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His Faked Infertility, My Sweet Revenge Novel Cover

His Faked Infertility, My Sweet Revenge

I made my husband, Damian, the youngest Chief of Surgery in the country. I built his career from scratch, defying my own family to marry him. Then, he asked me to give our au pair a six-figure salary and a company car. He called me a cold-hearted bitch when I refused, claiming she was a poor single mother of five. But I saw her wearing my missing diamond bracelet and carrying a Chanel bag worth more than my car. He flaunted their affair at a professional conference, calling me a "worthless capitalist princess" while she played the victim. For years, I'd spent a fortune trying to cure his infertility. It was our secret pain. Now, he was using it to justify his affair with a "hyper-fertile" woman he claimed could give him the sons I couldn't. As he stood on stage for his keynote speech, ready to accept an award, I walked past him to the podium. I had my own presentation to share with the live-streamed global audience-a slideshow of their eight-year affair, complete with hotel receipts and bank transfers.
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Chapter 3

Ainsley POV:

Casey shrieked as the vase flew towards them.

Damian' s reaction was instantaneous. He spun around, shielding Casey with his own body. The heavy crystal shattered against his back with a sickening thud. He grunted in pain but his first instinct, even as he stumbled, was to steady her, his hands protectively on her arms.

He turned to face me, his eyes red-rimmed and blazing with a righteous fury. "What is wrong with you?" he screamed. "Why don't you just kill me? But why do you have to drag an innocent person into this?"

Innocent. The word was so absurd it was almost funny.

"She's a kind, simple woman, Ainsley! She works as a nanny to support her family! She has a college degree, for God's sake. She could be doing something respectable, but she chose this to be close to her children!" He was shouting now, his voice echoing in the cavernous hall.

"And what are you?" he sneered, his face contorted with years of repressed anger and insecurity. "A worthless capitalist princess! You've never worked a real day in your life! You're not fit to even touch a single hair on her head!"

Every word was a perfectly aimed dart, striking at the heart of every sacrifice I had ever made for him. I had defied my family, who saw him as nothing more than a gold-digging charity case. I had shouldered the immense pressure of running a multi-billion dollar empire, working myself to the bone to double the family's profits in five years, just to prove to them that my choice in a husband hadn't made me weak.

And he called me worthless. He stood there with another woman and called me a man-eater.

A primal rage took over. I stormed past him into his study and grabbed the anime-themed pillows from the couch. With a guttural cry, I began tearing them apart with my bare hands, feathers and foam exploding into the air like toxic snowflakes.

Then I started grabbing anything I could reach-books, picture frames, awards-and hurling them in their direction.

Damian easily pulled Casey out of the way, his movements agile. He held her tightly, as if protecting a precious treasure from a madwoman.

"I've had enough of this!" he roared over the sound of shattering glass. "Enough of living in your shadow, of being treated like an employee in my own home! I'm the youngest Chief of Surgery in the country! I have skills! I don't need to rot away in your brother's hospital!"

He was delusional. He didn't seem to understand that his entire career was a product of my family's influence.

"Dozens of top hospitals are trying to recruit me!" he boasted, his voice cracking with a mix of desperation and bravado. "If you push me away one more time, we're getting a divorce! And you'll be the only one who regrets it!"

I gripped the back of a chair, my knuckles white, forcing myself to stand tall. I met his furious gaze with an icy calm that seemed to unnerve him.

"Fine by me," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Casey, ever the actress, began to tremble in his arms. "Damian, don't," she sniffled. "She's your wife. A woman's life is so hard after a divorce. You should be patient with her."

Damian let out a cold, cruel laugh. "Not all women deserve to be cherished, Casey."

A profound, bone-deep weariness washed over me. The fight drained out of me, replaced by an empty, hollow ache. I had nothing left to say.

I let go of the chair and turned, walking silently up the stairs.

He stared after me, his bravado faltering. For a moment, I saw a flash of panic in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected me to call his bluff. He opened his mouth to call out to me.

But then, Casey's phone rang, a cheerful, tinkling ringtone that cut through the tense silence.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice suddenly filled with maternal panic. "What? A fever? How high? Okay, okay, I'm coming right now!"

Damian's face went pale. "What's wrong? Is it the kids?"

"Yes," she sobbed, clutching his arm. "My youngest has a high fever. I have to go to the hospital."

"I'll take you," he said without a moment's hesitation.

I heard the front door slam shut. The sound echoed through the empty house, a final, definitive punctuation mark on the end of my marriage.

I sank to the floor, my legs giving out from under me. The cold marble seeped through my clothes, but I couldn't feel it. All I could feel was the gaping hole in my chest.

He had children. It was the only explanation that made sense. Those five boys Casey was so proud of… were they his?

My hand trembled as I pulled out my phone and dialed my brother's number.

"Graham," I said, my voice tight and strained. "I need you to do something for me."

"Ainsley? What's wrong? You sound terrible."

"Investigate Damian," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "And our au pair, Casey Valdez. I want to know everything."

"Did he cheat on you?" Graham' s voice turned hard, the protective older brother instantly on high alert.

"I think," I choked out, the possibility so monstrous I could barely speak it. "I think he might have a secret family."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "What? That's impossible, Ains. The doctors all said... he can't have kids. Can he?"

The question hung in the air, a testament to the absurdity of it all. I felt the last of my strength drain away.

"She calls herself a 'baby magnet', Graham," I whispered, my throat closing up. "She says she's 'hyper-fertile'."

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