.

Kate stood bathed in the spotlight, pulling Joshua up to stand right beside her.

"Tonight, as we celebrate the anniversary of the Whitmore Group, I have a very special announcement to make."

Her voice boomed through the high-end sound system, commanding the room.

"Mr. Joshua here will officially be joining the Whitmore Group as our new Executive Art Director."

"Furthermore, he will be the sole creative force behind the highly anticipated 'Cosmos' illustration exhibition opening next month in the city center."

The ballroom erupted into thunderous applause.

I sat frozen in my chair, feeling as if a lightning bolt had struck me directly in the chest.

That was my exhibition. I had spent six grueling months planning it.

She hadn't just shredded my original drafts. She had taken my blood, sweat, and tears, and slapped her lover's name on all of it.

I slammed my hands onto the table, forcing myself to stand. I shoved my chair back and marched toward the stage.

"Kate, what gives you the right to hand my life's work over to him?"

I pointed directly at the two of them, my voice shaking with pure, unadulterated rage.

The applause died instantly. Every single eye in the ballroom snapped toward me.

Joshua immediately shrank behind Kate's back, his eyes widening in performed terror.

"Nolan, what are you talking about? I painted every single piece for that exhibition with my own two hands."

Kate's face turned completely purple. She glared at the security detail standing near the stage.

"Are you idiots deaf? Drag this lunatic out of here right now!"

Four massive security guards in black suits rushed forward. Two of them grabbed my arms, twisting them painfully behind my back.

"Let go of me!" I thrashed wildly against their grip.

Kate walked down the steps of the stage, stopping inches from my face.

"Nolan, are you so consumed by jealousy that you've lost your mind?"

"You are a useless leech who can barely hold a paintbrush straight. You honestly expect these people to believe you created art of that caliber?"

She looked down at me, her eyes filled with absolute venom and disgust.

"Get on your knees and apologize to Joshua this instant. If you refuse, I promise you won't walk out of here tonight."

The surrounding guests began to whisper, the gossip spreading like wildfire.

"Mr. Whitmore is acting like a hysterical madman."

"I heard he's incredibly paranoid. He attacks any young artist Ms. Whitmore decides to sponsor out of pure jealousy."

The guards shoved my shoulders down, kicking the backs of my knees to force me to the floor.

The violent downward pressure triggered an explosive, blinding agony in my injured spine. My vision whited out, my consciousness slipping away.

I squeezed my eyes shut in total despair.

Just as my knees were about to hit the cold marble floor.

The heavy double doors of the ballroom were violently kicked open with a deafening crash.

A low, glacial female voice sliced through the silence of the room.

"Whoever dares to touch him will lose their hands tonight."