Who’s the Father My Husband Thinks It’s Not Him

Eight months pregnant, I stumbled upon my husband’s sterilization certificate.

It was dated a year ago.

Staring at my swollen belly, I felt the blood drain from my face. Panic surged through me as I clutched the document and rushed out, desperate for an explanation.

When I arrived at Alaric’s office, I heard laughter spilling out from inside—boisterous and mocking.

“Alaric, you’ve really gone all out for Calla. You got sterilized, stayed a virgin for her, and even gave your wife to other men every night. Now she’s eight months pregnant, and you still don’t know whose child it is. Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out the truth once the baby’s born?”

Alaric's voice dripped with disdain.

“If she hadn’t insisted on marrying me, Calla wouldn’t have left the country heartbroken. Even if she does find out, what then? Look at her—who else would want her now?”

The men burst into laughter, chanting "Alaric is mighty!" as they egged him on.

Then came the final blow.

Alaric even opened a gambling pool—millions wagered on one cruel question: whose child am I carrying?

In that moment, the love I believed in shattered. It had all been a lie—a carefully crafted trap.

Fine. If this is the game they want to play, I’ll play my part.

I pulled out my phone and calmly dialed the hospital’s number.

“Hello, I’d like to schedule an abortion appointment.”

——

Inside, the laughter continued.

“If that fool of a wife gives birth without even knowing who the father is, don’t you think she’ll go mad?” someone jeered.

Alaric sneered.

“She’s too stupid to find out. And even if she does—what can she do now? Abort the baby at eight months? Come on. No one else would want her. I’m her only option.”

Another man chimed in, smirking.

“Everyone knows how obsessed Seraphine is with you. She even forced Calla to leave just so she could marry you. That’s cold.”

Calla.

Alaric’s adopted sister. The same girl who had once knelt before me, begging me to send her abroad. I had done it to protect her.

And this is how they repay me?

“But seriously,” Cassian said with a sly grin, “we’re all dying to know—whose baby is she carrying?”

Alaric looked disgusted.

“Whoever it is, it’s not mine. Just the thought of her makes me sick. I’d rather watch a movie than touch her. She drove Calla away. I can’t stand the sight of her, let alone share a bed.”

Cassian chuckled. “How about a wager then? Let’s bet on the father.”

Everyone turned to Alaric Vane, waiting for his reaction.

He took a slow sip of wine, eyes cold.

“Ten million says the baby’s Cassian’s.”

The room exploded with laughter.

“Alaric, you’re ruthless!”

“I’ll bet 10 million it’s Jett Corbin’s.”

“Five million on Cassian Rourke.”

“Six million!”

Their jeers kept echoing like knives in my ears. I stood frozen outside the door, feeling like I had fallen into an icy abyss.

Everything I once believed in—his tenderness, his promises, his socalled love—was nothing but a lie.

A sick game. A cruel performance.

I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. Cold sweat soaked my back. Heart racing, I fled from that suffocating house like prey escaping a predator.

Once outside, I took a few deep breaths, steadying myself. My hands were still trembling as I pulled out my phone. Without hesitation, I dialed the hospital.

“Hello, I’d like to schedule an abortion appointment.”

If Alaric and his socalled brothers were willing to gamble millions on the child in my womb, then I’d give them a parting gift they’d never forget.

“I’ve taken the medication. The procedure’s scheduled in three days,” I told the nurse calmly.

With the appointment slip in hand, I returned home exhausted, only to find that the door’s keypad lock kept flashing “incorrect password.”

Confused, I was about to call the building manager when the door opened from the inside. Calla stood there—back from overseas—wearing my nightgown.

“Sisterinlaw,” she smiled sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I just got back. My brother was worried about me staying alone, so he asked me to move in. I didn’t bring pajamas, so I borrowed yours. Hope you don’t mind?”

My gaze fell on the straps slipping off her shoulders, the obvious love marks on her collarbone, and the smugness in her eyes that she tried—and failed—to hide.

“Seraphine Locke is the most considerate woman I know. Of course, she won’t mind,” came Alaric’s voice as he stepped out, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“Calla’s memory is terrible,” he added with a smirk. “So I changed the passcode to her birthday.”

I felt a bile rise in my throat. The very sight of him made my skin crawl. I said nothing and brushed past them, heading upstairs.

That night, Alaric, who had never cared about my nighttime habits before, suddenly offered me a glass of milk.

“You’re in your third trimester now. You need more calcium and protein. Be good and drink it.”

I stared at the milky liquid. The smell was off—sweet, yet slightly metallic.

“I don’t want it.”

He forced a smile, trying to maintain the illusion of care.

“It’s for your own good—and the baby’s. Come on, be obedient.”

Then, without warning, he pressed the glass to my lips and poured it down my throat.

The moment the liquid touched my tongue, an overwhelming drowsiness overtook me. My vision blurred, and my limbs turned heavy. In the haze, I thought I saw shadows—people—moving around my bed.

By the time I woke up the next morning, my body was aching all over. I could barely sit up.

As soon as Alaric left for work, I reached under the bed and retrieved my phone. I had hidden a tiny camera inside the flower pot in the corner—just in case.

When I played the footage, shame and fury exploded inside me.

In the video, Alaric and Calla entered my room. He wrapped his arms around her like a lover, not a brother.

“Brother,” she whispered, “isn’t this too much? She’s already eight months pregnant…”

Despite her words, her tone held no remorse—only twisted satisfaction.

Alaric looked down at my unconscious form with a chilling coldness.

“If she hadn’t forced you to leave back then, we’d never have been apart. Now she’ll learn the price of hurting you.”

He waved his hand, and a strange man stepped into the frame.

“Alaric,” the man said, eyeing me, “won’t this affect the bet?”

“The baby’s already formed. All we have to do is wait for the birth and run a DNA test,” Alaric replied flatly.

The man laughed, and Calla walked over and kicked me—hard.

“You’re sure the sedative was strong enough?”

“She’s been drugged like this for months. She won’t wake up.”

Alaric’s voice was calm, calculating.

“Once she gives birth, I’ll have the DNA results. Then I’ll publicly shame her—call her a whore, strip her of her dignity, and kick her out of the Vane family. No one will stop us from being together.”

A flicker of ruthlessness flashed in Alaric’s eyes—it pierced through me like a dagger. My chest tightened painfully.

Then, without another glance, he wrapped his arms around Calla and turned away, leaving me stranded in the darkness of despair. I felt like I was drowning in an abyss, unable to escape.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the video playing on my phone. My fingers trembled, but I didn’t hesitate. I swallowed the pills the doctor had prescribed.

“What are you taking?”

A voice cuts through the silence. I turned and saw Alaric standing in the doorway, his tone laced with sudden nervousness. His eyes were fixed on me, concerned.

“Just a calcium supplement,” I replied calmly.

He relaxed at once and nodded.

“I left a document upstairs. I’ll be quick.”

As he turned and climbed the stairs, I picked up the phone he had carelessly left on the table.

I entered Calla’s birthday as the password. The screen lit up, revealing a seductive photo of her—artfully posed, barely clothed.

So his phone really was dualsystem.

My stomach churned, but I forced myself to move quickly. I opened his chat app. At the top was a message thread with Calla. The second was a group chat labeled "VIP Access Thread."

I tapped it open.

What I saw nearly made the phone slip from my hands.

The latest message was a full schedule—my schedule.

Each date had a name listed beneath it.

“Alaric, when’s my turn again? The brothers can’t wait!”

“Seriously, if your wife were working at a club, I’d get a monthly membership just to book her.”

Cassian’s vulgar messages made my mind go blank. A wave of nausea hit me. Shame, fury, and helplessness surged through me like a flood.

Then a new message appeared.

It was from Calla.

“Brothers, I’m back in Canada! My brother booked out the entire Royal Club to celebrate tonight. Come join the fun—there’s a surprise!”

She followed it with a photo.

When I saw it, the world spun. My knees buckled.

It was me—a photo someone had secretly taken, doctored with humiliating edits. Scrawled across it were the words: “Obedient Dog.”

Terror gripped me. Something was horribly wrong.

With shaking fingers, I copied all the chat records, photos, and schedules to my own phone.

I was about to call the police when Alaric’s voice echoed behind me again.

“Wife, you’re trembling. Are you cold?”

He draped a blanket over me. I quickly locked the screen and slipped the phone into my pocket.

“It’s just the weather,” I mumbled. “Lately, it’s been colder.”

Alaric smiled gently, but I could barely stand the sight of him.

“Calla’s finally home. We’re having a celebration at the Royal Club tonight. Dress nicely, okay?”

The moment he mentioned Royal Club, my entire body tensed. A chill ran through me.

“I’m not feeling well today. I think I’ll stay home.”

His expression turned stormy in an instant.

“You still refuse to go? Calla suffered so much abroad because you forced her to leave. Now she’s back, and you won’t even attend her welcome party?”

“She doesn’t hold grudges, but you insist on spoiling her night?”

Without waiting for an answer, Alaric grabbed my wrist and dragged me out the door, ignoring the fact that I was heavily pregnant.

When we arrived at the Royal Club and the doors swung open, every eye in the room turned to me.

I could feel it—mockery, lewd curiosity, and cruel anticipation.

“Well, well… the guest of honor is finally here.”

Calla gave me a mocking smile before grabbing my arm and pulling me to the center of the dance floor.

I stopped and looked at her, my face paling as my patience thinned.

"Aren’t you the protagonist tonight?" I asked, my voice cold.

She covered her mouth and let out a soft, smug laugh.

"I’m not like you, sisterinlaw. You’re the real star of the show now. So many people lining up just to be near you!"

My fists clenched tightly as the image of that schedule on Alaric’s phone flashed through my mind again. A lump of nausea rose in my throat.

"I’m not feeling well. I’m going home," I muttered, already turning to leave.

I felt stripped bare in this crowd, exposed to their leering eyes and veiled laughter. Humiliation tightened around me like a noose—I just wanted to disappear.

But before I could step away, Calla blocked my path with a look of faux innocence.

"Oh dear, did I upset you? If it’s my fault, then I apologize..."

She pouted slightly, clutching a glass of champagne, her voice full of affected grievance.

Alaric stepped in immediately, snatching the glass from her hand.

"You're on your period, you shouldn’t drink," he said gently.

Then, without hesitation, he turned and held the glass out to me.

"Seraphine, I’ve let go of the past—you forcing Calla to leave for abroad—but this is her celebration party. Who are you trying to humiliate with that face?"

"Drink this. Apologize. Move on."

I stared at the glass, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I’m pregnant," I said slowly, my voice thick with disbelief. "And you’re telling me to drink alcohol?"

He dismissed my concern with a wave of his hand.

"It’s just a glass of champagne. I already asked the doctor. You’re eight months along, the baby’s stable. One drink won’t hurt."

I pushed his hand away.

"I’m not drinking. I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t owe anyone an apology."

Alaric’s expression darkened at once.

"Seraphine, I’ve already given you enough respect tonight. Don’t test me."

"Brother, don’t be so harsh."

Calla stepped in with a gentle smile, offering me a glass of water instead.

"Dear, don’t take it to heart. Drink some water and calm down. Alaric didn’t mean to upset you."

I took the glass from her hand. The water looked clear, harmless.

"Can I go upstairs and rest after this?" I asked softly.

She nodded sweetly.

I downed the water in one gulp. The warmth slid down my throat—but almost immediately, something felt wrong.

Heat spread through my body. A fire under my skin. My limbs turned heavy. My nerves sparked and trembled like worms crawling inside me.

"What... did you give me?" I choked out.

My knees buckled. The world tilted. And then I collapsed—right into someone's arms.

Through blurred vision, I saw Cassian’s face leering over mine, his hands already touching places they shouldn’t.

"Calla, you really outdid yourself this time. Sleeping pills made her limp like a corpse. But this..." He licked his lips, eyes gleaming.

"This is so much more fun."

Calla stood beside him, watching me with smug satisfaction.

"It’s a new drug—foreign. It’s called Obedience Serum. She’ll forget everything by morning. No matter what happens, she won’t remember a thing."

"Play however you like."

"Let me go!"

I screamed with the last scrap of strength I had, but my body wouldn’t respond. My limbs wouldn’t move. I could only stare helplessly at Alaric, silently pleading for a trace of mercy.

He looked at me—expressionless, unmoved—and turned to Cassian.

"Just be careful. She’s still pregnant, and the baby’s part of our milliondollar bet."

My heart shattered.

“You’ll regret this.”

My voice was faint, the last flicker of will in my fading consciousness.

Calla leaned into Alaric’s arms and let out a shrill, mocking laugh.

“Regret? Sisterinlaw, this potion has another effect—you’ll forget everything by morning. When you wake up, you’ll still be smiling sweetly, calling me ‘Calla.’ Like nothing ever happened.”

As her words echoed, Cassian stepped forward, a lewd grin plastered on his face.

“Good dog, kneel.”

And before I could resist, my knees buckled. My body dropped to the floor against my will, as if I no longer had control over it.

My vision blurred. The laughter around me twisted into something monstrous—echoing, sharp, surreal. And then, the world faded into black.

In the suffocating darkness, I felt something tearing me apart—brutal and merciless. My soul splintered with every agonizing second.

When I regained consciousness, I was sprawled on the cold floor, my lower body drenched in blood. Thick, hot, and flowing fast.

“Help... me...”

I crawled, inch by inch, toward the door, pounding on it with what little strength I had left.

“Stop pretending,” a voice sneered from behind the door. “You were screaming louder than anyone earlier. Sleep it off—you won’t remember a thing in the morning.”

Then Alaric’s voice followed, calm and chilling.

“Now that we’re done with business... let’s move on to the next.”

A loud bang echoed as the door slammed shut, sealing me in isolation.

I gritted my teeth and dragged myself out. Blood smeared across the marble floor, leaving a ghastly trail behind me. The air was heavy with iron and pain.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital ward. The sterile scent of disinfectant filled my lungs.

A nurse stood beside me, holding a clipboard and speaking softly.

“Ms. Locke, I’m sorry. We couldn’t save your baby. Would you like us to help arrange... the handling of the remains?”

Her voice was gentle, but her eyes brimmed with pity.

I took the document from her hand calmly.

“Please call a courier for me.”

Meanwhile, at the club, Alaric and his friends were still enjoying themselves when the manager rushed in, palefaced.

“Mr. Vane, something’s happened—your wife... she’s had a miscarriage.”

Alaric froze.

Just then, a delivery man approached with a package.

“Are you Mr. Vane? This parcel is for you. It must be signed for... personally.”