I Turned His Double Joy to Dust

When I send the family car to the body shop for maintenance, an employee discovers a cat pregnancy guidebook wedged in the slot between the front passenger seat and the door.

The cat's name is Rose. The signature shown on the furparent's slot belongs to my husband.

"Christian Johannson, furdad of Rose."

I'm stunned, to say the least. We don't keep cats at home.

Coincidentally, Christian calls me on the phone. I ask him, "There's a guidebook in the car. When did you keep a cat?"

He chuckles lightly in response.

"There was a pregnant stray lingering around the company. I found it pitiful, so I brought it to the vet. It had already given birth last month. Now, it and its babies are the apple of the whole company's eye."

With a smile, I praise Christian for being a kind-hearted soul. After ending the phone call, however, I begin reading the guidebook meticulously.

Rose is apparently a short-haired cat. She's now two years old.

As for the cats living in Christian's company, I've seen them in his colleague's social media posts before. All of them are tabby cats.

After closing the guidebook, I take down the vet clinic's name. Then, I drive over to that location.

I arrived at the best—and most expensive—veterinary clinic in the city.

I handed over the cat pregnancy guidebook and said, "My younger brother told me to come and confirm Rose's due date."

The staff pulled up Rose's file. The two names on the owner's column were Christian Johannson and Vicky Scott.

Vicky had low education, a timid personality, and came from a poor background. Last year, I made an exception and hired her as an intern in the logistics department out of sympathy.

Now, it seemed that this intern had long since become a permanent employee.

My throat tightened. Clutching the cat pregnancy guidebook, I headed straight to the company. I hadn't been here in a long time, ever since I stayed home to care for our twin daughters.

But Christian wasn't in his office.

His assistant, Simon Grande, followed behind me and said that Christian was in a meeting, yet he kept sneaking glances at the office next door.

That office belonged to me. It had been left unused ever since I became a full-time housewife.

My eyelid twitched in suspicion. I shoved Simon aside and kicked the door open.

"You're back, Christian!" the woman on the bed called out, eyes crinkling as she smiled. When she saw me, she froze before quickly diving under the covers.

I stood there, stunned.

The once austere vice president's office was now furnished with a bed and a vanity. The walls had been repainted, lace curtains hung by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and pink furniture filled the room.

It had now turned into a cozy woman's bedroom.

Christian had gone behind my back and kept a room for Vicky right next to his office.

"Ms. Ziegler… Mr. Johannson… is still in a meeting. Maybe you should…" Behind me, Simon dared not lift his head.

My gaze landed on Vicky, who was trembling beneath the covers. My eyes widened when I saw the bulge beneath the blanket. It was her stomach.

"How far along?" I asked.

Vicky curled up even tighter.

I walked over and yanked the blanket away. Staring right at her, I asked, "I'm asking you a question. How far along are you?"

"I… I—" Tears slid down Vicky's cheeks. She broke down sobbing within seconds. "I'm sorry, Ms. Ziegler—"

"You're scaring her, Juliet!" A figure rushed past me and shoved me aside angrily.

By the time I came back to my senses, Christian was already holding Vicky, gently patting her back. "Don't be afraid, I'm here. I'll protect you."

The contrast was unbearable.

Earlier this morning, Christian had nuzzled my cheek before leaving the house, telling me how hard I'd worked caring for our daughters. He'd even promised to take us all to Dreamyland in a few days.

Now, he was holding another woman in his hands, carefully avoiding her swollen belly as he gently coaxed and promised to protect her.

A crushing sense of despair flooded me. My vision swam, and I tried to lean back for support when I knocked into a picture frame.

Inside, there were nine photos arranged in a grid. Every one of them was a maternity portrait against a bright red backdrop.

Some were solo shots of Vicky, and some were photos of her holding Rose.

At the very center was a photo of Christian getting down on one knee before her. Both of his hands were cradling her pregnant belly as he looked up to her with a tender gaze.

That was clearly love.

I coldly looked at Christian. "What's going on, Christian? You got another woman pregnant, and now you're openly letting her stay in my office?"

Frightened, Vicky went pale as she clutched her stomach. "It hurts, Christian…"

"What's wrong, Vicky? Hurry, call an ambulance!" Panicked, Christian immediately carried her while shouting at Simon.

It was as if I didn't exist at all. His eyes never left Vicky, no matter how hysterical I became.

Unable to take it anymore, I grabbed Christian's arm with all my strength. "You're not going anywhere until you give me an explanation."