The Hidden Heir’s Ten Year Wager

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The tenth time I caught her.

Cordelia Delia Jennifer in our bed, with a new man.

My reaction was less of an eruption, more of a clinical observation. I glanced at my watch, then, with a strange gentleness, offered the young man in the bed a jacket.

Isnt your prenatal appointment scheduled for the afternoon? Why the early return?

When I didnt answer, Delia kissed the new face next to her and subtly positioned herself between us, her body a shield.

Hes just a kid. Whatever your issue is, take it up with me.

She fully expected the hysteria. The screaming, the broken glass, the spectacle shed grown accustomed to.

But what she didnt know was that the ten-year wager was up.

I was finally free to leave her.

1.

Two distinct, slightly sweaty handprints marred the pristine white of our bedside wedding photo. They were placed perfectly over Delias face and mine, making it chillingly easy to visualize the casual intimacy that had just taken place.

I inhaled deeply, a long, steady breath, and turned to look at Delia.

We had one rule, Delia. No one in this house. My voice was a flat monotone. And for Gods sake, do you remember what day this is?

Delia scoffed, an indifferent smirk playing on her lips. She lit a cigarette, drew deep, and blew the acrid smoke directly into my face.

Drunk. Too many champagne bubbles to remember dates.

Her new boy, a soft-faced kid named Caspian "Cas" Miller, flinched. He fumbled with his clothes, eyes wide with panic as he looked at me.

Mr. Sinclair, Im so sorry. I didnt mean to

Seeing him struggle to zip his shirt, I stepped forward and calmly pulled the zipper up the back for him.

Its fine. You can go. I gave him a dismissive nod. I know exactly who Delia is.

This was nothing new. Drunk. Moody. Bored and needing entertainment. Any excuse would do for her.

And the kid? He wasnt the first, the third, or even the eighteenth. Why bother being angry at the wallpaper?

Cas scrambled out, terrified, and I called the housekeeper to sanitize the room. The mess, the scattered wrappersit was repulsive. I pinched the bridge of my nose, pulled out a can of disinfectant spray, and covered the area.

Thats when Delia wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. Her head, soft and heavy, nestled into my back.

Good husband. So domestic now, arent you? She squeezed me playfully. Afraid I wouldnt come back, or have you finally mastered the art of being a society wifes accessory?

She seemed satisfied with my silence, then pinched my cheek.

This is better, Wes. She chuckled. As long as you stay compliant, I promise no one will ever replace you.

She reached into a pile of glossy gift bags and pulled out a gold wristwatch, strapping it onto my wrist with practiced ease.

There. A reward. Now stop sulking. I know its our ten-year anniversary. Wipe your tears, and lets go celebrate.

She spoke casually, unaware that in the decade we'd been married, my tears had long since dried up.

I sidestepped her touch, reaching instead for the crisp document Id prepared days ago and placed it in her hands.

Delia. Were getting a divorce.

Her face froze for a beat, then she burst into laughter, loud and jarring.

Stop the drama, Weston. You know perfectly well we cant get divorced.

She gripped my jaw, her eyes sharp. Her hand traveled down my chest, landing firmly over my heart.

Go get ready. Youre coming with me to the appointment. Dont start a fight you know you cant finish.

Years ago, my love for Delia had led me to a scorched-earth break with my familythe powerful Sinclair dynasty of the San Francisco Bay Area. My father, the Magnate, had banished me, forbidding my return home. To punish my impulsive defiance, he leveraged his deep connections to ensure a legal agreement that kept Delia and me locked together: No separation. No divorce. For better or worse, we were bound for life.

Back then, Delia knelt before me, swearing she would spend that life proving my choice was worth the exile.

Two years later, she cheated for the first time. She stood there, arms around her lover, looking me dead in the eye.

Yes, Im cheating. What are you going to do about it? shed challenged. Weston, youre homeless. Youre family-less. You will be stuck with me forever!

I called home, sobbing, begging my family to let me back in. My father hung up. My mother averted her gaze. You made your bed, Wes. Now lie in it.

Knowing I was legally and financially trapped, Delia grew bolder, her conquests more public and frequent. Until now, she simply brought them home.

She had no idea that when I walked out that day, my father and I had an unstated agreement: A ten-year wager. It was a gamble on the longevity of my "true love." If I won, he would bring us home and back us fully. If I lost, I was to return and accept a prearranged, politically advantageous marriage.

Because of Delia. I had lost the marriage, the bet, and my decade. I had lost everything.

While Delia drove, I discreetly dialed a familiar number.

Dad. I lost. My voice cracked on the final word.

I honor the terms. Ill be back in the Bay Area in three days for the engagement.

2.

My father, a man who never lost a bet, offered no surprise at the inevitable outcome. He simply gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment and a brief instruction.

Weston, you are my eldest son. This empire still requires its heir. The past is the past, I wont debate it. But remember one thing.

His voice was a cold, quiet threat. Dont bring what shouldnt come. Dont leave what shouldnt stay.

Don't bring what shouldn't come: Delia's child.

Don't leave what shouldn't stay: The business empire I had built for her.

My ten years of pain were to be my final lesson.

I understand, Father.

I hung up as Delias impatient horn blasted from the driveway. I climbed into the passenger seat of her car, the seat Id bought for her, the one that now smelled faintly of another mans cologne.

The drive was silent. She pretended not to notice my profound distance. I pretended not to notice the cloying scent of cheap perfume.

As we arrived, Delia habitually reached for my arm to steady herself. Her sleeve pulled back, revealing a long, jagged scar running down her forearm.

For a moment, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. She had taken eighteen stitches for me once, ready to give up her life just so we could be together. The woman who once loved me enough to bleed for me how had she become this?

Before I could dwell on the thought, Cas, her lover, rushed over and brazenly hooked his arm through hers.

Delia, babe, you havent visited me in forever. He pouted. What brings you here? Did your kept man throw a tantrum, or can your new guy not cut it?

It was Caspian Miller, Delias current favorite and her longest-running pet project. He rubbed himself against her, acting the spoiled child. Delia merely smiled, ignoring me completely. She pulled a velvet box from her purse.

Dont be silly, Cas. Id never forget my little pet. She showed him the contents: a heavy, antique gold wristwatch. I flew to the Bay Area just for you. Now, go play. I have an appointment. Ill come find you after.

She finished by giving him a familiar, proprietary pat on his backside.

My eyes landed on the familiar timepiece. I nearly laughed. A woman who clawed her way up from nothing never wasted a dollar. An authentic watch for the lover; a passable forgery for the husband.

The cheap metal of the watch on my wrist suddenly felt scalding. I ripped it off and tossed it into the nearest public trash receptacle.

As I turned, I heard a group of people nearby, gossiping about us. One tried to move closer, but his friend pulled him back.

Are you crazy? You dont see the guy next to her?

Thats the Magnates eldest son.

The Magnates eldest son. It had been a long time since Id heard that title.

Cas overheard it too and scoffed. He looked me up and down, pure contempt in his eyes.

Magnates son? Please. Hes just a useless leach who got kicked out of his rich daddys house and sponges off Delia. A lazy gigolo. I hate parasites.

Parasite. What did that make Delia, who built her business on my money and connections? What did that make Cas, who was supported entirely by her?

When did these two connect, anyway? Was it during my first car crash? Was it when I drank myself into the ER to close a deal for Delia? Or was it the time I took a bullet for her, ending up in a coma while she was being hunted by rivals?

It was so long ago, the memory was a blur. I just remembered that while I was recovering, pale and alone in the hospital bed, Delia started sleeping with the little nurse. While I was struggling to heal, Cas was crawling all over my wife.

Years later, Cas was still this brazen. Clearly, Delia had spoiled him rotten.

But soon, they would be free to be openly together. My task now was simpler: address the inconvenience in her womb.

3.

I ignored the two of them and walked straight into the clinic.

Dr. Lee already knew Delia was pregnant. Before he could offer congratulations, I slid the medical reports across his desk.

I need you to terminate the pregnancy.

Dr. Lee stiffened, then reviewed the file with a grim expression.

Mr. Sinclair, are you certain? The baby appears perfectly healthy. You and your wife have been trying for years

Delias first miscarriage was at twenty, early in our time in Dallas. We were poor, living in a cheap, rundown apartment. She complained I couldn't give her the life she wanted, terminated the pregnancy, and threatened to leave me. I worked myself to exhaustion to build a life for her.

When our business finally gained traction, Delia crossed a local crime boss and was kidnapped. To save her, I liquidated everything and got myself hospitalized in the process. I was young, I could have recovered, but I couldn't bear to see Delia suffer. I pushed my body past its limits just so she could live the good life.

The moment I finally paused, Delia started cheating. I spent years chasing lovers and cleaning up her messes. In the process, I ignored my own health, which led to our current inability to conceive naturally.

Initially, Delia would kneel at my bedside, saying, Wes, I see everything youve done. Ill take on the burden and make up for your sacrifice.

But soon after she took over the business, shed look at me while holding another man. Wes, I know what you did, but thats in the past. I promised you I wouldnt let anyone replace you, and Ill leave all our wealth to our child. But you need to be a good boy and stop questioning my choices.

Now, I looked out the window at the two of them embracing below. I shook my head, a bitter smile touching my lips.

Prescribe a gentle course of medication. I'm returning to the Bay Area soon, and a child would be inconvenient. I added, my voice hardening, Besides, given Delias smoking, drinking, and reckless lifestyle, there is no guarantee that a child born into this chaos will be healthy.

My fathers fortune was built on my mothers family money. Once established, he acquired a rotation of mistresses and a brood of illegitimate children. That history made me crave a pure, honest relationship.

But the first time she cheated, Delia showed no remorse. She was indignant.

Weston, what the hell is wrong with you? shed yelled. Your father has dozens of mistresses. Why are you acting like a psycho when I step out once or twice? Think about what your mother did! You grew up in that worldwhy havent you learned how to be a proper rich mans husband yet?

She used my deepest, most private woundmy childhood traumaas a weapon against me. In that moment, I knew our love was dead.

But because of the ten-year agreement, I couldn't leave. I was forced to watch her violate my dignity and trample my devotion. The marriage I fought to secure became my prison. The love I desperately protected became her tool for abuse.

I had tasted enough of the family and relationship poison. I would not allow an innocent child to repeat the cycle. I would end this irreversible marriage myself.

I took the prescription, called Delia, and waited for her to pick up. Though we couldn't part as friends, I could at least attempt a final show of decency.

The phone connected. I heard the muffled sounds of Delia and Cas, mid-embrace, already engaged in suggestive banter.

A sudden, sharp pain struck my heart. I looked up at the sprawling Dallas cityscape, slowly being swallowed by the night. I wondered, for a final time, how Delia and I had ended up here.

Was it Cas?

Or was it that one incident?

4.

It didnt matter.

No reason, no excuse, could negate the concrete reality of the betrayal and the hurt.

I flagged a taxi, intending to go home and finish packing. While I waited, I spotted Delia and Cas across the intersection. They were walking hand-in-hand, two figures strolling the busy streets like a couple hopelessly in love.

Cas gently caressed Delias abdomen, his face alight with affection.

Babe, were going to be parents soon. When are you finally going to divorce that old man? he murmured. I dont want my son calling anyone else Dad!

Delia leaned into his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

Not yet. Weston still controls some core information about the company. Once I have everything completely secured, then well file the papers.

She then spoke at length about their future: their plans, their life together, how hard she would work to protect this child and give Cas the best life possible.

The words, mixed with the cold December air, felt like a thousand tiny cuts.

Finally, Delia reached up, unclasped the custom-engraved St. Christopher medalthe very one I had begged and knelt in the snow to acquire, swearing it was a talisman for our future and a symbol of my unending commitmentand fastened it around Cass neck.

Ive named our child Pax, she said softly. Peace and prosperity. A beautiful, whole family.

Pax

The child wasn't mine. The last flicker of love was a lie.

I had felt such guilt over her words years ago, losing sleep for days. To prove my love, I had literally humbled myself, walking miles in a blizzard for that piece of jewelry, vowing to make a success of myself. That unborn child was supposed to be the proof of our love.

Now, she was giving that medal, my sacrifice, to a pet, a gigolo, transferring the debt she owed me and our first child to him and his child.

I took a deep breath, trying to summon indifference. But Cas spotted me.

He smirked. Delia, your sugar-husband is checking up on you again. Look, pal, why are you still trying to be relevant?

He fiddled with the custom locket around his neck, his eyes full of sneering superiority.

If you cant satisfy your woman, dont blame other men for stepping up. Instead of standing there looking miserable, go home and figure out what youll do when she finally kicks your worthless butt to the curb!

He was trying to provoke a scene, hoping Id explode and give Delia another excuse.

But I was past caring.

By sunrise, I would be gone. Back to the Bay Area. And someone else would be taking care of the inconvenience in her womb.

I looked at Delia one last time, devoid of any feeling.

Youll regret it, Delia. I told her. Because you forgot who gave you the keys to the kingdom.

Delia started to speak, but Cas cut her off. She looked from him to me, hesitant, before finally turning back. She left me with a half-hearted, Wait for me. Ill explain tomorrow.

There would be no tomorrow.

The moon cast a cold, silver light. I dragged my exhausted body toward the port. In the final hours before dawn, I paid the housekeeper and instructed her to dispose of all my and Delias shared belongings. Then, I simply waited.

As the sun began to rise, a sleek private jet descended and stopped directly in front of me.

Young Master. Im here to take you home.

The plane climbed above the city, condensing a decade of struggle and memory into a single, distant aerial view.

From this moment on, Delia and I were separated by an ocean. Never to meet again.

...

Delia was violently awakened, dragged from the bed in a flash of black suits and efficiency. A cup of foul-tasting liquid was forced down her throat.

The child she had anticipated so eagerly soon became nothing more than a painful memory.

Furious and terrified, she glared at the dark-suited men who had invaded her hotel room. Before she could demand an answer, a newspaper was thrown at her.

The headline screamed:

THE MAGNATES ELDEST SON WEDS SHIPPING HEIRESS IN SAN FRANCISCO.

MAJOR BAY AREA INVESTORS PULL FUNDS; JENNIFER GROUP FACES CATASTROPHIC LIQUIDITY CRISIS.