Claimed by His Nemesis

"Pregnant? Get rid of it. And mail it to me when you're done." The ink on our divorce papers was barely dry when my billionaire exhusband laughed in my face.

He was dead set on the idea that this was just another desperate stunt I pulled to make him stay.

The very next day, a biological cooler stamped with the logo of a toptier private clinic was delivered straight to his executive desk.

Inside, there was nothing but a medical specimen jar floating in preservative fluid, resting right next to a surgical abortion receipt with my name printed clearly across the top.

When he finally called, his breathing shattered into a guttural, agonizing wail over the receiver. I listened to the sound for exactly three seconds.

I hit block, turned on my heel, and walked straight through the international boarding gate.

Years later, the second I led my daughter out of the airport arrivals terminal, Cole lunged out of nowhere and blocked our path. His eyes were bloodshot.

His gaze was deadlocked onto Piper, burning with a sick, obsessive frenzy. "I knew you didn't have it in you!" His voice was ragged. "That's our baby, isn't it?" His hands were shaking as he reached out to grab us.

Before he could even make contact, Alistair shoved Piper and me behind his back with one arm.

With his free hand, he grabbed Cole by the lapels of his custom suit and slammed him against a concrete pillar in the middle of the terminal.

Alistair stared down at him, his eyes dead and devoid of anything but pure violence. "Take one more step toward my wife and daughter, and I swear to God, you'll be spending the rest of your life playing daddy from a wheelchair." Chapter 1 On our first wedding anniversary, Cole's personal assistant sent me a cold, sterile text with the address to an exclusive membersonly club.

Swallowing down the bitter knot of disappointment in my throat, I slipped into the expensive, customtailored red dress he used to love so much and headed to the venue.

But when I arrived at the private suite, I froze outside the slightly ajar door.

Cole's voice drifted out, mingling with the casual chatter of his friends. "Isn't today your anniversary with Blair?" one of them asked. "How do you have the balls to ditch your wife for Courtney's welcomeback party?" Through the crack in the door, I saw Cole lazily swirling the red wine in his crystal glass.

A careless smirk played on his lips. "Why wouldn't I? I even told her to come here.

A wedding anniversary doesn't even come close to being as important as Courtney." The rest of his fratbro circle erupted into obnoxious hoots and whistles. "Damn, look at our boy Cole, keeping the wife on a tight leash!" "Hell, I actually thought you stopped caring about Courtney after you got hitched." Cole shot them a sideways glance, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his wine. "Marrying her was just a moment of impulse.

What makes you think she could ever compare to Courtney?" "Bro, the way you chased her didn't look like an impulse," someone challenged. "Don't tell me you're just talking shit because you've had a few too many." Cole's gaze snapped to the guy in the center, his expression turning icecold. "It was just an act.

How was I supposed to know she'd actually fall for me and throw a tantrum about refusing to marry anyone else?" "Hahaha, true that.

Only Cole is nice enough to just say yes when a chick throws herself at him and proposes." My feet were cemented to the floor.

My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the skin turned white. That night, I didn't push open the door to that suite. I turned around and went back to an empty house.

Inside the quiet living room, my phone sat on the coffee table, a black, lifeless screen mocking me with every passing second of silence. It was time to get a divorce.

Cole didn't come home that night.

As for where he went, I found out the next morning through the trending page on X. [BREAKING: TopTier Socialite Courtney Spotted Spending the Night with Mysterious Tech Billionaire in FiveStar Presidential Suite.

Wedding Bells in the Air?!] I tapped on the hashtag.

Hundreds of words of speculative gossip spilled across the screen, accompanied by a blurry paparazzi shot of a man and a woman locked in a tight embrace.

In the photo, the striking silhouette of the man had his arms wrapped around the slender, beautiful woman with a sickening level of possessiveness.

They ignored the flash of the cameras, holding each other facetoface. Smiling intimately. Smiling without a single care in the world.

I scrolled down to the comment section, swiping past an endless stream of replies praising what a perfect, powerful couple they made. I thought I would feel nothing.

But my chest tightened, a sharp burning sensation clawing up my throat until the harsh glare of the screen dissolved into a watery blur. I sat there numb.

Then, the phone violently vibrated in my palm. The screen lit up, displaying a number I had memorized by heart. Cole.

A pathetic, invisible thread of hope made me swipe the answer button. I just wanted to ask him if the trending news was real.

But before the word could even leave my lips, a soft, sickeningly sweet voice floated through the speaker. "Blair, don't believe the trash those paparazzi wrote.

I got a little too drunk last night, and Cole was just taking care of me at the hotel. We totally didn't sleep in the exact same bed all night.

You're so understanding, I know you won't mind…" Before she could even finish her sentence, Cole's dismissive voice cut in from the background. "Why are you even explaining it to her?

You're doing too much." Courtney giggled, completely acting as if I wasn't even on the line, immediately falling into a playful banter with him. "I'm a girl, I know how girls think!

What if Blair gets jealous? Even though we stayed completely innocent in the same room all night, as your best friend, I just had to explain things for you." "Tsk.

You women are such a headache." "Cole! Who are you calling a headache?

Say that to my face one more time, I dare you." Chapter 2 I stood there with a deadpan expression, listening to them bicker over the phone like a pair of flirtatious teenagers.

A heavy, suffocating weight lodged itself in my throat—impossible to swallow, impossible to spit out. I tried to force it down. I really did. But my stomach convulsed.

I doubled over the sink and dryheaved. My stomach was empty. Nothing came up but a splash of bitter, clear bile.

But thanks to that pathetic gagging sound, the little lovebirds on the other end of the line finally remembered I existed. Cole's playful banter with Courtney abruptly stopped.

His voice bled through the speaker, laced with sudden, urgent panic. "Blair? What's wrong?

Are you sick?" Hearing the sheer hypocrisy in his tone triggered another violent spasm in my gut. I retched again. His voice spiked with frantic anxiety. "Baby, are you sick?

Hold on, stay right there. I'm coming home right now to take you to the ER." I clamped a hand over my mouth.

I wanted to tell him not to bother, but another wave of pure stomach acid surged up my throat. I couldn't stop throwing up.

By the time I finally ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped my mouth clean, the call had disconnected. I had already made up my mind to file for divorce anyway.

There was zero point in dragging this out. I typed out a quick, twoletter text: No.

This time, he replied in seconds. [I'll be home in twenty minutes.] I stared at those glowing words on the screen in dead silence.

How could Cole physically manage to flirt with his mistress one second, and play the frantic, doting husband the next? It made no sense. It made my skin crawl.

I slumped backward, sliding down the cold bathroom tiles until my knees hit my chest. My mind involuntarily dragged me back to the beginning.

Four years ago, I stumbled upon a horrific car crash on my way to work.

Watching the hood of Cole's shattered sports car burst into flames, I stupidly risked my own life, dragging his unconscious body out of the wreckage and getting him to the nearest hospital.

When he woke up, he was so overwhelmed by the fact that I'd saved his life that he kept trying to throw insane amounts of money at me. I rejected every single check.

Pulling him out of that car was just a splitsecond human instinct, not a business transaction. But ironically, my constant rejections only sparked his interest.

He started chasing me. Hard. He flooded my apartment with flowers, chauffeured me to and from work, and ordered obscene amounts of gourmet pastries to bribe my entire office.

Every time I tried to shut down his advances, he'd smoothtalk his way out of it, claiming he just had no other way to repay his savior.

Even when I shot him down, he was endlessly patient, his voice always soft and reassuring.

He was devastatingly handsome, incredibly rich, and seemingly the most emotionally stable guy on the planet. Honestly, what girl in her right mind could say no to a guy like that?

So, predictably, I fell for it. I fell hard. It didn't take long for us to make it official. Once we started dating, Cole kept up that flawless facade of gentle consideration.

It dragged me deeper into the illusion, cementing my blind faith that he loved me just as fiercely as I loved him.

So, after three years together, I took the plunge and proposed to him. He only hesitated for a split second before saying yes.

It wasn't until after the wedding rings were on our fingers that I discovered the ugly truth. He had a childhood sweetheart—the one that got away—named Courtney.

The only reason he was in that nearfatal car crash four years ago was because Courtney had just rejected him.

He had been dragracing down the highway trying to blow off steam from his broken heart.

I only found out about their tragic little history because Courtney, who had rushed back from Europe on the night of our wedding, cornered me and spilled the beans herself.

I remember looking at her with genuine amusement as she practically bragged about how obsessed my brandnew husband used to be with her. Yeah, I actually found it funny.

I found it funny because I didn't believe a single word out of her mouth. After all, Cole had treated me like absolute royalty for three years.

Whenever I caught a fever, he was the one pacing the floor with anxiety. Whenever I felt down, he was always the first to pull me into his arms and make it better.

When I was drowning in career anxiety, he was the one who meticulously mapped out a plan for me, giving me the courage to pursue my dream and actually build a life around it.

Chapter 3 People always say loving someone is like tending to a garden. You water it, you nurture it, and you watch it bloom. For the longest time, I was dead certain Cole loved me.

But a year into our marriage, the cracks started to show. I realized that while he was busy tending to me, he was also relentlessly watering Courtney's lawn. At first, I blamed her.

I thought she was just a stagefive clinger pulling stunts for attention. But eventually, the ugly truth hit me. He just couldn't help himself.

He was addicted to my unconditional adoration, but he was equally obsessed with the phantom nostalgia of his high school crush.

I loved him, so I swallowed my pride and put up with it. I kept telling myself he would outgrow it. But abandoning me on our oneyear anniversary to throw her a welcomeback bash?

Trashing me to his fratbro buddies like I was some desperate joke? Spending the entire night alone with her in a hotel suite?

If I still loved a man like that, I was genuinely the most pathetic woman alive. Cole actually beat his twentyminute ETA.

When he burst through the door, I was sitting dead still on the couch.

He didn't even take his shoes off, just stormed straight into the bedroom, grabbed my ID, and locked his fingers around my wrist, dragging me toward the door. "Let's go.

We're going to the ER right now." I yanked my arm back, but his grip was iron. "I'm fine.

I don't need a doctor," I said, my voice eerily flat. "Actually, there's something we need to talk about. I want a di—" The word divorce died in my throat.

My eyes locked onto his collar. Right there, stamped against the crisp white cotton of his shirt, was a smeared, cherryred lipstick mark.

Logically, I knew a man and a woman alone in a hotel room all night weren't exactly playing Scrabble.

But actually seeing that glaring, smeared stain in high definition triggered a reflex. My stomach flipped. I bent over and actually threw up again.

Seeing that sent Cole into fullblown panic mode. He practically carried me to his car and broke every speed limit dragging me to the hospital.

By the time I was sitting under the harsh fluorescent lights of the consultation room, the chance to drop the divorce bomb had evaporated.

Instead, my brain was shortcircuiting under a barrage of rapidfire questions from the ER doctor. "Married or single?" "Are you currently trying to conceive?" "When was the first day of your last menstrual cycle?" I answered mechanically.

The doctor didn't even look up as she scribbled on a prescription pad. "You're likely pregnant. I'm ordering a blood panel.

Go down the hall and get your Estradiol, Progesterone, and hCG levels checked." I walked out of the clinic in an absolute daze.

When we first got married, I used to daydream about having a baby. But my medical history was a mess—ovarian cysts, severe fertility issues.

Even though Cole and I never used a single ounce of protection during our marriage, a second pink line never showed up. It was a cruel, cosmic joke.

The exact moment I made up my mind to leave him, my body decided it was the perfect time to get pregnant.

I gripped the crumpled lab slip in my hand, my mind a chaotic mess of static. I had already mentally packed my bags. I was done with him.

If I was actually pregnant, what the hell was I supposed to do? Was I really going to terminate it?

I slowly walked back to the waiting room, chewing on the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out how to break the news to Cole. But I didn't have to overthink it.

The blue plastic chair where I left him was completely empty. My phone buzzed. A text from him lit up the screen. [Baby, Courtney says there are paparazzi swarming her lobby.

She's trapped and hasn't even had breakfast. Wait for me at the hospital. I'm gonna run her some food and be right back. Love you.] My eyes zeroed in on those two words. Love you.

A violent tremor ran through the hand clutching my phone. Perfect. I didn't need to agonize over my decision anymore. He had just made it for me.

With a completely blank face, I typed a single letter: [K.] The afternoon sun was blinding outside the glass windows, but the AC blasting through the hospital vents felt like absolute ice.

I walked toward the lab department entirely alone, a freezing numbness seeping deep into my bones. The second I walked out of those hospital doors, I took an Uber straight home.

I ordered an obscene amount of takeout and hopped on a call with a ruthless divorce attorney a friend had recommended.

By the time I finished the last bite of my food, her paralegal had already drafted the preliminary settlement. Everything was perfectly in place.

Now, I just had to wait for him to walk through that door. Chapter 4 I waited. The clock on the wall dragged all the way to eleven at night. Click.

The front door finally swung open. Cole stepped into the brightly lit living room. His eyes landed on me sitting dead center on the couch.

A wide, easy smile spread across his face as he walked over, reaching out to pull me into a hug. I twisted my body, dodging his touch.

Cole, assuming I was just throwing a petty tantrum, dropped to one knee.

He grabbed my wrist, forcing me to hold his hand, his voice dripping with a practiced, gentle apology. "Baby, I didn't mean to ditch you.

There was a massive swarm of reporters downstairs at Courtney's place. She was completely trapped." "We've been friends for years.

When she called begging for help, I couldn't just leave her hanging." I violently yanked my hand out of his grip. A cold, mocking laugh escaped my lips. "Ah, yes.

The kind of longtime friends who spend the entire night completely alone together in a hotel room?" The muscles in his jaw locked up for a fraction of a second.

But almost immediately, a smug smirk returned to his face. "So my wife is just jealous. I swear there's nothing going on between us. We didn't even sleep in the same bed this time.

When we shared the room last night, I took the couch. I was miles away from her." There was a time when he had shared a bed with her before.

Back then, there were other people in the room, and his fratbro friends all jumped in to cover for him. I had thrown a fit, and he swore up and down it would never happen again.

So, not the same bed, but the exact same private suite is perfectly fine? My gaze drifted down to his collar.

That glaring red lipstick mark—a blatant territorial stamp—was still right there. "Cole, your lies would be a lot more convincing if you actually bothered to change your shirt." I pointed dead at the red stain on his collar. "Save your breath.

We're getting a divorce." I grabbed the thick manila envelope resting on the armrest and shoved it hard against his chest. "This is the divorce settlement my lawyer drafted.

I have zero interest in your company shares, but I'm getting every single cent of the joint assets I'm owed.

Sign it right now, and then get the hell out of my house." Cole frowned, staring down at the legal documents in his hands. "Baby, you've got to be kidding me.

You've let this go so many times before.

Why are you suddenly…" I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to draw blood. "So you actually admit to cheating on me with Courtney 'so many times'?" "Blair, I'm not signing this!

I didn't sleep with Courtney last night!" I stood up, looking down at him with absolute disgust. "Don't sign it, then. We'll legally separate.

The second the clock runs out on the waiting period, I'm taking you to court.

But during that time, I can't guarantee your precious Courtney won't be branded as a homewrecker all over the internet." I turned on my heel, walked straight into the guest bedroom, and slammed the door shut.

Click. The deadbolt slid into place. Outside, Cole started pounding his fists against the heavy wood. "Blair, open the door!

Let's talk about this!" "There is absolutely nothing going on with Courtney! We are completely innocent!" "Baby, stop making a scene! We just got a little too drunk last night!

She probably brushed against me by accident and left the lipstick! We didn't even go all the way!" I fell backward onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

For the first time in years, the suffocating weight on my chest was gone.

Lulled by the pathetic, frantic sound of Cole slamming his fists against the door, I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I pulled up my contacts and texted a few highprofile paparazzi.

I leaked one specific piece of information: The mysterious billionaire toptier socialite Courtney spent the night with was a married man.

At first, I didn't think the news would gain traction. Cole was a prominent, wealthy tech executive.

He had more than enough capital to kill a trashy tabloid story before it even saw the light of day. But shockingly, the leak caught fire.

It rocketed to the top of the trending charts like someone was deliberately fanning the flames.

Chapter 5 When Cole called, losing his mind, I was casually eating takeout and scrolling through a sea of internet comments ripping the cheating scumbag and his mistress to shreds. "Blair, I completely misjudged you." Cole's voice blasted through the speaker. "This is between you and me.

Why the hell did you drag Courtney into this? She is a renowned pianist.

You're going to destroy her career." In the background, the rhythmic, pathetic sound of Courtney's sobbing drifted over the line.

I left the phone on speaker, my expression deadpan. "Misjudged what exactly? What did I do to get you so worked up?" "You actually have the nerve to ask?

You're the one who leaked the story that Courtney is a homewrecker!" I took a slow sip of my soup. "Did I force you two into that hotel suite? Did I hand you the room key?

Or did I hold a gun to your head and force you to marry me?" A long beat of silence stretched over the line.

Finally, Cole's voice cracked, sounding desperately helpless. "Baby, you have to believe me. Courtney and I really didn't do anything." I scoffed. "Right.

You just almost went all the way." More dead silence from his end. Suddenly, the whole conversation felt completely exhausting and pointless.

I took a deep breath, cutting straight to the chase. "Cole, you have two choices.

Either you show up at my lawyer's office tomorrow morning at ten sharp to sign the divorce papers, or I forward every piece of hard evidence I have to every major media outlet in the country.

If your precious Courtney wants to salvage whatever is left of her pathetic socialite reputation, you better sign the damn papers." I hung up before he could even process it