A Pregnancy?

VENESSA'S POV

ONE WEEK LATER

"Hell no! This cannot be it!" I exclaim inwardly as I stare down at the pregnancy test in my hand indicating two vertical lines. I was hoping that the cause of my nausea would be something else, but deep down I knew this might be it. 

My husband and I haven't had s*x in a year, because he no longer felt enough desire for the act. Or he was already seeing someone else who fulfilled his every desire. I kept loving him because I was unaware of his selfish affairs and hoped that things would change as long we are together. So this pregnancy cannot be his. There is only one other person I have shared a bed, the gorgeous, rich stranger I met several days ago!

I was seeking to overcome the pain of my husband's betrayal, and a night of bliss in the arms of the stunningly beautiful man felt like the perfect escape. It was beyond exhilarating while it lasted. But the night didn't last forever and once the effects of the alcohol washed away I was too embarrassed to face the man at dawn that I escaped the room before he was awake.

I never thought I would regret the thrilling night with him, but looking at the positive test in my hands now I realize that I messed up my life worse than my cheating husband had already destroyed it. My life has turned into a nightmare that gets worse with every new dawn. 

I have dreamt about my gorgeous, rich escort every night, because I couldn't stop wondering if there was another woman in his life. If he thought of me after I left.

"Venessa! Where the fuck is my breakfast!" my husband's arrogant voice thunders across the rooms.

He came back after the luxurious vacation he took with my money and another woman. He has been more arrogant than ever and keeps stepping far away from me to take phone calls. He seems happy with his life. I never told him that I discovered his posts or the selfish manner he spent my money.

I should probably tell him to prepare his breakfast himself, that I am not his paid maid. But I am dealing with a lot right now that I do not feel ready for a war with him, yet.

I need money to divorce him before he learns of my pregnancy. Once I am no longer his wife I will disappear. I will fake my own death and change my names just so that the Weiss bank won't stalk me forever in hope of getting back the loan. But to divorce my husband I need to hire a good lawyer. After that night of bliss my bank balance can barely buy me food for the next two days. 

Bianca called to apologise after failing to show up at the luxurious bar that night despite making me wait. She said she had extreme hangover and didn't feel like her mind would be useful in such a state. Today I am visiting her apartment to see if she can lend me money to divorce Marcus. I never told her about the stranger I met. I am not sure I should tell anyone about that reckless night. The consequences of it are utterly horrifying.

I burry the test deep in my closet before getting dressed to go visit my friend. After that I will head to my small office, see if there is a new client. Being a small interior designer means I only get hired by small businesses or middle class home owners. They offer limited budget to operate with and pay little for the service as well. I had hope of doing better until my husband wasted the massive loan I borrowed to support his dying business.

"Your food is on the kitchen counter," I tell him as I make my way to the door. 

"Sometimes I think I could have ended up with a better wife if I wasn't so impatient," he mutters loud enough for me to hear while still in his gaming desk.

Three years ago he begged me to be his wife. If I had known better I would have spit in his face. 

I step out without uttering a word and starts to take the long walk towards my friend's place. She lives in a classic apartment near downtown and barely works a day in her life as her family's wealth pays for everything. Her life is as easy as easy as sliding down a slope.

I have only walked a few metres when a black Audi pulls up very close to me.

"Mrs Wellington! May I speak with you for just a minute?" a voice calls and I halt. I watch as a middle aged man in an expensive suit steps out. 

I have never seen him before. And how does someone who drives such an expensive car know my name?

"I couldn't find you at your little office, so I had to come all the way to your home. Glad I found you out here," the man says as he approaches.

He must be the first rich client to ever seek my services. I hope it's his five bedroom mansion that he needs perfectly designed. 

"You seek my services, sir? I am sorry you had to come all the way here," I say, gladly shaking his hand.

"It is not your services that I seek, Mrs Wellington. I am here to offer you mine. I am Josh Hudson, you might have heard of me. I am after all this city's best divorce lawyer," he informs in a proud tone. I have heard of the Hudson law firm. He only get's hired by the rich. Why is he talking to me? To seek directions?

"Someone called my office to say that you would be needing my services," he adds.

That doesn't make sense. I never told anyone about my intention to divorce my husband. Bianca would not have assumed that I want a divorce and called this man whose services I cannot afford. But who else could have been mad enough to direct him to me? Not even my husband knows I plan on divorcing him.

"I . . . am not sure who might have called you, sir. I may be in need of legal representation but I cannot afford you," I say. 

I expected him to be disappointed, but he smiles. "Your legal f*e has been taken care of, mum. I am a prestigious lawyer, believe me I wouldn't be here if a client hasn't paid me a great deal of money. In fact more than what I usually get," he answers.

Someone paid for my divorce? That's extremely weird. I know it's not Bianca because I would rather she helped me pay the loan than hire this heavily sort after lawyer to handle my divorce.

"Who is this person who called your firm?" I ask. 

"He said that you should consider him an interested party. That you already have substantial proof of your husband's infidelity," Mr. Hudson answers. 

My stomach churns in worry. It isn't Bianca who paid the lawyer, but the mysterious stranger who called my phone a week ago and gave me hints that lead me to discovering my husband's treacherous posts on I*******m. The stranger said I should consider him an interested party when I demanded his name. I got too preoccupied with my husband's infidelity and the massive loan I have no hope of repaying that I never wondered about the identity of my mysterious caller again.

Now he paid the city's most prestigious lawyer to handle my divorce as if it's his business. I could not afford the legal f*e but I am not mad enough to jump on this opportunity provided by an anonymous person.

"I am sure the caller paid for your trip to come find me. I am grateful for their help, but please let them know that I cannot accept this from someone who hides their identity," I tell Mr. Hudson. 

I would rather carry on to my friend's place and beg her for some money to hire a cheap attorney. 

"Come to my office if you change your mind. Whoever the caller might be I can assure you that they care deeply about you," Mr. Hudson urges. 

I do not know of a person who cares about me that much. And I am not falling into a twisted trap by some mysterious stranger. 

Nevertheless I nod at Mr. Hudson's suggestion before turning and carrying on walking towards my friend's place. 

I think about Oren Weiss every step of the way. He was the kindest, gorgeous rich man I have ever met. Now I am going to have his child and he will never know. Of course he would be horrified if he learned that the lowlife he had a night with is pregnant with his child. I would be called a gold digger from every corner of earth. So it's best I keep this child a secret and hope that I will successfully divorce my husband and escape this city with a new identity.