The CEO's Divorced Wife is Pregnant

When I was young, my father used to say, ‘When you work for the people at the top, never let them remember that you are human. They pay enough for even you to forget.’ My hand caresses my hot cheek, which has been slapped twice now by the beautiful woman standing in front of me, who is huffing and puffing as if she has no other way to show her anger. She is smaller than me, thin, almost frail, with emerald green eyes and soft red hair cascading in waves around her face. My eyes can’t help but fall on her reddening hand that had just slapped me. She has tears in her eyes; anyone would think she was the one who got slapped. "Well?" The red-haired woman presses. "Well, what?" I whisper the words, and she turns to Anastasia like a baby chick looking at her hen mother. "Say it!" Anastasia, her ‘friend’, screams in her place. “Why was Melissa's necklace in your bag, you thieving b***h? Do you need her to hit you again so you can get some common sense?" Everyone is looking at me. I may have married Dean Rochester, but I'm still just his driver's daughter, no, his thieving driver’s daughter. My father was almost arrested for stealing, saved only by Dean’s kindness, but naturally, like my father, I am a thief to these people. It is always so hard to breathe at these events, but- “Look at your hands, Melissa; they are all red.” Anastasia says loudly enough to attract more attention from the passers-by; soon, the entire floor of the hotel falls silent, and everyone’s eyes fall on me. I can feel their cruel judgment and hear their dry snickers. I fold my hands into fists so no one notices they are trembling as I swallow dryly and prepare to speak. "I said that I didn’t-" Red wine washes over my face, silencing me before I finish. As I gasp at the flavour and smell stickly clinging onto my body, Anastasia screams. "Just tell the truth before we get the security cameras. Are you stupid or what? Do you think you have nine lives to lie like this?" Anastasia lifts her hand in preparation to slap me. My hands itch to grab her hair and tug it, maybe even crush her face in the chocolate fountain while I’m at it, but Dean’s words linger in my mind. ‘Don’t cause any trouble for me, Cecilia.’ Fuck. Why threaten me with cameras instead of going straight for them? With no other choice, I close my eyes and pray the sting fades quickly, but the pain I expect never comes. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Dean's deep voice fills my ears, and silence dominates the space, hushing even the shocked murmurs. "She- she stole Melissa's necklace; we found it in her bag.” Anastasia reports as if she were held at gunpoint. Dean throws her hand, which he caught midair, causing her to stumble backwards. My eyelids flutter open to take in the tall back blocking my view of the two girls, all before Dean’s handsome and cold face turns to me, his blue eyes pinning me in place. "Is that true?" Huh? Does he have to ask? It's a contract marriage, yes, so we don’t know much about each other because we hardly spend time together but...isn't this too much? It's been three years, and none of his watches have ever gone missing! So what kind of question is that? "No. It’s not true.” I answer. "Dean, don't you believe me?" This time, it's not Anastasia but Melissa, the soft red-haired with a delicate frame, who speaks, causing me to flinch. Melissa is also his first love. She landed in the country three days ago after studying art abroad for a little over three years, so the fact that I flinched is tied to how delicate she sounds. For some reason, I feel like I have lost even though I have done nothing wrong. My voice isn’t as soft as hers, and my body isn’t as delicate either. I want to cry, but isn’t that more embarrassing? "My wife says she didn't take it." He answers cooly, and hope surges in my chest. "But it was in her bag? Dean, my mother gave me that necklace." At the personalised touch, Dean sighs. Sensing his mood shift, Melissa bites her lip and takes a deep breath as if to calm herself before speaking. "Look, I'm not even mad anymore, so I won't press charges. Just tell your wife Cecilia to apologise, and I'll drop this whole thing since I have it back anyway.” Mellisa adds as if that was her last mercy. What mercy? I didn’t take the necklace in the first place. Why do I, who has been slapped, embarrassed, and doused with wine, have to apologise? "But I didn't steal her necklace.” I add calmly; Dean’s presence and the way he took my side earlier made it easy for me to regain my confidence. "Why do you women always....” Dean mutters something under his breath; before I can catch the last bit, he turns to me. “Just apologise so we can go.” What? If I apologise, it's the same as accepting that I took the necklace. "Dean, I-" The look in his eyes hardens, so I bite my tongue and bow low. At my actions, Dean steps aside from shielding me to expose my bowed body. "I- I'm sorry." The words slip out through gritted teeth. “Sorry for what? Ruining the party? Stealing? Be specific!" Anastasia chimes. Hah... "I'm-" Before I can speak, Dean speaks over me. "Don't push your luck, Ana. You only needed an apology, right? Surely, you aren’t the type of person to go back on your word, are you, Melly?" Hah... The woman is ‘Melly’, but we have been married for three years, and I am still Cecilia to him. Before the disgust can settle into bitterness, Dean’s warm coat carrying his cologne covers my shoulders. Just like that, the bitterness turns into envy. I want to be ‘Melly’—the woman he talks about as if she were a dream. Yes, he is firm with her here, but that’s only because he knows her personality responds to that side of him. His hands burn my back as he turns me towards the exit and escorts me amid the peeping eyes. It's all embarrassing, but my heart still sings at his scent surrounding me. I am such a fool for falling for a bastard like him, but I can’t help it; I am sure he wanted to stay longer at the party but is leaving because of me. This half-hearted kindness is killing me. ** “You aren’t coming in?” I ask with a frown as I look down at Dean, who is still seated in the car. The cold wind blows, forcing some strands of my dark hair out of its updo. My body feels gross and sticky from the wine. Shit, will the stains even come off this time? I rented this dress because all the ‘allowance’ he pays me goes to my family. I can't afford a full wardrobe when he attends parties like the one we just left on a weekly basis, and all the clothes he ordered ‘for me’ filling my wardrobe are in Melissa’s size, so renting is the only option for me. “I need to head back to the party.” Dean says, and the urge to ask, ‘What? Why would you go back there after what happened to me’ fills me, but I c**k my head to the side instead, knowing he hates it when I question him. “It’s her birthday, Cecilia; surely you understand.” He says as his blue eyes take in the expression on my face. Do I understand? “Plus, I think we should stop here.” This time, not understanding his words, the question slips from my mouth. “Stop what?” "It’s time we got divorced, Cecilia. Melissa… I want to pursue Melly now that she is staying in the country.” "What?" I repeat the word stupidly because nothing else can flow from my lips.