When My Fiancé Begged After Marrying His Pregnant Mistress

The doctor signed my discharge papers at noon.

My head still throbbed with a dull ache, but my thoughts were clear. I took a cab straight to my condo. My father had bought the place for me when I graduated college. The deed had only one name on it: Ellie Campbell.

I unlocked the front door and pushed it open.

A wave of sweet, cheap lavender perfume hit my nose. It didn't smell like my home. In the entryway, two pairs of unfamiliar shoes sat by the wall. A pair of worn loafers and pink fuzzy slippers.

I walked into the living room and stopped.

Wrenley was lying across my white linen sofa. She wore an oversized sweater. Her hand rested heavily on her rounded belly. When she saw me, she didn't jump up or apologize. She just blinked, her big eyes wide and watery, looking like a fragile wounded animal.

A door clicked open down the hall.

Leon’s mother, Mrs. Spencer, stepped out of my master bedroom. She was wearing my plush cream bathrobe and holding a mug of tea.

"Oh, you're back," Mrs. Spencer said. She didn't smile. She looked annoyed, like I was an unwanted houseguest. "You shouldn't make so much noise. Wrenley needs bed rest. The doctor said high stress could harm my grandchild."

I looked around my apartment.

A bottle of prenatal vitamins sat on my kitchen island. Cheap drug-store cosmetics covered my entryway table. Someone had left a dirty mug on my glass coffee table.

They had moved in. They thought this was theirs.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" I asked. My voice was low and steady.

Mrs. Spencer scoffed. She set her mug down on the counter with a sharp click. "What do you mean, *your* apartment? Leon lives here. And Wrenley has nowhere else to go right now. Family sticks together, Ellie. Don't be so cold."

On the couch, Wrenley let out a tiny, pitiful sniffle. She stroked her stomach. "I can leave if I'm a burden... I don't want to cause trouble for Leon..."

"Hush, dear," Mrs. Spencer snapped, glaring at me. "You aren't going anywhere. Leon promised me."

I didn't yell. I didn't cry. Seven years of my life were gone from my head, but my common sense was fully intact. These people were leeches.

I pulled my phone from my bag and dialed.

Mrs. Spencer frowned. "Who are you calling? If that’s Leon, he’s in a meeting. Don't bother him."

The line connected. "Chase Private Client," a smooth voice answered.

"Hello, this is Ellie Campbell," I said clearly. I leaned against the counter, staring right at Mrs. Spencer. "Account number ending in four-eight-two. I need to make some immediate changes."

Mrs. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly.

"I want to freeze all authorized user cards under the name Leon Spencer," I said into the phone. "Cancel the black card. Close the secondary joint checking account immediately. And stop the auto-pay on the Porsche lease."

"Ellie!" Mrs. Spencer gasped, her face flushing red. "What are you doing?!"

"Yes, right now," I told the banker. "Cut off all access. Thank you."

I hung up.

Wrenley sat up fast, her fake weakness forgotten for a second. "Ellie, wait! My prenatal appointments are charged to that card! Leon said—"

"Leon doesn't have a dime of his own," I said.

Mrs. Spencer marched toward me, her finger pointing at my face. "You selfish little brat! I have groceries to buy! My salon appointment is this afternoon! You can't just cut us off! That’s Leon’s money too!"

"It never was," I said.

I tapped my screen again and dialed a local 24-hour locksmith.

"Hi, I need an emergency lock change for a condo on the Upper East Side," I said. "Send someone right away. Heavy-duty deadbolts. Yes, within the hour."

I ended the call and slipped my phone into my pocket.

The front door suddenly swung open with a violent slam.

Leon burst inside. His tie was crooked. His jacket was unbuttoned. His face was bright red, sweat glistening on his forehead.

He held his phone in one hand. It was vibrating non-stop.

"Leon!" his mother shrieked, rushing toward him. "She went crazy! She cancelled all the cards! My card declined at the market ten minutes ago! She called a locksmith to throw us out!"

Wrenley began to sob loudly from the sofa, burying her face in a pillow. "Leon, my doctor... the bills..."

Leon didn't look at his mother. He didn't look at Wrenley.

He stared straight at me.

His phone buzzed again—probably another decline alert from his bank. He looked at the screen, then tossed the phone onto the kitchen counter. It made a loud, plastic clatter.

The boyish, romantic smile was gone. The worried, tear-streaked face from the hospital room vanished completely.

In two long strides, Leon crossed the floor.

He grabbed my right wrist. His fingers clamped down hard, like a steel cuff.

He shoved me backward until my spine hit the entryway wall.

"Leon!" his mother barked, but he ignored her.

He leaned in close. His breath smelled like stale coffee. His eyes were totally black, narrow and venomous. There was no charm left. No sweet words.

"You think you're being clever, Ellie?" he whispered. His voice dropped into a cold, raspy register I had never heard before. It was rough and ugly. "You think you can just shut me off?"

His fingers dug deeper into my skin, bruising the bone.

"You're making a very big mistake," he snarled.