His 'Sweetheart' Claimed My Man—So I Stole His Legacy Instead
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My husband, Charles Smith, paced anxiously outside the door.
I lay exhausted on the delivery bed, gasping between contractions as the nurse cheered me on.
"Come on, Ms. Hayes! Your husband really loves you—he hasn't left that doorway once."
I sneered inwardly.
He didn't love me—he loved the child in my womb, the one he'd fathered with his childhood sweetheart.
I lay exhausted on the delivery bed, gasping between contractions as the nurse cheered me on.
"Come on, Ms. Hayes! Your husband really loves you—he hasn't left that doorway once."
I sneered inwardly.
He didn't love me—he loved the child in my womb, the one he'd fathered with his childhood sweetheart.
