Chapter 1 - The Morning of the Wedding
My Husband Went to Marry His Pregnant Mistress—So I Kicked His Entire Family Out of My Mansion. When He Returned With His New Bride, He Screamed at What He Saw...
The morning my husband went to marry his pregnant mistress, his mother was screaming at two sheriff's deputies outside my front door.
Three moving trucks stood in the driveway of my multimillion-dollar California estate. Six members of my husband's family were watching uniformed movers carry carefully inventoried boxes toward the trucks.
And my husband?
He was thirty miles away, standing beside another woman in a white dress, trying to obtain a marriage license while he was still legally married to me.
My name is Caroline Bellamy. I'm forty-five years old, and for fourteen years, I believed Julian Keene was the man I would grow old beside.
That morning, I discovered just how much a person could lose while still believing he owned everything.
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Gloria Keene shrieked, pointing a trembling finger toward my upstairs window. "My son has lived here for fourteen years! This is his home!"
My estate manager, Felix Moreno, stood beside a deputy with a thick folder.
"Mrs. Keene, your son's attorney received the court order," he replied. "The court granted Mrs. Bellamy exclusive possession. Your family's permission to stay as guests has also been withdrawn."
Gloria's face turned crimson.
"You think a piece of paper makes you better than us?"
I stepped onto the balcony.
"No, Gloria. It means you can't ignore the judge."
Her mouth fell open.
For fourteen years, that woman had criticized my cooking, my career, my inability to give her grandchildren, and even the expensive furniture she enjoyed sitting on.
But the moment I stopped paying for her comfort, she suddenly remembered we were family.
Below me, Julian's younger sister, Tessa, emerged from the house carrying a framed oil painting.
I recognized it immediately.
It was my late mother's portrait.
"Tessa," I called sharply. "Put that painting down."
She froze.
"I'm taking something my brother deserves!"
"That painting belonged to my mother before you ever met Julian."
"I don't care!"
Felix approached her with the inventory officer.
"The artwork is trust property, ma'am. It cannot leave."
Tessa tightened her grip.
For one horrible second, I thought she might smash it against the marble steps.
Then the deputy stepped closer.
She surrendered it, cursed me, and stormed toward her husband's SUV.
I watched Felix return the painting to the house.
My hands were shaking.
Not because I was afraid of losing the painting.
Because six weeks earlier, I would have apologized to Tessa for embarrassing her.
That woman no longer existed.
At 11:47 a.m., Gloria and the remaining relatives finally left the property. Their personal luggage went with them. Julian's inventoried belongings were transferred into licensed storage under the court-approved arrangement.
Nothing was stolen. Nothing was destroyed.
Every action had been reviewed by my attorney.
I had spent years learning that Julian could turn any emotional reaction into evidence against me.
This time, I had given him nothing to twist.
At 12:22 p.m., my private investigator sent a photograph.
Julian stood outside the county clerk's office with a beautiful, visibly pregnant blonde named Sloane Pritchard.
She wore a white maternity dress.
He wore the charcoal-gray suit I had purchased for our thirteenth anniversary.
Sloane smiled directly at the camera, one hand resting on her belly while the other held a large white envelope.
My husband was smiling too.
Fourteen years of marriage.
A baby with another woman.
And a wedding he believed I would simply accept.
I stared at the photograph until the phone rang.
My attorney, Dana Wexler.
"Caroline, he's made his move."
"I know. I saw the picture."
"Listen carefully. He's represented to Sloane that your divorce is already final."
I felt cold.
"Our divorce hasn't even reached judgment."
"Exactly. We believe he's shown her something that isn't genuine."
Before I could answer, the security intercom chimed.
Julian's black Mercedes had stopped outside the gates.
Sloane sat in the passenger seat, clutching her stomach.
Julian got out and marched toward the intercom.
"CAROLINE! OPEN THE GATE!"
His voice echoed across the courtyard.
I activated the speaker from upstairs.
"You're not permitted onto the property, Julian."
"Where the hell is my family?"
"They've left."
"What do you mean, they've left?"
"Their guest permission was revoked. They were given notice. They refused to leave. They are no longer here."
He looked toward the empty driveway.
Then at the two deputies standing near the security office.
His expression changed.
"Where are my things?"
"At a storage facility. Your attorney has the inventory and access information."
"You moved my belongings while I was gone?"
"Under the court order."
He stared toward the house.
"YOU PLANNED THIS!"
I leaned toward the microphone.
"Did you plan to marry another woman while you were still my husband?"
Sloane suddenly opened the passenger door.
"What does she mean, still married?"
Julian turned.
"Sloane, get back in the car."
"No."
Her voice rose.
"Julian, you told me the judge signed our papers!"
The air seemed to stop moving.
I heard Dana calling my name through my phone.
"Caroline, don't argue with him. Preserve everything. Let the attorneys handle it."
But Sloane was already walking toward the gate.
She held up the white envelope.
"He showed me the divorce judgment! He said everything was finished!"
Julian caught her elbow.
"Stop talking!"
She pulled away.
"Was it a lie?"
His silence answered her.
For the first time that morning, I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then Julian looked up toward my window.
"Caroline, whatever you think you've accomplished, you're going to regret humiliating me."
The deputy stepped forward.
"Mr. Keene, you need to leave the property."
Julian ignored him.
"Fourteen years, Caroline! You can't erase fourteen years!"
I looked at the man I had loved.
The man who had slept beside me after my surgeries.
The man who had kissed my forehead while another woman carried his child.
"No, Julian," I said quietly. "But you can destroy them."
I disconnected the intercom.
Ten minutes later, the Mercedes disappeared down the road.
I thought that was the end of the worst day of my life.
Then Dana sent me a photograph of the document Julian had apparently shown his mistress.
It was a supposed court filing requesting termination of our marital status.
It carried a copied court stamp.
And beneath the words Agreed and stipulated was a signature that looked exactly like mine.
I had never signed it.
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Someone had forged my signature to convince another woman that my marriage was over.
And that was only the beginning...
