My Husband's Other Life

No More Mercy

"We'll talk at home," I said icily.

The moment we stepped inside, Zachary dropped to his knees with a heavy thud. His voice shook. "Ellie, please… let me explain…"

I cut him off, sounding so calm it startled even me, "Explain what? Explain that the child isn't yours?"

He grabbed my hand, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I messed up, Ellie… I'm sorry… It was Yara—she set me up! I was drunk… I didn't even know what happened! When she told me she was pregnant, I told her to give it up, but she threatened to kill herself.

"She promised she'd never bother us if she got to keep the baby…"

"And after the child was born?" I asked.

"I was forced!" Zachary suddenly raised his voice. "My mom pushed me to accept her! She said my family line couldn't end with me! And you refused to have a baby, no matter what—what was I supposed to do?!"

The words hit me like a blade, sliding straight into my chest.

I stared at him, watching him shove every ounce of responsibility onto anyone but himself.

I said slowly, "You told me you hated kids. You said that staying child-free was your dream life… Was that all a lie? You just wanted to keep me complacent while you left your legacy somewhere else?"

Zachary froze, realizing he had accidentally revealed too much. He softened his voice again. "Ellie, that's not it… I didn't have a choice… Please believe me. You're the only one I love. Always have, always will."

I didn't want to hear another word out of his lying trap.

The slam of the door silenced whatever he might have shouted after me.

I sat in my car and started the engine. It wasn't until I'd been driving for a long time that I noticed my cheeks were wet.

I found the number I had saved but never dialed. "Mr. Lambert, it's me—Estelle Shepherd. I want Zachary to end up with nothing."

A calm, professional voice came through the phone. "Understood, Ms. Shepherd."

…

The next day, I went to work as usual. The moment I sat at my desk, a sudden wave of shouting and crying erupted outside the office area.

As a sense of dread rose climbed up my spine, someone barged in—Yara. She was dragging her boy behind her, her eyes puffy from all the crying. She looked nothing like the woman from the day before.

When she spotted me, she rushed toward my desk. Her tears were already rolling down her cheeks before she even spoke. "Estelle! You owe me an explanation!"

Every pair of eyes in the office snapped toward us.

"I'm pregnant with Zachary's second child. Are you trying to drive my children and me into a dead end?"

Her son, frightened by her hysteria, burst into loud sobs.

My coworkers gasped and whispered to one another, shock spreading through the room.

Then, Yara dropped to her knees right in front of me, just as Zachary had done yesterday, and grabbed my sleeve with both hands. "Please, Estelle… for the sake of the baby I'm carrying… spare me!"

Her cries echoed through the entire floor. Those who knew nothing of the truth began whispering even louder.

"I didn't think Estelle's this kind of woman…"

"So heartless. That woman's even begging on her knees now."

"She always seemed so respectable… Who knew…"

My hands shook with rage as the blood in my body turned to ice. "Yara, let go of me and get out of my company! Your performance will go nowhere here!"

I pulled out my phone and called Zachary on speaker. "Yara is making a scene at my company. Get over here right now and deal with her."

…

He rushed in about 10 minutes later, panting. I could see sweat beading across his forehead. The moment Yara saw him, her cries grew even more miserable. "Zachary… Honey, it hurts… the baby… our baby…"

Zachary reacted instantly, dashing toward her and comforting her in a soothing tone. "Don't get worked up. Don't scare yourself. Be careful—think of our child…"

The gentle and protective way he fussed over her was something I hadn't seen once in the decade of marriage.

My coworkers' expressions shifted from confusion to absolute disgust. Condemnation washed over me in wave after wave. I was nailed to the pillar of shame—scorned, judged, treated like filth.

My flinty gaze locked onto Zachary. "Zachary, keep in mind that I will remember every second of this circus you two put on today. You're the one pushing everything past the point of no return. So, don't you dare blame me for what comes next."

With that, I stood tall and walked out of the office without looking back.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my mother-in-law. 'Now that you know everything, let's all sit down and talk tomorrow at 3 p.m. at The Marrow.'

I tightened my grip on the phone, the screen's glow reflecting in my eyes. I, Estelle Shepherd, was no one's doormat.