The Billionaire Let His Mistress Kick His Pregnant Wife In Court—But He Didn’t Know The Judge Had Been Waiting Twenty-Eight Years For This Moment
The mistress kicked me in the stomach in front of twelve witnesses, two deputies, and my husband’s three-million-dollar legal team.
My billionaire husband did not move.
He only looked at the woman carrying his last name on paper and said, “Don’t make a scene, Emily. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
The courtroom went so quiet I heard my wedding ring hit the marble floor.
It had slipped from my swollen finger after I braced myself against the defense table, one hand wrapped under my belly, the other catching the edge of a stack of divorce papers Marcus Vale had paid somebody very expensive to destroy my life with.
His mistress, Savannah Cross, stood in six-inch nude heels beside him.
She was twenty-six.
I was thirty-four.
She wore white.
I wore the navy maternity dress I had ironed at 5:12 that morning because I still believed, in some corner of my exhausted heart, that walking into court with dignity mattered.
Savannah looked down at my ring like it was a dead insect.
Then she smiled.
“Oops,” she said.
Marcus finally touched her arm, but not to stop her.
To steady her.
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