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Betrayed Wife: Pregnant With The Ice Hockey Prince Novel Cover

Betrayed Wife: Pregnant With The Ice Hockey Prince

After three years and every dollar she had, her final IVF attempt fails—or so she believes. The same day, she discovers her husband Jase's affair with her own sister, exposed through a flaunted pregnancy photo and the custom watch she bought him. Her mother urges her to step aside gracefully, and at the celebration, Jase shields his mistress while treating his wife like an outcast. When she demands a divorce, he refuses, needing her as a cover for his hockey career. Homeless and betrayed, she drinks away her pain at a downtown bar, unaware that the fertility clinic made a catastrophic error. Her IVF didn't fail. She's pregnant—and the child belongs to a ruthless billionaire who's already hunting the scheming woman carrying his heir.
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Chapter 2

Alyse POV:

The taxi crawled through rush-hour traffic. The city's neon lights flashed outside, mocking my gray, broken world. I clutched my phone, Jase's text message seared into my mind like a brand.

A sharp wave of nausea and dizziness hit me. It wasn't just the emotional turmoil; it felt physical. I cracked the window, and the cold air helped clear my head slightly.

I remembered Dr. Evans mentioning that hormonal fluctuations after a failed IVF cycle could cause physical discomfort. I chalked it up to that and thought nothing more of it.

The taxi pulled up to "The Onyx Club." It was a members-only establishment for sports elites, a place Jase frequented. I'd never been. He always said WAGs—wives and girlfriends—weren't welcome.

I paid the fare, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. The doorman eyed me with a scrutinizing gaze.

"I'm here for Jase Hobbs," I said, my voice steady. "I'm his wife." The man's expression turned odd, but he let me in.

The club was dimly lit, the music a low throb. The air smelled of cigars and expensive cologne. Men in sharp suits talked loudly while their glamorous companions laughed beside them.

I saw them immediately, in a booth at the far end. Jase and Sienna.

She was curled against him like a kitten, and he was kissing her hair. They looked so perfect, so happy, like a living version of that Instagram photo.

Blood rushed to my head, replacing the numbness with a hot, searing rage.

I walked toward them, the click of my heels against the marble floor sharp and clear above the music.

Jase saw me first. The smile on his face froze, then twisted into an expression of annoyance, as if I were an inconvenient interruption.

Sienna looked up. When she saw me, there was no panic in her eyes, only a triumphant smirk. She even snuggled deeper into Jase's arms.

I stopped in front of them. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just looked at Jase calmly. "Is the text real?"

Jase stood up, towering over me. "Alyse, don't make a scene here. We'll talk at home."

A cold laugh escaped my lips. "Home? Which home? The one I decorated for us, or the new one you're building for her?"

Sienna's sweet voice dripped with false sincerity. "Sister, don't blame Jase. I pursued him. We're truly in love."

My gaze shifted to her, to the face that looked so much like my mother's. "Truly in love? Your love is cheap then, built on someone else's pain."

Jase's brow furrowed, his tone hardening. "Alyse, that's enough! Sienna is pregnant. Don't upset her!"

His words were a poisoned dagger, striking me right in the heart. I had just lost my chance at a child, and he was here, protecting another woman and hers.

People were starting to whisper, their eyes darting between the three of us. I was the star of this humiliating drama.

I wouldn't give them a show. I reached into my purse, pulled out the key to our apartment, and placed it on the table with a sharp clink.

"Jase Hobbs, I agree to the divorce," I said, each word precise. "Not because of your 'true love,' but because you disgust me."

I turned and walked away without a second glance. Behind me, I heard Jase's stunned silence and Sienna's soft, victorious laugh.

Outside the club, my body swayed. I nearly collapsed. The nausea returned, stronger this time.

I leaned against the wall as my phone rang. A strange number.

Annoyed, I declined the call, desperate to escape this suffocating place.

I hailed another cab. This time, I went back to our real home. The one with the nursery I had built, the one that would now forever be silent.

Back in the empty apartment, I walked straight into the blue and white room.

Cloud-patterned wallpaper. A crib I had assembled myself. Tiny socks I had knitted hanging over the rail.

I walked over and picked up the little socks. The tears finally came, a flood I could no longer hold back. I had prepared everything for this child who would never arrive, while his father celebrated another.

My phone rang again. The same number. I irritably declined it once more, then shut the phone off completely.

I didn't know that I had just hung up on Dr. Evans, trying to tell me the impossible.

The IVF procedure was a success. I was pregnant.

Curled up on the nursery floor, surrounded by the dream world I had created, I felt utterly defeated by my own life.

In the darkness, a deep chill settled into my bones, accompanied by a dizzy spell I couldn't shake.

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