My Fiancé Brought His Mistress And Child Back

The bar’s dim lighting cast a hazy neon glow over Ariyah Griffin’s face, but it couldn’t hide the sharp glint in her eyes. Her gaze was a sheathed dagger, poised to strike at any second. Her father had raised her to be decisive and ruthless, hoping she could go toe-to-toe with men in this world. Little did he know she’d turn those very traits on her marriage.

“Milo Kelly won’t leave this marriage with a single cent—not a stock option, not a car key, nothing,” she stated, her voice calm but absolute. “The house, the car, the company shares, all the connections I helped him build—everything I’ve poured my heart into over the years—I’m taking it all back. Cleanly. Completely.”

She looked down at the amber liquid in her glass, swirling it slowly.

Joan nodded, relief easing the tension in her chest. She knew exactly how much Ariyah had poured into shaping Milo into the man he was. Giving up wasn’t an option—not when the time and effort could swallow a person whole. Ariyah had never been one to get swept away by her emotions, and Joan was grateful that, at least, hadn’t changed.

Joan had been by Ariyah’s side since graduation, more sister than assistant. She adored the Griffin family, but she’d never been able to stomach Milo. From their first meeting, something about Milo’s supposedly earnest eyes struck her as calculating. But back then, Ariyah had wanted to please her father, so she’d rushed in without a second thought.

Now Milo, thinking he was untouchable, had the nerve to bring another woman—and a child—into the picture as leverage. Joan hadn’t seen that coming. He’d waited until Mr. Griffin was away, assuming Ariyah couldn’t make any real trouble on her own.

Ariyah scrolled through her phone, stopping when a headline caught her eye: Solstice Capital had just closed another major international acquisition. The story shot straight to the top of the business news. But most people were far more interested in the ridiculously handsome photo attached to it.

It was an old photo of Solstice Capital’s founder, Pablo Williams. He was mid-handshake with some foreign dignitary, his sharp profile and perfect posture making him look like he’d walked straight out of a CEO drama.

“Wait, aren’t CEOs supposed to be bald and out of shape? How is Pablo this good-looking?”

“Look how old that photo is. It’s probably ancient—he’s got to have let himself go by now…”

Ariyah let out a soft laugh. If she hadn’t met him in person today, she might have agreed with the comments, assuming the photo was doing all the work. But thinking back to their encounter earlier that day—and those clear eyes she’d looked up into—she felt something stir. A wave of unease hit her, so she knocked back another drink, letting the warmth settle in her chest.

But why had Pablo shown up here today? Had he heard about Milo’s antics and come sniffing around for talent? In hindsight, giving Milo that kind of platform had been a mistake—it had put him on every investment bank’s radar. The thought sat heavy in her chest, and she turned off her phone.

When her phone lit up again, Milo’s name flashed on the screen.

“Has this man no shame? Why the hell is he calling?” Joan burst out the second she saw the name.

Ariyah only smiled and set the phone aside. But Milo was relentless. One missed call turned into another, then another. Eventually, a text popped up: “Heard from a friend you’re at Starry Night Bar. Wait for me.”

Ariyah frowned and handed the phone to Joan.

“That guy is just disgusting. Let’s get out of here! Why meet him? To listen to his lame excuses about how hard cheating is?” Joan fumed, already trying to tug Ariyah out of her seat.

“Maybe we should wait. Could be a good show,” Ariyah countered, shaking her head and sliding back into her seat.

A few drinks later, Milo appeared at the door. He hesitated, clearly surprised to see Ariyah sitting out in the open—he’d expected her to be avoiding him.

Ariyah held his gaze, steady and defiant, until he started to squirm.

“Ariyah, I want to talk,” he said, finding his nerve as he walked over.

“I’ve thought it over. Bringing Alyssa and the child back was thoughtless of me,” he admitted, though the apology was more about logistics than morals.

Ariyah stared at him with ice in her eyes. He was apologizing for bringing the woman back—not for betraying her in the first place. It was obvious he wasn’t really sorry; he was just buying time to make a play for the company shares. The man had no heart.

“So, have you decided? Are she and the child leaving, or are you all leaving together?” she asked, her tone lazy.

Milo’s fists clenched. “Ariyah, Alyssa is alone here. If I send her away, she’ll be stranded with the child. Just give me some time to sort this out, okay?”

His voice was smooth, but inside he was cursing Ariyah’s cold heart. The kid was only two—where were they supposed to go?

“Oh, so is it love or guilt?” Ariyah pressed.

Milo gritted his teeth. “Let’s go home and talk about this in private.”

He reached out, his cold fingers brushing her arm. Ariyah jerked back like she’d been burned, leaving him clutching nothing but her sleeve. The man before her felt like a snake now; any touch was repulsive.

Joan was already on her feet, ready to shove Milo out, when his phone rang.

After taking the call, Milo’s expression turned serious. He released her sleeve with obvious reluctance. “Ariyah, Alyssa’s fallen ill and can’t look after the child. I have to go.”

Alyssa had timed it perfectly, knowing he’d be with Ariyah. Her timing was surgical.

Ariyah almost laughed. Instead, she let a mocking tenderness settle over her face as she looked at Milo. “Stay with me, will you? I’m a little drunk. Keep me company?”

The conflict on Milo’s face only made Ariyah more amused. She had to pinch her leg to keep from laughing out loud. Who did Milo think he was, standing there paralyzed with indecision?

Milo hesitated, then shot her an apologetic look. “Ariyah, wait for me at home. We’ll talk then. I have to go see the child. She’s just a little girl…”

Ariyah tuned him out. She already knew exactly what he’d say next—and none of it meant anything.

Milo rushed to the hospital, where Alyssa was waiting in the ER downtown.

“Alyssa, what happened? Why didn’t you go to the one closer to home?” Milo asked, pressing a worried hand to her feverish forehead. There was a hospital just a short walk from home, and it was less crowded, too.

Alyssa, her eyes half-closed, murmured, “I’m new here, so I got lost. Sorry, Milo—am I bothering you?”

But she knew exactly how close the other hospital was. She’d chosen the one downtown on purpose, hoping to draw a crowd. Without the extra attention, the fever she’d brought on by standing in a cold shower for half an hour would have gone completely unnoticed.