My Wife Lied About Infertility,Until Her Secret Son Appeared

Start Reading

On the night of my twenty-fourth birthday party, my fiance slept with the boy we'd been sponsoring since he was fourteen.

When I found out, I demanded we call off the engagement. Vivienne Ashford brought both sets of parents together and dropped to her knees in front of me, eyes brimming with tears, begging for forgiveness.

Under pressure from both families, and with a five-billion-dollar joint venture hanging in the balance, I caved.

Three days after the wedding, she was in a car accident. It damaged her uterus.

To protect her dignity, I told the world I'd chosen to be child-free. That I simply didn't want kids.

Four years later, I was flipping through channels and landed on a foreign variety show. There, on the screen, was my wifeplaying games with a little boy.

The investigation that followed uncovered everything. Four years ago, Vivienne had set up a home abroad with Caleb Fox. They had a son together. Mason Fox.

She was pregnant again.

I stormed into her office to confront her, but the door was ajar, and I heard her mid-conversation with a friend.

"Back then, you and Caleb fooled around, and Adrian Caldwell only said a few harsh words about it. To punish him for that, you kept him from touching you for four whole years? You're really something."

Vivienne Ashford was draped across her executive chair, legs crossed, a cold smile curling her lips.

"He should've just played the obedient cuckold. Consider it a lesson."

"Once Mason's old enough, I might bring him back to inherit the company. Adrian gets a grown son handed to him on a silver platter. He should be grateful."

My blood turned to ice.

All those years. Consulting every specialist on the continent. Swallowing my pride as a man to beg, to plead, to be gentle with her. And this was what it bought me. Betrayal. Deception. A con running four years deep.

Fine. This loveless, sexless marriage was over.

But the conversation inside kept going.

"Vivienne, honestly, Adrian's been good to you. A man born with a silver spoon, and he spent years tracking down fertility specialists for your sake. He even climbed a mountain on his knees to pray at a temple."

"Don't you think this is a little cruel? Making him live like a monk for the rest of his life, growing old with no children of his own? It's just... it's a lot."

Vivienne's scoff cut through the air.

"That's the price he pays for hurting Caleb."

"So what if he's some blue-blooded heir? Does that give him the right to bully a boy with no family, no connections? I'm making him taste the kind of suffering other people swallow every day. Maybe it'll teach him not to look down on everyone else."

Gwendolen Walker sighed.

"Vivienne, aren't you afraid Adrian will find out and drag you through a divorce?"

Vivienne's gaze turned sharp as a blade.

"Gwendolen. You didn't go soft and tell him, did you?"

Gwendolen shook her head and stared down at her teacup.

Vivienne's voice dropped, cold and deliberate.

"Don't ruin this for me. I've spent six months planning every detail."

"I promised Caleb I'd never let anyone else touch me. That his child would be my only heir. I won't let Caleb down."

Every word dripped with warning. She was terrified that even the smallest leak would collapse her scheme and break her precious Caleb's heart.

I thought of those humiliating nights. Crawling to her side of the bed. Mimicking techniques I'd found in online videos, desperate to arouse some response in her.

She'd lain there with her face flushed crimson, jaw clenched, forcing herself still.

I'd thought she was embarrassed. Overwhelmed by shyness.

She'd been gritting her teeth to stay faithful to her lover.

I stood outside that door, listening, and every word drove another shard of ice through my chest.

This wasn't just betrayal. This was cruelty with a blueprint.

Four years of whispered gossip in high society. Four years of pitying glances and veiled insults. I'd endured all of it with my teeth clenched shut.

My knees still bore the scars from kneeling on cold stone steps at that mountain shrine. Every time it rained, the old wounds ached.

I remembered draping the blessed charm I'd brought back around Vivienne's neck, reverent as a pilgrim.

And what had she been doing while I knelt and prayed?

Rolling around in bed with the boy we'd raised, lost in each other, laughing at how stupid I was. How pathetic.

Then she let her circle of friends look me over with those pitying, mocking eyes.

I wiped my tears, turned, and walked away. Then I canceled the specialist appointment I'd booked for Vivienne.

The receptionist on the other end of the line was baffled.

"Mr. Caldwell, you pulled every string you had to get Professor Kemistry on board. Why would you cancel now?"

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Because my wife got better. She even had a big, healthy baby boy."

That evening, when Vivienne came home, I nearly lost control. I wanted to rush at her, tear her apart.

I wanted to demand answers. Why? Why would you lie to me like this?

Was it all because I'd exposed what was going on between her and Caleb?

Four years. Four years of agony. From heartbreak to worry, to finally resigning myself to a lifetime of celibacy by her side. And in the end, all of it was nothing but a joke.

I watched Vivienne stroll into the living room without a care in the world. She pulled me into her arms and kissed my forehead.

"Honey, you can try that new technique you learned tonight. Maybe it'll work this time."

My gaze locked onto her face, searching for even the faintest trace of guilt.

In the end, I clenched my jaw and nodded.

"Sure."

That night, Vivienne showered, then lay naked on the bed while I changed into the outfit she'd requestedsome gaudy, glittering thing that belonged in a nightclub.

She raised an eyebrow and gestured for me to get on my hands and knees.

I let out a cold laugh, studying her expression carefully. I followed the line of her gaze, and that was when I finally spotted it.

On the massive wedding portrait hanging across from the bed, right where her eyes were in the photo, there was a faint, almost imperceptible glint of light.

It hit me all at oncewhy she'd been so willing to "try" all those countless times.

Before I could react, Vivienne grabbed my arm and shoved me down.

The thought of who might be watching on the other side of that tiny camera lens sent a wave of nausea crashing through me. My stomach heaved, and I vomitedright onto her.

Vivienne recoiled in disgust, shoving me away and leaping off the bed.

"Adrian, if you're repulsed by me, just say so. You don't have to be this revolting about it."

"Starting tonight, you sleep in the guest room. Don't bother forcing yourself anymore."

If this had been any other time, I would have swallowed my pride, coaxed her back, and submitted to another round of humiliation just to keep her happy.

But this time, I simply stood, wiped the filth from the corner of my mouth, said "Fine," and walked out.

Vivienne froze. A second later, a teacup exploded against the floor behind me.

"Adrian! I knew it. You were never sincere about us. It's only been four years, and you're already disgusted with me, aren't you?"

I stopped. Turned slowly. Looked at her with a hollow, self-mocking smile.

"Vivienne. Doesn't any of this disgust you?"

Something in my expression must have registered, because her fury stalled mid-sentence. The outrage froze on her face, and her eyes darted away, unable to hold mine.

"Adrian, what are you talking about? We're husband and wife. There's nothing disgusting about what we do."

I slammed the door shut. I couldn't stand to look at her for another second.

The sweet, vibrant girl I'd once known was gone. All that remained was something vile and shameless.

The next day, while she was at work, I hired a private investigator.

When he laid the files and the videos in front of me, my legs gave out. I collapsed into the chair. In that moment, I wanted to destroy her.

Vivienne. How could you do this to another human being? Doesn't it keep you up at night?

Fine. Then every last thing you've done to me, I will repay double.

I shut myself inside the house for three days straight. I couldn't bring myself to watch those videos.

I couldn't even begin to think about how many people already had.

When Vivienne came home, she found me slumped by the window, drunk out of my mind.

She walked over and pulled me into her arms with a sigh.

"Adrian, I'm sorry. Has someone been running their mouth again? If it's too much for you, we can get a divorce."

She looked so heartbroken, so devoted.

I eased out of her embrace without letting anything show, staring hard into her eyes, searching for even a trace of genuine sorrow, searching for some sign that everything I'd given over the years had been worth something.

"Vivienne, I haven't done anything wrong. Why would you do this to me?"

She froze for a moment, then her eyes rimmed red with what looked like hurt.

"Adrian, I'm not a woman. I understand if you resent me for that. But I really don't want to leave you." Her voice cracked, and she buried her face against me, sobbing.

In that moment, I seemed to see the Vivienne from ten years ago.

Back then, she followed me everywhere, calling me her big brother, pressing the best pastries into my hands.

She even carried me on her back when we went hiking, all the way to the summit.

Under a sky blazing with stars, the girl's eyes shone brighter than any of them. She gripped my hand tight. "Big brother, I never want to leave you. Not in this lifetime. Can we stay together forever?"

Back then, I believed we would.

That changed the day Vivienne and I took a trip to the mountains and came across a fourteen-year-old boy named Caleb Fox.

Several men had him pinned to the ground, trying to haul him onto a flatbed truck. He was on his knees, thrashing, begging.

"Dad, please don't sell me. I can chop firewood. I can work the fields. I can earn money."

Tears cut streaks through the dirt caked on his dark face. His hair was a matted, brittle mess.

From the murmurs of the people gathered around, I pieced together the story: his own father was selling him to a sixty-year-old man to work as a cattle herder.

Pity seized me on the spot. I barked at the men until they backed off and pulled the boy behind me.

After a heated argument, Vivienne handed over all the money we'd budgeted for the trip to Caleb's father, freeing the boy. She promised to sponsor his education going forward.

I never expected that the day he graduated college, Caleb would show up in Riverport looking for Vivienne and plant himself at her side as her assistant.

He played the victim at every turn, acting meek and timid around me, as if I were the one bullying him.

More than once, Vivienne told me Caleb was easily frightened, that I shouldn't be so forceful when I spoke to him, that I needed to be gentler.

I assumed he was just someone who couldn't handle himself in polished company. It never occurred to me that every stumble, every flinch, was a carefully laid trap.

Then came my birthday. I offered him a glass of fruit wine, trying to be kind.

"Caleb, let me introduce you to some friends. You should hang out with them more."

He took two sips and immediately went whimpering to Vivienne, claiming he felt dizzy, claiming I'd forced him to drink.

Then he collapsed into her arms.

The look Vivienne gave me that night could have drawn blood. She said nothing. She just gathered Caleb up and carried him to the second floor.

When I found them, they were lying on the bed together, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I lost my mind. I screamed at Vivienne, demanded we call off the engagement.

In the end, after her desperate pleas and both sets of parents stepping in to mediate, I was naive enough to believe it was over.

What I didn't realize was that a seed of hatred had already taken root.

Vivienne decided I had humiliated her on purpose. And she set out to punish me for the rest of my life.

I lifted my hand and rested it on her head, a cold smirk pulling at my lips.

"Vivienne, if you had to choose between me and Caleb, which one of us would you not be able to let go?"

Panic flashed through her eyes.

"Adrian, why would you bring him up out of nowhere? Did someone say something to you?"

"I cut contact with him a long time ago. Don't overthink this."

I lowered my gaze, wiped the tears from my face, and stood up without a word.

"Nobody said anything."

"I was just feeling sentimental. If I hadn't let Caleb drink that night, maybe he'd still be your good little assistant."

Vivienne's expression visibly tensed. Her spine went rigid, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

"Adrian, how could I possibly keep him as an assistant forever? He was clumsy and useless. Why, did someone say something to you?"

I let out a dry laugh, bracing myself against the wall as I made my way slowly toward the bedroom. My hand was clenched around the phone, around the message Caleb had just sent me.

"Adrian, you want to know what Vivienne says about you? The great young master of the Caldwell family, worse in bed than a nightclub escort."

"Oh, and to prove her devotion to me, every time you stripped down and tried to seduce her, she made sure to video-call me. I figured I shouldn't let it go to waste, so I set up a livestream. Over a million viewers tuned in. Everyone agreed you really know how to put on a show."

Vivienne, if you betray me, I will never let it go. I will make sure you pay for every last thing.

I deleted every message in silence. No confrontation. No screaming.

Because I knew that if screaming solved problems, the king of the jungle wouldn't be the tiger. It would be the donkey.

The five-year partnership between our families reached its successful conclusion.

I deliberately chose Blueberry Manor and invited every friend, relative, and business partner to celebrate together.

That day, I prepared a special gift for Vivienne. She giggled and asked what it was.

A set of lingerie? Some new trick I'd learned?

I just smiled and told her it would be something she'd remember for the rest of her life.

Crystal chandeliers cast their light across the gala, glinting off champagne flutes raised in toast after toast. Vivienne took my arm, and together we walked onto the stage.

Fireworks burst above our heads, marking the success of the Caldwell-Ashford partnership.

I smiled, accepted the signed contract, and secured everything that belonged to the Caldwell family.

As thunderous applause filled the room, I took the microphone and swept my gaze across the crowd.

"Distinguished guests, dear friends and family, today isn't just the successful conclusion of the Caldwell-Ashford partnership. It also marks my fifth wedding anniversary with Vivienne."

"Tonight, I have a grand gift for her. And I'd like all of you to bear witness to the five years of devotion Vivienne has shown me."

As the applause died down, several bodyguards carried in two enormous crates, each wrapped in silk ribbon tied into an elegant bow.

I smiled and gently guided Vivienne toward the crates, gesturing for her to open them.

The entire room fell silent. Necks craned. Every eye fixed on those oversized crates, everyone wondering what extravagant gift could possibly be inside.

Vivienne beamed and pinched my cheek playfully. Then she reached for the latch, flipped it open, and threw back the lid with a sharp crack.

Under her stunned gaze, a man slowly rose from inside the crate. The instant he looked up and saw Vivienne standing before him, his face crumpled and he burst into tears, throwing himself into her arms.

"Babe, you scared me half to death! Didn't you tell me to bring our son back for the celebration?"

"We just got off the plane and someone shoved us into crates. You're so mean. You can't scare people like that!"

His tears turned to laughter as he wrapped his arms around Vivienne's neck.

Three seconds of dead silence.

Then the room erupted.

"What the hell is going on? Why is this man calling Vivienne his wife?"

"He brought their son? I thought Vivienne couldn't have children!"

The color drained from Vivienne's face. She spun around and threw open the second crate. Inside, her son lay with his eyes shut tight, sleeping soundly.

Vivienne lunged forward and scooped the child into her arms, calling his name over and over.

But the little boy only slumped against her shoulder, limp and motionless.

Panic seized her. She patted his back, shook him gently, then whipped her gaze toward me.

"Adrian, what did you do to Mason Fox?!"

I strode forward with a cold smile, my gaze cutting into her like a blade.

"Vivienne, why so nervous? Don't tell me this is your son."

I paused, letting the words sink in.

"Oh, right. I forgot. Our esteemed Ms. Ashford was in that terrible car accident. She probably couldn't have produced such an adorable child."

As I spoke, I dragged the edge of my fingernail lightly across the boy's cheek, leaving a thin red mark.

Vivienne froze. It took less than a second before she forced a smile through the panic written all over her face.

"Adrian, don't misunderstand. This child... this child is..."

For all her cunning, the great Ms. Ashford couldn't conjure a convincing excuse on the spot.

Then something seemed to click. She grabbed the boy and thrust him toward me.

"Adrian, this is Caleb's nephew. Caleb knew we couldn't have children, so out of gratitude for everything we've done for him, he offered the boy to us as our own son."

Her voice steadied as she spoke, growing almost buoyant, clearly pleased with the story she'd spun.

"Adrian, look how adorable he is. You've always wanted a child, haven't you? Good things come to good people. Caleb was so grateful for our support that he gave us a son."

Caleb watched the child land in my arms and nearly lunged forward. Vivienne seized his elbow and yanked him back, silencing him with a glare.

I took my time, smoothing the boy's downy hair, letting the sharp edge of my nail trace line after line across his soft cheek, each one leaving a pale streak on the delicate skin.

Caleb's eyes were rimming red, tears threatening to spill. Vivienne kept swallowing hard, her throat bobbing with every nervous gulp.

I drank it all in.

Then, without warning, I closed my hand around the child's throat and barked at Caleb.

"Do you want this boy to die in my hands?"

Caleb's composure shattered. A shrill cry tore through the ballroom.

"Adrian! That's Vivienne's son! You can't hurt her!"