Auctioned While Pregnant: 99 Nights Of My Husband’s Betrayal Chapter 08
What happened next, I learned in pieces. From Mr. Pearce.
From the documents that arrived in manila envelopes over the following weeks.
From the things Mrs. Sterling managed to tell me before I cut the line.
Julian didn’t think about me for a month.
It was his assistant who reminded him—not out of concern, but logistics.
“Ms. Vance should be about six months along now. How is she doing?”
Julian looked at him.
The assistant realized his mistake instantly. Slapped his own mouth.
Of course. Only Claire belonged at Julian’s side.
Lena Vance was a fraud. A woman who’d stolen Claire’s place and tricked Julian into a marriage built on lies.
Julian leaned back in his chair. Sighed like a man being asked about an overdue bill.
“I had my guys rough her up a bit. Small cut on her chest, mirror what she did to me. That’s enough punishment.”
He waved his hand.
“Send someone to check on her. When she delivers, give her the best medical team. I’m not a monster.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Julian Sterling!”
The door slammed open. Two voices. Two people he hadn’t expected.
Julian stood. “Dad? Mom? You didn’t call ahead—”
His mother’s palm cracked across his face before he finished the sentence. Her hand trembled in the air afterward, vibrating with rage.
“You animal. Go to find Lena. Right now. You must bring her back.”
Julian touched his cheek. Something cold settled behind his eyes. Then it twisted into a smirk.
“She went crying to you? Of course she did.”
“You did that to her and you expected her to just swallow it?”
His father stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides.
“What did she ever do to deserve this?”
“Dad. Mom.” Julian exhaled. That same bored, patient sigh.
“Don’t believe everything she tells you. She exaggerates. She manipulates. She pretends to be someone she’s not to get what she wants.”
He reached for his mother’s arm. “Come on. Let me take you home. You’ve had a long flight—”
“Don’t touch me!”
She slapped his hand away.
“Lena lost the baby a month ago. Take us to her. Now. We need to see her.”
“Lost the baby?”
Julian’s brow creased. A flicker of something—not guilt, not yet. Confusion.
His mother threw a file at him. The manila envelope hit his chest and fell open. Papers scattered across his desk.
Hospital records. A medical certificate. The word printed in bold across the top of the page: MISCARRIAGE.
Julian’s jaw tightened.
He picked up the certificate. Read it. Then crumpled it in his fist and tossed it toward the wastebasket.
“I told them to rough her up. A small cut. Nothing that would cause a miscarriage.”
He leaned against his desk, arms crossed.
“She probably found out the baby was some stranger’s and got rid of it herself. Then she blamed me so she could play victim for you two. Classic Lena.”
He almost laughed.
“Everything she does is to compete with Claire. Because she knows whose place she stole.”
His mother hit him again. Harder this time. The sound was wet.
“Who told you that baby wasn’t yours?”
Her voice shook. Her entire body shook.
A single document sailed through the air and struck him in the face.
Paternity test. Lab-certified. Court-admissible.
The dead child was his.
“What?”
Julian’s breath stopped.
The paper confirmed it. Black ink on white.
Father: Julian Sterling. Match: 99.97%.
His fingers clenched around the report until the paper crackled and tore at the edges.
“That’s impossible. I never touched her. Not once.”
But even as the words left his mouth, something surfaced. A memory he’d buried under a year of certainty.
A masquerade ball. Years ago.
A girl in a red dress. Not elegant—electric. The way she moved through the crowd, the way the silk caught the light when she spun.
He’d seen her from across the room and something in his chest had locked into place.
They’d danced. In the garden afterward, he’d chased her through the hedgerows, laughing, breathless.