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Betrayed by My Husband's Affair, Forgiven but Not Forgotten Novel Cover

Betrayed by My Husband's Affair, Forgiven but Not Forgotten

I smoothed my hands over the pale blue dress that hugged my four-month baby bump, a small smile playing on my lips as I stepped into the gleaming elevator of Sterling Tower. The silk-lined picnic basket hung from my arm, containing all of Alexander's favorites—the truffle risotto he loved, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and a bottle of sparkling cider since I couldn't share our usual anniversary champagne. Five years. Five years of what I believed was perfect love. "Going up, Mrs. Sterling?" The security guard smiled warmly at me. "Yes, Tom. Surprising my husband." I patted my rounded belly. "Well, surprising him again, I suppose." Tom chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Those little ones are gonna be the best surprise of all." My heart swelled as I thought of our twins.
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Chapter 1

I smoothed my hands over the pale blue dress that hugged my four-month baby bump, a small smile playing on my lips as I stepped into the gleaming elevator of Sterling Tower. The silk-lined picnic basket hung from my arm, containing all of Alexander's favorites—the truffle risotto he loved, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and a bottle of sparkling cider since I couldn't share our usual anniversary champagne.

Five years. Five years of what I believed was perfect love.

"Going up, Mrs. Sterling?" The security guard smiled warmly at me.

"Yes, Tom. Surprising my husband." I patted my rounded belly. "Well, surprising him again, I suppose."

Tom chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Those little ones are gonna be the best surprise of all."

My heart swelled as I thought of our twins. Two perfect miracles growing inside me, created from our love. Alexander had been so attentive since we'd learned I was pregnant, calling three times a day to check on me, insisting I cut back on my volunteer work at the children's literacy foundation.

The elevator climbed smoothly to the executive floor, and I pulled out my phone, typing quickly: *Surprise—I love you*.

I watched the message send with a flutter of anticipation. Alexander always kept his phone close; he'd probably be walking toward the elevator by the time I reached his office.

But the corridor remained empty as I made my way toward the corner suite. His assistant's desk was vacant—probably at lunch. Perfect timing.

I approached the heavy mahogany door, excitement building in my chest. I'd planned this moment for weeks—our anniversary picnic overlooking Manhattan from his office, just us and the afternoon sun streaming through those floor-to-ceiling windows. A moment to reconnect before our family of two became four.

I pushed the door open without knocking, a greeting already forming on my lips.

The words died in my throat.

Alexander stood by the windows, but he wasn't alone. Victoria Hayes—his college girlfriend who'd recently returned to Manhattan—was pressed against him, her slender arms wrapped around his neck. Their foreheads touched intimately as Alexander's hands cradled her face with a tenderness I recognized all too well.

"I never stopped loving you," he whispered, his voice carrying across the silent office. "I've tried, Victoria. God knows I've tried."

The world tilted beneath my feet. My husband—my Alexander—holding another woman with such naked longing. The basket slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, hitting the marble floor with a dull thud.

They broke apart at the sound, turning toward me in unison. Alexander's face drained of color.

"Claire," he breathed, the name falling from his lips like a confession.

Victoria didn't step back. Instead, her crimson lips curved into something not quite a smile as her hand remained possessively on Alexander's chest—right over his heart.

A sharp pain lanced through my abdomen, so sudden and fierce that I gasped. Something warm trickled down my inner thigh, and I looked down in confusion to see a dark stain spreading across my blue dress.

"Alexander," I whispered, my voice strange and distant to my own ears. My babies. My precious babies. "Something's wrong."

The pain intensified, white-hot and all-consuming. The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Alexander's face, his expression shifting from shock to horror as I crumpled to the floor.

I heard shouting, felt hands lifting me. Security badges flashed above me. Tom's familiar voice barking orders. "Call an ambulance! Mrs. Sterling is pregnant!"

The ceiling lights blurred into streaks as they rushed me through the corridor. Where was Alexander? Why wasn't he holding my hand?

"BP dropping! She's hemorrhaging!" Someone in white pressed something against my abdomen.

A woman's face appeared above me in the emergency room—calm, focused eyes beneath a surgical cap. "I'm Dr. Reed. We're going to take care of you, Claire."

"My babies," I managed to whisper as consciousness began to slip away again. "Please save my babies."

Dr. Reed's expression flickered with something I couldn't identify as she squeezed my hand. "We're doing everything we can."

As darkness closed in, one thought crystallized with perfect, terrible clarity: Alexander wasn't here. In the moment I needed him most, my husband wasn't by my side.

Because he was with her.

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