Billionaire's Pregnant Ex-wife

“I want a divorce,” my husband, Grey Bradford, announced in a freezing-cold tone.

Deep down, I had always known he would one day ask for a divorce, especially after his first love came back to the country after spending five years in Paris.

However, I hadn’t expected him to discuss it tonight, in the middle of our romantic dinner date.

I lifted my head to look him straight in the eye, a bitter smile gracing my lips as the word tumbled from my trembling lips. “Why?”

“I... I've always wanted a son, Lily. God knows I’ve waited, but you failed. I can't keep waiting forever,” he told me outright.

I felt a lump form in my throat as unwelcome memories flooded back. Our two-year-old son had died two years ago in a tragic car accident. I was there when it happened, witnessed everything, and to this day, I still blame myself for losing him. I never stopped wishing every night that I could trade my life for his.

Grey and I tried to conceive again, but despite years of effort, I had failed to get pregnant. After losing our only child, perhaps God deemed us unworthy to have children since we had failed to protect the only one we'd had.

“We are both miserable in this marriage,” Grey continued. “We have to let go and start separate lives. It's what's best for us.”

I couldn't see a flicker of emotion in his eyes—no regret, no pain, nothing—making me wonder if he had ever truly cared for or loved me. This man I thought I had known for so long was a complete stranger now. The Grey I knew would never abandon me so cruelly.

He wanted a divorce not because I couldn't conceive. That was merely a convenient excuse to be with the woman he had loved since he was eighteen: Natalia Romani. The woman he had told me not to worry about was now the reason our marriage was falling apart.

But who was I to judge him? Natalia, the stunning Italian model, was his ex-fiancée. She chose her career over marriage and left him to fulfill her dreams in Paris. If she hadn't left, Grey would never have married me.

Even after four years, I knew he still hadn’t forgotten her completely. Perhaps he was still in love with her. After all, I was just a temporary replacement, a tool to spite his father, who had married his mistress after his mother left. Until now, his father hadn't forgiven him for marrying someone like me—a lowly waitress.

My gaze shifted back to his face. It was foolish, but I swallowed my pride. We had made a vow at the altar to be there for each other for better or worse. I wasn't letting him go without a fight, just as I had promised myself the day we got married.

“I’m doing my best to conceive a child, Grey. Let’s wait for a year, and if I’m still unable to bear a son by then, I will agree to a divorce.”

Grey shook his head. For the first time, I realized how exhausted he looked. “I’m tired of waiting, Lily. I want a child, and if you can't give me what I want, then I have no reason to stay in this marriage.” His sharp words drilled straight through my heart.

“I… I can give you everything you want, but not that.” I reached for his hand. But the moment my fingers brushed against his, he quickly pulled away as though my touch burned him.

“My mind's made up. There’s nothing you can do to change it.” There was no mistaking the finality in his voice.

“But—”

Grey cut me off sharply. His brows scrunched into a frown as he got up from his seat. I thought his gaze couldn't grow any colder, but it seemed to drop even further, draining all warmth from the room. “I’ve wasted four years of my life with you. It’s time for me to move on and let go. Like it or not, I’m filing for divorce.”

My jaw dropped.

I gave up everything for him—even my only chance to pursue my dream career abroad—because I believed our love was worth every sacrifice. Yet in the end, all I received in return was heartbreak.

If only Dylan, our son, hadn’t died in that accident, this would never have happened. Grey would never have thought of divorce.

I wanted to scream, to throw something, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that was tearing me apart inside. But I remained still, my hands clasped tightly in my lap until my knuckles turned white.

I gathered my composure and looked him in the eyes. A pair of beautiful gray eyes stared back at me. They used to be filled with warmth whenever they met mine, but now they held nothing but chilling civility.

It finally came to me with startling clarity. I had been desperately clinging to the remnants of what we once had, trying to piece together a broken mirror that would never reflect the same image again.

"You're right," I whispered, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded.

Grey's expression flickered with surprise. Perhaps he had expected more resistance, more tears, more begging. But I was done diminishing myself for a man who had already checked out of our marriage long ago.

He opened his mouth, but I raised my hand, silencing him. I gracefully rose from my chair with a hardened expression. "You know what's ironic, Grey? You're exactly like your father—leaving your wife for someone you claim to have always loved. The only difference is that your father had the courage to admit it."

I watched as his face contorted with rage. If there was one thing Grey hated most, it was being compared to his father.

"Don't you dare compare me to him," he growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"An apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I let out a hollow laugh. "You're angry because I'm right. I guess we had died long before our son did… I was just too blind to see it. Or maybe I didn't want to see it. But now?" I stepped back, creating a physical distance that matched the emotional chasm between us. "Now I see everything clearly."

"Lily—"

"I’ve done my best to be the perfect wife to you and made countless sacrifices to keep us together, but ultimately, I failed. Perhaps you’re right; we need space. If divorce is what you want, then I’m giving it to you."