My Wife Got Pregnant Ten Times by Another Man

I have spent nine years with Serena, and during that time, she has suffered ten miscarriages. Every time, I cared for her, afraid for both her wellbeing and the baby’s. But every time, for no clear reason, we lost the child. Seeing her pale and weakened from blood loss, my heart broke each time, and I felt a deep sense of guilt.

Then one evening, when she went out to dinner with friends, I decided to pick her up early, worried she might drink too much. I never expected to find her in an embrace, kissing her fitness coach.

"Serena, your husband’s here! Stop kissing him!" One of her friends urged her to pull away. But when she saw me, drunk and sneering, she said, "Perfect timing, come join us, husband."

She then added, "You should thank my coach. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have known the pain of almost being a father ten times."

Her friends were confused. "Serena, you know your husband is grieving the loss of your child too. Don’t joke about something so serious." But Serena laughed it off. "What? Those children were mine and Isaiah’s. But I love my husband so much, I sacrificed my body for his image. Why else would I get rid of those children?"

The words cut through me like a sharp knife. I stayed silent and left without a word.

It became clear that what I thought was love was simply submission.

——

As I walked away, a friend of hers spoke, "Serena, you should comfort your husband. He listens to you more than anyone." Her fitness coach, Isaiah Cheshire, added, "I’m sure he’s angry because you're carrying my child again. Maybe I should apologize to him."

But Serena continued, "You’re too softhearted and kind. He has no family left. Where else can he go but with me?" She threatened, "Anthony, if you walk out that door, don’t think you’ll ever come back."

Despite my heartache, I took a deep breath, numb but hurt by her betrayal. I turned around and walked back. She scoffed, "See? He doesn’t dare leave. Isaiah worked so hard to make me pregnant, and now he has to worry about your feelings. You’re too much."

I looked at her coldly and said, "Let’s get a divorce."

She grinned, "Are you in such a rush to divorce me because your mistress can’t wait?"

I couldn't help but find it absurd. She had been unfaithful to me, and yet, she accused me of being restless.

"Fine, before we divorce, settle what you owe me," she said, walking over to me and grabbing my hand. "I put this ring on your finger," she tugged the ring off, leaving a bloody scratch on my finger.

"I chose this necklace for you," she pulled the necklace off, leaving a wound on my neck.

"And this dress," she tore at my clothes, regardless of my resistance.

She laughed, "And this underwear I picked for you! Why don’t you take it off too?"

The crowd snickered, and she mocked, "Don’t pretend you want a divorce while still wearing the underwear I chose for you. You’re so hypocritical."

The whispers and lewd laughter echoed around me. "Aren’t you angry? You’re too cowardly to even notice I was having an affair with you every day. Maybe I should have kept it a secret so you could finally experience what it means to be a father."

Her friends laughed, their voices echoing in the cold air. I reached for the coat to shield my body, but Serena was quicker, draping it over Isaiah with a tenderness that stung.

Isaiah, glancing at me, said, "I heard you gave him a lot of your blood recently, and he ended up in the hospital. What if he gets cold without a coat?"

"What does it have to do with me?" I replied, my voice tight. "I only feel sorry for Isaiah."

Isaiah placed a hand on her belly, and her laugh rang out, hollow and mocking.

Serena walked past me, Isaiah in tow. As they passed, she leaned in close and whispered a cold threat, "Don’t forget the marriage contract you signed in the Netherlands. Unless we both agree, you’ll never leave me."

The bitter wind whipped against my bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill gnawing at my heart. She slammed the car door shut, sending a puff of gray smoke into the air.

Her friends, noticing the blueblack bruises on my lips from the cold, shouted at me. "Anthony, come on. You’ve tolerated Serena’s infidelities ten times already. What’s a little cold wind to you?"

"Serena’s already made it public. Now, the whole country knows your nickname—Greenhaired Turtle."

I closed my eyes, blocking them out.

An hour earlier, I had been lying in a hospital bed, worried about Serena after her last miscarriage. She’d suffered severe bleeding, and I’d been forced to give her a blood transfusion, nearly losing my life in the process.

But now, my heart had been shattered in a way I never imagined. I had rushed out of the hospital, despite the nurse’s pleas, after hearing from Serena's friends, "Anthony, Serena’s been drinking all day, and no one can stop her."

I thought she was drowning her sorrows over the loss of our child. Instead, she was celebrating the pregnancy of the man she truly loved. The heavy bleeding she claimed was just a ploy to appease Isaiah.

One of her friends, unable to watch any longer, offered me a coat. "Sorry, Anthony," she said softly, her voice thick with regret. "We couldn’t do anything. Serena was willing to sacrifice everything to be with you. How has it come to this?"

Her eyes were filled with disappointment and sympathy, and I felt a wave of numbness wash over me. Of all the people who had pursued me, Serena had always been the one I wanted to stay farthest from. She was bold, persistent, and impulsive. Her love, intense and unwavering, was a doubleedged sword. She had loved me completely, but one day, that love would be the weapon that destroyed me.

And that day had arrived.

It had been a car accident, smoke and flames enveloping the wreckage. She had rushed to the scene, desperate, her hands shaking as she tried to pull me out.

My legs were trapped under the mangled car, and the vehicle could explode at any moment. "You can’t save me," I told her, pushing her away. "Go now, or you’ll die with me."

But she refused to leave. "If I die, I’ll let my sisters bury us together. I’ll tell everyone I committed suicide with you."

I looked at her tearstreaked face, her makeup long gone, her hair a mess, surrounded by black smoke. A pang of softness struck my heart, and I shook my head. "Maybe sincerity is always changing," I muttered to myself.

I adjusted my clothes and began walking home, the night thick with winter’s bite. Faint headlights appeared ahead, illuminating the road as though they were guiding me, worried for me. My steps grew slower, more erratic, and soon my vision blurred. The cold darkness consumed me, and I collapsed into the snow.

When I woke up, the doctor was the first to speak.

"You lost so much blood and didn’t take care of yourself. You were found freezing in the snow. Do you realize you were on the brink of death when you were brought here?"

I closed my eyes, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

"Sorry..."

"Sorry? Why are you apologizing to us?" The doctor and nurses exchanged concerned looks. "You should be apologizing to yourself. You’ve pushed your body too far. If you don't take better care of yourself, you could lose your kidneys. It could even be fatal next time."

A sharp thought struck me. "Who brought me to the hospital?"

"Your wife. She cried for a long time when she dropped you off."

I froze, biting my lip to hold back the wave of emotions.

The door to my room opened, and the doctor added, "She's here now. Be more careful in the future. Don't take your health for granted."

I turned, expecting to see Serena, but my gaze locked onto someone I hadn’t seen in ten years: my stepsister, Gwen.

I felt a pang of embarrassment. "Gwen, it's been so long. What brought you back to Los Angeles?"

She wiped her red, swollen eyes and sighed. "I came for a multinational meeting. I didn’t expect to see you on the road to the winery."

I realized then that the car I had seen when I collapsed that night was hers.

She reached out, her hand warm as she gently placed it over mine. "Anthony, if you're tired, come back to me. Auntie’s gone, so you don't need to stay with a woman who doesn’t love you, just to avoid me."

I whispered, "I chose Serena because I love her."

Gwen sighed and placed a plane ticket on my bedside table. "Anthony, this ticket never expires. Whenever you're ready, just take it to the airport, and a private plane will bring you to me."

"You still remember my number, right? Call me anytime, and I’ll be there for you."

When she left, I gripped the ticket tightly for a moment before setting it down.

I opened my phone and bought the next available flight. Then, I called the place where Serena and I had signed our marriage contract.

"If you request a divorce unilaterally, we’ll strip you of all your assets, transfer everything to the woman, and you’ll face a oneyear sentence. Think carefully."

I spoke quietly but firmly, "If it means I can get a divorce, I’m willing to do anything."

"Your divorce will be finalized in a week."

As soon as I checked my phone, I was bombarded with notifications—endless bills for hotels, nightclubs, and Smurfs that had been charged to my account.

Then, I saw a screenshot from one of my friends, showing Isaiah’s Instagram. From the night I collapsed in the snow until now, there had been over a dozen posts.

Serena had taken Isaiah on a vacation to an island.

In one photo, their little hands were overlapped, and the reflection in the window showed their blurred figures. Another showed Isaiah holding Serena’s hand as they cut a cake to announce the gender of their baby.

A comment from someone who knew us appeared: "Serena’s not even divorced yet, and here she is flaunting her relationship with the socalled ‘mistress.’"

Serena’s reply was cold: "Only the unloved are mistresses."

My heart twisted in agony, and a hollow smile crept across my face. Despair was the only thing left.

I checked out of the hospital, and while they were on vacation, I prepared to pack my things.

When I opened the door to my house, I was hit with the stifling air, and the floor was covered in Smurfs.

I trudged upstairs with a pale face, only to find that my master bedroom and studio had been completely transformed into a baby’s room. The walls were adorned with large maternity photos of Serena lying in Isaiah’s arms, her belly exposed. Their sweet smiles—those that had once been mine too—blurred my vision, filling me with a sickening sense of betrayal.

My belongings had been carelessly tossed into the garbage dump in the backyard, including our wedding photo. The one she had once placed so carefully on our bedside table, now lying discarded in a pile of dirt. The photo, my life, was now reduced to nothing.

I glanced at my scratchedup face, the marks and bruises, a cruel reminder of everything I had endured. Footprints from Serena's high heels marred the floor where our shared memories once stood.

I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the ache in my chest.

Forget it. There was nothing left to pack.

I grabbed my passport and some important documents, preparing to leave the place that had once been my home.

Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open, and there they were—Serena and Isaiah, both smiling as if they hadn’t just destroyed everything I held dear.

But when their eyes landed on me, their joy faltered.

Serena’s face twisted into an expression of hidden satisfaction, almost mocking. "Oh, aren’t you proud of yourself? I told you not to come back, and yet here you are. Did you see my honeymoon with Isaiah and feel jealous? Regretful?"

Her voice dripped with spite.

"It’s too late," she continued, her tone icy. "Even if you beg and cry, I won’t forgive you."

Isaiah, trying to force a smile, added, "Serena, this is your wedding room, after all. How can I come here? If your Anthony sees this, he might get angry again."

Serena shot me a sharp glance, her voice cutting like ice. "I’ve made myself clear. Even if I marry him, what does it matter? You’re the third party—the one who’s unloved. You’re not worthy of me having his child. Isn’t that right, Anthony?"

I was exhausted, my spirit crushed. I handed her the divorce agreement, my voice barely a whisper. "Sign this, and you can have everything you want—both in law and in your heart. You can be Isaiah’s wife."

Without a word, she let go of Isaiah’s hand and walked over to snatch the divorce papers from me. In an instant, she ripped them to shreds, the pieces falling like confetti, landing across my face.

I closed my eyes and listened to the venom in her voice as she gritted her teeth. "You want a divorce? You’re dreaming!"

"You’ve wasted years of my life, and now you think you can just walk away? No, Anthony. You’ll pay for this."

I let out a hollow laugh, my voice trembling. "As long as you sign the divorce, I’ll give you everything—every penny. I’ll leave with nothing."

Isaiah froze, his breath catching as he struggled to contain his excitement.

Serena grabbed my wrist, fury and disbelief flashing across her face.

"I don’t want your dirty money!" she spat. "Where do you think you're going? Gwen’s back, and you can’t stand being in this house anymore, can you?"

"What does Gwen have to do with this?" I couldn’t keep the frustration from spilling out. "Do I really have to sit here and watch you two parading around together?"

I glared at her, my words cutting. "Do you have some kind of sick need to make this public? Is it not enough that I’m already here, watching you two flaunt your happiness?"

Her breath hitched, but then a flash of realization crossed her face. She smiled knowingly.

"Are you jealous?" she asked, her voice laced with mock sweetness.

She let go of my wrist and walked over to Isaiah. "You know, every time I went out on a date with Isaiah, you always drove me there, remember?"

The memory struck me like a punch to the gut. I remembered how, after her miscarriage, I’d taken extra care to make sure she wasn’t overexerting herself, worrying about her health. I’d been naïve enough to believe I was protecting her, but it turned out I had been facilitating their affair.

"You knew all my needs," she continued, her voice a sickening whisper. "You knew when to pass me the Smurfs, when to hand me the wet wipes..."

I clenched my fists, the pain in my palms a reminder of how much I had suffered. "Don’t go too far," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

She sneered, her words dripping with venom. "I’m not the one who sleeps with one woman one minute and marries another the next."

My hands trembled as I listened to her unfounded accusations and the venomous rumors she spewed. The weight of her words cut through me like a blade, and it took every ounce of strength to quell the searing pain in my chest. Numbly, I pushed her away and walked out, hoping to escape the suffocating atmosphere she had created.

As I passed by Isaiah, his leg shot out, blocking my path. I didn’t have time to react, and before I could brace myself, I tumbled down the stairs. The sickening sound of bones snapping was accompanied by a searing pain that seemed to consume me entirely.

I blacked out, only the heartwrenching scream of Serena echoing in my ears.

When I came to, the first thing I saw was Serena’s haggard face, drained of its previous beauty. Her eyes were swollen and bruised, the mask of perfection she once wore now shattered. For a brief moment, I saw something in her eyes—was it pity?

"You're awake," she said softly, her voice cold. "The doctor said your internal injuries are severe. Your kidneys... they've been removed. You won’t ever have children."

I stared at her, too numb to feel anything but an overwhelming fatigue. She hesitated before continuing, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "The medical records show you were rushed here yesterday. You didn’t just leave, did you? What were you trying to do?"

I reached for my phone, intent on calling the police, but she grabbed my hand to stop me.

"I’m calling the police," I said in a flat, cold tone. "Isaiah pushed me down the stairs. He should be held accountable."

"I've already punished him," Serena replied, her lips pressed tightly together. "Can you please stop making this harder?"

"Punished him?" My voice was strained. "How?"

She faltered, avoiding my gaze. "I told him... not to get into my bed tonight."

The chill that ran through me almost made me laugh, but it came out more as a bitter, hollow sound.

She frowned at me, visibly frustrated by my lack of reaction. "Can you stop being so sarcastic? You’re useless now. The doctor said you’ll have a hard time ever having children. Why don’t you just look forward to Isaiah giving me one? How do you plan to punish him, huh?"

I didn’t say anything, and her tone shifted, softening in an almost awkward way. "It’s my fault this time. I know you wanted a child. I couldn’t give you one, but when you’re better, I’ll ask Isaiah to let you be the godfather. I’ll make it right."

I remained silent, my mind racing with thoughts of what had been lost, of everything she had stolen. Her patience wore thin. "What’s with this silence? What are you so upset about?" she demanded, her voice rising in anger.

"You think I don’t know?" she continued, her eyes blazing with fury. "You married me because Gwen wanted you. She climbed into your bed, and you were afraid the truth would come out—afraid it would ruin your mother’s chance at marriage. That’s why she picked me as the scapegoat, right?"

She took a breath, gathering her anger. "You made a fool of me, Anthony. You ruined everything we had. My wedding, my marriage… You wanted me to stay quiet, didn’t you? I only had a trainer. Every time I got pregnant, I had to abort it to save your image!"

I felt my chest tighten as she went on, fury and bitterness lacing her every word. "And behind my back, you were sending those texts to Gwen, betraying me, betraying everything we built! If Isaiah hadn’t told me, I would have been played for a fool!"

"I didn’t!"

The words barely escaped me before her gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She suddenly reached between the sheets and pulled out a plane ticket. My heart sank as I saw the private jet ticket—ANTHNYAIR’s private jet—the one Gwen had named after me.

Serena’s eyes filled with rage, her hand gripping my hair as she slapped me hard across the face.

"Don’t you dare lie! This boarding pass—this ticket—was from Gwen! She wanted you to leave me, to run off with her! You still think I’m stupid enough to believe you didn’t have an affair?"

Her words cut deeper than the slap. It felt like everything had fallen apart at once, and I was powerless to stop it.

"I won’t let you go," she hissed, her grip tightening. "If you think you can leave me for her, think again. You belong to me, Anthony. Even if you die, you’re mine. I won’t let you be happy with anyone else."

She shoved me violently, and I fell off the bed, the IV bottle crashing to the ground. Glass shattered, and blood seeped from the wound beneath me. I winced in pain, my vision blurry.

"Serena, are you really this insecure?" I whispered through the pain, struggling to keep my voice steady. "You think you’re not worthy of love, don’t you?"

She stood over me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes were wild, a mixture of anger, hurt, and something darker—resentment.

"You..."

Before I could finish speaking, the door swung open, and the servant hurried in.

"Miss, Mr. Isaiah... he's vomited blood. He's in a bad state. You need to come quickly."

Serena’s face shifted instantly, her concern sharpening into something else. She rushed past me without a second glance. "If it weren’t for you, Isaiah wouldn’t have felt so guilty. He wouldn’t have collapsed like this. Come with me, now! You need to comfort him."

She grabbed my arm, dragging me through the hallway to the VIP ward, where I found Isaiah, his eyes bloodshot and his face twisted in guilt. He was on his knees, as if ready to beg for mercy.

"Serena, I swear, I never meant to hurt Anthony. I was just trying to dodge him—he was about to hit me, and I didn’t expect him to fall down the stairs. He’s saying I pushed him, but I didn’t."

My heart twisted as I locked eyes with him, and in that moment, I saw his satisfaction hidden behind the act. He feigned weakness, his voice shaking. "If Anthony still holds this against me, then I’ll kneel. I’ll apologize, I’ll do whatever it takes."

I met his gaze, my blood boiling, but I said nothing. Serena rushed forward, regret painted all over her face as she wrapped her arms around him. "It’s not your fault," she murmured, her voice filled with fake compassion.

Then, with surprising force, she grabbed me, dragging me to kneel before him. "This is all his fault," she spat, shoving my head down.

She grabbed Isaiah’s hand and slapped it across my face, the sting biting through my skin. The old wedding ring on his finger scraped against my cheek, leaving a raw mark.

"It's because of him that you're like this, Isaiah," she hissed. "Hit him back."

Isaiah feigned innocence, drawing his hand back. "Isn’t this a bit much?" he asked, pretending to hesitate. "But if you slap him, one slap will cost you a Maserati. If you keep hitting him until he bleeds, I’ll get you a villa."

"Really?" Serena’s eyes lit up.

"Really," Isaiah smirked, raising his hand to strike me.

I recoiled instinctively, but I wasn’t quick enough. His hand barely missed my face, and in the process, he almost threw out his back.

Serena’s expression darkened, her patience thinning. She turned to the bodyguard by the door and nodded, signaling him to move. Before I could react, a sharp pain exploded in my leg as it was kicked out from under me. I screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground.

"Now he can't dodge," Serena muttered, her voice cold. "Hit him. Do it."

The world around me blurred, my ears ringing with the sound of her orders. I was dizzy with pain, my vision swimming as I lay on the cold floor. Isaiah’s greedy smirk was the last thing I saw before my vision faded.

When I finally hit the ground, Serena pulled Isaiah's hand over and exhaled in fake sympathy. "Does your hand hurt, my dear?" she cooed. "I’ll blow on it for you."

He looked at me, his voice dripping with mockery. "What about Anthony?"

Serena's gaze turned to me, her eyes narrowing. "He doesn’t deserve it," she sneered. Then, with sudden determination, she walked toward me. "You want to leave me? Fine. I’ll give you a chance."

I wiped the sweat from my brow, heart pounding. "What do you want from me?"

Her laugh was low and unsettling. "Mr. Crisp, the famous man from Orlando, must be worth a lot of money, right? If you were put up for auction, you’d fetch quite a price, wouldn’t you?"

My blood ran cold. "You’re insane!"

She didn’t answer, instead gesturing for someone to bring a contract and tossing it in front of me. "Sign it," she ordered. "Sign the agreement to be an auction item."

I shook my head, refusing, despite the tightness in my chest. "I won’t sign it."

Serena’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "So you won’t? Then let’s see what happens."

With a wave of her hand, someone stumbled into the room, kneeling before me.

My eyes went wide with shock.

It was Ashlyn. The same Ashlyn who had given me her coat that night at the winery. The same Ashlyn who had been Serena’s best friend for years. The woman who had stood beside Serena at our wedding.

But now, she was unrecognizable. Covered in blood, her clothes tattered, she knelt before me, her head lowered in submission. She began to kowtow, begging for mercy.

"Are you out of your mind?" I gasped, staring at Serena. "She’s your best friend! How can you do this to her?"

Serena’s eyes glinted with malice, her expression cold. "What? Are you feeling sorry for her?" she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Mr. Crisp from Orlando is truly something else—first, he seduces his stepsister, and now my best friend? She stood up for my husband, so I punished her."

Her words shattered me. "I can’t live without my parents," she sobbed, "I don’t want to be bought by those perverts. Please, Mr. Crisp, please help me."

The relentless sound of her forehead hitting the floor twisted something inside me. With shaking hands, I reached for the pen and, with a grim sense of inevitability, signed my name on the contract with the word "voluntary."

Serena’s smug satisfaction was palpable as she patted my head. "When you get on stage, make sure you work hard," she said, her voice sweet as poison. "Who knows? Maybe some blind rich woman will take a liking to you and support you."

I could barely hold back the tremor in my voice. "Serena, you will be punished for this."

She laughed, dark and cruel. "Punished? Only those who betray their own sincerity deserve punishment. Let’s wait and see who truly gets punished."

A man wearing a mask approached me, and before I could react, he injected something into my side.

The world around me went black.

When I regained consciousness, I was locked inside a glass display case, exposed and naked in the center of Serena’s VIP auction room. Her and Isaiah’s silhouettes were entangled on the sofa across from me, their shadows cast dark and oppressive.

As if sensing I had woken up, Isaiah casually threw a pair of soiled underwear in my face.

I removed it from my skin with numb, trembling hands.

"Serena," a voice called out from outside the room, filled with mockery. "I heard you’re auctioning off your husband. They say it’s going to be exciting."

"Lucky old women are already eyeing him," another voice chimed in. "They’re ready to light sky lanterns to snatch him away from you."

Serena sighed, stretching lazily in her chair, her voice dripping with arrogance. "Tell them not to worry. I’ll let him out every now and then for the others to have their fun."

Her words cut through the air, sharp and unrelenting. "He’s not just obedient like a dog—he’s more useful than a toy. They’ll be ecstatic when they get a taste of him."

Her heel slammed into the glass of the case, making me jump. "I’ll give you one last chance," she said, her tone icy. "Call your mistress and tell her you’re my dog for life. If you do, I might consider buying you for myself when I light the sky lantern for Isaiah."

I closed my eyes, my lips sealed, too broken to speak.

Serena growled in frustration, straddling Isaiah with a possessive twist. "I wonder how long you’ll stay stubborn," she sneered.

The auction started, and every item Isaiah showed interest in was quickly snatched up by Serena. He sat surrounded by piles of luxury items, unable to hide his glee, while her mood darkened with every passing bid.

Her gaze flicked to me, sharp and hungry.

The last item was announced: "The item provided by Orlando Jiang is called 'Love.'"

"I’ll bid five million," came the first bid.

"Ten million!"

"Fifty million!"

The price soared, and with each increase, Serena’s expression turned more sour. Her eyes never left me.

"Anthony," she hissed, "I’m giving you one last chance..."

"VIP No. 31 lights the sky lantern," the auctioneer called, interrupting her.

Serena’s face drained of color. She whipped her head toward the VIP room.