To clear the way for his mistress, my husband faked his own infertility and demanded a divorce. “It’s for the best,” he said, his voice thick with fake sincerity. “You don’t have to worry. I could never remarry after this. The guilt would be too much.” I cried, my sobs so violent it was hard to breathe. But the second I turned my back, I let out a sigh of relief and tossed the shredded remains of his real test results into the trash. I had been worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. Turns out, I worried for nothing. Oh, we were getting a divorce, all right. And I was going to make sure he left with nothing but the clothes on his back. When I silently agreed, he was overjoyed, already planning to welcome his pregnant mistress into our home. What my husband didn't know was that the paternity test he was holding was a fake. And the infertility report I’d just thrown away? That was the real one. 1 Holding Tyler’s medical report, my heart had been a lead weight in my chest for days. I walked in from work one evening to find his entire family sitting in our living room. The moment I stepped through the door, every head turned in unison to stare at me. Their faces were grim, their eyes a mixture of pity and judgment. For a terrifying second, I thought they knew. My heart clenched, but I forced a smile. “Mom, Dad, you’re here! You should have called. I just bought some fresh seafood. Have a seat, dinner will be ready in a bit.” I started to roll up my sleeves and head for the kitchen, but my mother-in-law’s voice stopped me. “Phoebe, wait. We need to talk to you about something.” My husband, Tyler, looked at me, his face a blank mask. “Phoebe, let’s get a divorce.” “What did you say?” I whispered, my eyes wide with disbelief. He held out a piece of paper. “A few weeks ago… Mom had us both get check-ups, remember? The results came in. I’m infertile. And it’s irreversible.” How could he have a report? I was the one holding it. It clicked. The whole family was in on it. This was a setup. My mind reeling, I took the paper from his hand, my heart pounding with suspicion. Suddenly, I remembered what a friend had told me two weeks ago. “Phoebe, I saw your husband at the OB-GYN clinic today. He was with some young woman, and she was very obviously pregnant.” “And I heard them calling each other ‘honey’ and ‘babe’!” She’d even sent me a photo. I recognized the woman instantly. She was an intern from Tyler’s office. He had told me she’d quit months ago. I had been about to call Tyler and demand an explanation when the hospital called me. They said he had left an important document at the reception desk. It was his real report. The conclusion was written in cold, clinical print: Tyler would never be able to have children. But Tyler didn’t know that. And neither did his mistress. Pushing down the storm of emotions inside me, I put on my best performance. “Honey, it doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice choked with fake tears. “I don’t care if you can’t have kids. I love you. We can adopt if we want to.” For a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but it was quickly extinguished. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “I can’t handle the pressure, the pitying looks from your family. Let’s get a divorce. It’s the last act of love I can give you.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with false nobility. “I can’t be so selfish as to take away your chance to be a mother. I love you, Phoebe, but I want you to be happy more.” 2 “No! I won’t do it! Plenty of people in the world can’t have children, and they make it work. Why can’t we?” I cried, clinging to his arm. “We can try Eastern medicine, alternative treatments… there are options!” Tyler immediately shot down the idea. “I’m a man, Phoebe! How am I supposed to hold my head up if people know? My life would be over! If you really love me, you’ll keep this a secret.” I broke down completely. The tears of heartbreak were fake, but the sense of betrayal was agonizingly real. I had been a devoted wife for years, and this is how he repaid me? By faking a medical condition to push me out for another woman? He was going to learn that playing with people’s hearts has consequences. In a last-ditch, staged effort, I turned to his parents. Tyler was their eldest, the golden child. “Mom, Dad, please, talk to him! We can’t just give up. People will talk!” My father-in-law took a long drag from his cigarette and shook his head. “Phoebe, this kind of condition… it’s a lost cause. Dragging it out will only ruin his reputation. You have to understand a man’s pride.” I looked at his younger brother, Caleb. “Caleb, please. You know how good your brother has been to you. Talk to him. We can get through this.” A muscle twitched in Caleb’s jaw. “Phoebe, this divorce is a relief for him. Just let him go. It’s different for a man. The gossip… it’s like being flayed alive.” His wife just looked down at her hands, silent. Their united front was all the confirmation I needed. A wave of triumphant joy washed over me, but I let the tears flow freely. Tyler pulled me into an embrace. “Phoebe, it’s my fault. I’m a broken man; I don’t deserve you. I’ll make sure you’re compensated, of course. You deserve that much.” Gasping between sobs, I finally gave in. “I know you’ve always been a good man. Okay… I respect your decision.” 3 I excused myself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. My hand tightened around the real report tucked inside my purse. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind: “With a sperm survival rate of less than one-tenth of one percent… there’s no hope for a natural pregnancy.” For the past two weeks, my biggest problem had been how to break the news to him gently. I never imagined he’d hand me the solution on a silver platter. His report was a forgery, but his condition was real. For years, his family had assumed I was the reason we were childless. Now that another woman was pregnant, their suspicions were confirmed. Just then, a text came through from my friend. “He’s taken her to three different clinics and even sent a blood sample to a specialty lab in another country. It’s confirmed: it’s a boy!” And there it was. The Chen family, with their old-fashioned obsession with a male heir, had found their excuse to get rid of me. If he was so eager to play the proud papa to another man’s kid, who was I to stop him? Let them bask in the joyful anticipation of their new arrival. 4 I dried my eyes, stormed out of the house, and slammed the door for good measure. The divorce was happening, but not yet. I needed to drag this out. I made a show of calling all his friends, begging them to intervene. I cornered his best friend, Mark, in the street, putting on a spectacular display. “Mark, how can he be so sensitive?” I wailed, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “As long as I don’t mind, what does he have to worry about? Why does he have to divorce me? Please, talk to him! A man needs a family, even without kids!” Mark looked deeply uncomfortable. He obviously knew the real story. “Phoebe, please, keep your voice down. This is… a private matter. If he thinks this is for the best, maybe you should just let him go.” The neighborhood gossip mill was already churning. “What a wonderful woman. Her husband can’t have kids, and she still wants to stand by him.” “Yeah, if the roles were reversed, you can bet he’d be long gone.” He was worried about his reputation, but I wasn’t. I started an online diary. I wrote about my husband’s tragic infertility and his selfless decision to divorce me so I could have the chance to be a mother. I posted screenshots of his family’s cold texts and my friend’s well-meaning warnings. I even included a tearful video of myself. The internet ate it up. Our story was hailed as the ultimate tragic romance, the peak of “Bad End” love. One commenter wrote: “He sacrificed his own happiness for yours, never knowing that all you ever wanted was him.” I read it and cried, my tears of gratitude very real. Of course, I publicly begged everyone to respect our privacy. “This is a very sensitive issue for a man. Please, don’t try to find him or disturb his life.” Everyone thought I was a lovelorn fool. Some even tried to talk sense into me. “While being child-free is a valid choice, having your own child is a beautiful thing. Maybe your ex-husband really is doing what’s best for you.” On the day we were supposed to sign the papers, I hesitated again. “Maybe we should just try one more time. I really don’t want to do this.” Tyler’s patience was wearing thin. “What is your problem? Do you want the whole world to know I’m sterile so they can point and laugh at me?” he snapped. “I told you, I’m never getting married again! I won’t be a burden to anyone!” I knew he was getting antsy. His little intern was pushing to make things official, and he was terrified I’d find out the truth. He thought I couldn’t live without him. He had no idea I was just squeezing the last drops of value out of him. I took his hand, my eyes full of sorrow. “We were husband and wife. Before we say goodbye, let’s make one last beautiful memory together.” I’d seen influencers making “breakup countdown” videos. I always thought it was a sweet idea. Tyler had called it pathetic. But now, consumed by guilt, he couldn’t refuse. “Just… as a formal farewell,” I whispered, the very picture of a heartbroken woman. He looked at me, a flicker of something soft in his eyes, and finally nodded. 5 We drove to his hometown. Tyler had always been close to his grandparents. After his grandfather passed, his grandmother lived alone in the old house. She took my hand the moment we arrived. “When are you two going to give me a great-grandchild?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t follow those modern trends. A child is a continuation of your life, a symbol of your love. It’s what makes a life complete.” I felt a pang of nostalgia for the woman I used to be, the woman who truly believed that love was enough. Now, I just couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when the truth came out. Tyler watched me clean the entire house from top to bottom, a look of genuine appreciation on his face. “Phoebe, thank you.” “It’s nothing,” I said, resisting the urge to slap him. “I know how much your grandmother means to you. It’s just a shame I won’t be able to visit anymore. A divorced woman… life will be hard. But don’t worry, I’ll work hard. I won’t let anyone say your ex-wife is a failure.” “I’ll make sure everyone knows you were a man with the best taste in the world.” That did it. “Phoebe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Besides our shared assets, I have about half a million saved from before we were married. It’s yours.” “I couldn’t possibly. You’ll be all alone; you’ll need it.” I pretended to refuse, but I knew he’d insist. He was a hypocrite who needed to buy a clear conscience. With his six-figure salary and rising career, half a million was a small price to pay for peace of mind. Sure enough, he pulled out his phone and initiated the wire transfer. Moments later, my phone pinged with the notification. What he didn’t know was that his new boss, a staunch traditionalist, had a strict policy against promoting divorced employees. Tears of “gratitude” streamed down my face as I leaned against his shoulder. “Let’s take a picture,” I sobbed. “It might be our last chance.” He smiled and agreed. I posted the screenshot of the bank transfer to my online diary. The praise came flooding in. 6 The divorce would have to wait a little longer. We still had a list of things we’d always promised to do together. We hiked a mountain to see the sunrise. We rowed a boat on a serene lake. He cooked me breakfast. We watched an old classic, Titanic, at a revival theater. The moments were genuinely beautiful, which made my online posts all the more poignant. My followers were heartbroken for us. “Why does fate have to be so cruel to such a perfect couple?” “Please don’t separate! Adopt a child! Your family can still be complete!” I could see it was getting to him. It’s hard to reject a beautiful, kind, successful woman who is willing to stand by you even after learning you’re infertile. He was wavering. But he had no way out. The intern wasn’t going to let him go that easily. That night, after he thought I was asleep, Tyler opened my purse. He saw the report.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394210", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel