Divorced in the Delivery Room,My Husband’s Mistress Gave Him Disease

The call came while I was in labor.

Bartholomew Delgado's voice was calm, almost bored. Sophie Simmons, I've been having an affair.

Let's get divorced before the baby's born.

Maddie's young. She can't handle the gossip that comes with being the other woman.

I need to make her my wife.

And don't think you can use the child to trap me.

"You of all people should understanda child born unloved only suffers."

I looked at the photo he'd sent. Nodded like a good girl.

No hysterics this time. No screaming, no begging.

I didn't tell him that his precious little darling was an escort with HIV.

Or that after all the time he'd spent in her bed, he probably wouldn't survive the thirty-day cooling-off period before our divorce was finalized.

Bartholomew came to deliver the divorce papers in person.

I'd just given birth. The delivery had nearly killed meI was barely conscious, clinging to life by a thread.

He looked at my ashen face and frowned.

Not with concern. Not with tenderness.

Just irritation that I'd made a decision without his permission.

"I told you this child wasn't supposed to be born."

"Maddie doesn't like competition for my attention."

I gazed down at the sleeping infant in my arms and managed a pale smile.

"Sorry. Your call came too late."

"By the time you were proposing to Madeline Pruitt, I was already on the operating table."

The baby wasn't due today. Not according to schedule.

But Madeline had sent me a dead rat in a box. The shock sent me into early labor.

I'd called Bartholomew countless times from the hospital. Not once did he pick up.

Then, as they wheeled me into the operating room, fireworks exploded outside the window.

I squinted through the glass.

Bartholomew had spent millions on a proposal spectacular for his mistress.

Rose petals carpeting the ground. Fireworks painting the sky.

And there, spelled out against the darkness in a swarm of drones:

Madeline Pruitt, I love you.

I gave birth to our child to the sound of those celebrations.

The hospital issued critical condition notices. Multiple times. I called until my phone died. No one answered.

In the end, I signed the surgical consent form myself. Hands shaking. Teeth clenched.

The timing was almost funnyhe showed up the moment the baby was born.

Not because he was worried.

Because he wanted me to sign the papers. Wanted me to take the child and disappear so his mistress could take my place.

I swallowed a sigh.

Forced a smile.

Reached for the divorce agreement.

When I sat up, I pulled at the incision on my abdomen. Fresh blood bloomed through the gauze.

Bartholomew's frown deepenednot at the blood, but at the inconvenience.

"Sophie, don't bother playing the victim with me."

"I'm not heartless. I'll make sure you're compensated."

"Sign quietly, and I'll pay child support in full upfront. Enough for you both to live comfortably."

My pen hovered over the page.

I studied his cold, indifferent face and felt... nothing.

Maybe I'd simply run out of tears.

I remembered the first time I'd discovered his affair. I'd wept. Begged. Climbed onto the windowsill with one foot dangling over the edge.

He'd watched mewatched his wife threatening to jumpand shrugged.

"Sophie, stop crying. I haven't felt anything for you in a long time."

"Once, your tears might have moved me."

"Now? They just make me sick."

That night, Madeline's voice had whined through his phone, demanding he come back. He'd left without a backward glance.

They left me there to cry myself unconscious.

I wept for what felt like hours.

And finally understood just how ruthless a man could be once his heart had turned.

Refusing to accept defeat, I threw myself into investigating Madeline Pruitt with the desperate resolve of someone ready to drag everyone down with her.

I wanted to keep fighting.

I wanted the world to see Bartholomew Delgado's true, hideous face.

But the moment I saw Madeline's photograph

All my hatred, all my resentment, evaporated in an instant.

Because I recognized her immediately.

The pure, untouchable goddess Bartholomew worshipped was a former patient of minean HIV carrier I'd once treated.

Bartholomew had a congenital heart condition.

If he contracted the virus, he could die at any moment.

In that instant, I let go.

Heaven would exact its own price from every faithless, heartless man. All I had to do was give fate a gentle push at the right moment.

So I stopped fighting. Stopped making scenes.

I focused on my pregnancy and played the role of the perfect, gracious Mrs. Delgado.

Then I waited, quietly, for the day Bartholomew Delgado would die.

I must have drifted off, because his impatient voice snapped me back.

He assumed I couldn't bear to leave. His knuckles rapped the desk in irritation.

"Sophie, what's the holdup now?"

"Did you think pushing out a baby would make me see you differently?"

"Let me be clearI don't love you. And I could never love any child you bore me."

"If you won't sign willingly, I'll file for divorce myself. And I'll make sure your child inherits the same miserable life you had!"

Of course. The people who know you best always know exactly where to cut deepest.

When I was eighteen, my parents divorced.

My father forced my mother out with nothing, then publicly announced he was severing all ties with me.

I wasn't allowed to carry his surname. Wasn't entitled to a cent of his inheritance. Wasn't permitted any connection to him whatsoever.

Abandoned by my own father, I became the laughingstock of our social circle.

The girl everyone mocked. The one they whispered about and shut out.

Back then, only Bartholomew stayed by my side.

He walked me to and from school every single day, persistent and unwavering.

He stepped in front of me whenever someone tried to hurt me.

When I was at my lowest, drowning in despair, he told me:

"Sophie, you're the best person I know."

"Even if the whole world abandons you, I'll always be here."

"I love you. And I'll spend my life giving you the happy, whole family you deserve."

For that promise, I changed my entire future.

I abandoned literature for medicine, determined to cure his condition.

I risked my life standing beside him through the brutal war for his inheritance.

I gave up my career and my ambitions to stay home, nurturing my body for pregnancy.

I believed that after surviving all that hardship, sweetness would finally come.

I never imagined that while I was pregnant, Bartholomewunable to control his urgeswould fall into Madeline Pruitt's bed.

When I confronted him, there was no guilt on his face. No shame at his betrayal.

He simply looked at me with that calm, detached expression and said:

"I can't help it, Sophie. I didn't want things to turn out this way."

"But that day, when I saw those stretch marks crawling across your belly... something in me recoiled."

"I can't feel any desire for you anymore. But I'm still a man. I still have needs."

"And Maddieshe gives me a thrill I've never experienced before."

"So it's only right that I give her the status and respect she deserves."

The Delgado family had iron-clad rules about such things, and Bartholomew had always prided himself on his moral discipline.

He looked down on men who kept mistresses, who tangled themselves in sordid affairs.

So he did the "honorable" thinghe asked me for a divorce outright.

At the time, I was barely pregnant.

And to get what I wanted

To watch Bartholomew Delgado pay the price with my own eyes

I swallowed every humiliation.

Even when he paraded Madeline Pruitt at galas for all the world to see.

Even when he called me a clingy, dried-up hag in front of every camera and microphone in the city.

I endured it all.

For this exact moment.

I picked up the pen and signed my name on the divorce papers without hesitation.

Right on cue, Madeline's call came through, her sugary voice oozing through the speaker.

"Bartholomew, aren't you done yet?"

"I've already changed and I'm waiting for you..."

"Don't tell me you've gone soft because of the baby. You're not having second thoughts about the divorce, are you?"

"If that's the case, I'll never speak to you again!"

Bartholomew's breath hitched as he stared at the provocative photo she'd sent. His voice dropped, husky with want.

He smiled at the screenthat same careful, coaxing smile he used to give menow lavished on his new prize.

Then he snatched the divorce papers from my hands and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

The edge of the paper sliced a thin, stinging line across my palm.

The crash startled Noah into wailing.

The doctor rushed over to check on the commotion.

Bartholomew never looked back. Not once.

I let out a quiet breath and reached for my son.

But the doctor grabbed my hand first, his face tight with alarm.

"What happened to your hand? Did Bartholomew do this?"

"Come with mewe need to run tests. You know he has"

He couldn't bring himself to say it.

But I lifted my head calmly, and for the first time in months, my smile was real.

"I've always been the one managing Bartholomew's health. Of course I know better than anyone."

I'd received his test results yesterday.

Exactly as I'd suspected.

HIV. Positive.

The infection had already spread to his cardiovascular system.

A common cold. A sudden sneeze. One bout of strenuous exercise.

Any of them could kill him.

Which meant that for the next month, every moment he spent with Madeline brought him closer to the grave.

During my hospital stay, Bartholomew whisked Madeline around the globe in celebration.

He bought her a mansion. A diamond ring.

He announced to the world that she was the real Mrs. Delgado.

He acted like a lovesick teenager, burning bright and reckless.

They threw money around at clubs, made eternal vows beneath the Eiffel Tower.

As if I'd never existed at all.

I couldn't be bothered to care. I had loose ends to tie up.

Once I'd recovered enough, I took Noah to the Delgado estate.

Inheriting the family fortune, securing my position at Delgado Groupnone of it mattered if I couldn't win over the old patriarch first.

Edgar Delgado was the key to everything.

The moment I stepped through the doors, shouting echoed through the halls.

A teacup shattered against the wall, hurled by Edgar himself.

"Worthless wretch!" he roared at his grandson.

"Years ago, you turned this family upside down to be with that woman. And nowhow long has it even been?you want a divorce?"

"Generations of Delgado honor, dragged through the mud because of you!"

Bartholomew pressed his lips into a thin line, saying nothing, his body a shield around Madeline.

That stubborn defiance on his face...

For a split second, the sight made something twist in my chest.

Years ago, he'd knelt before Edgar with that same look, begging to marry me.

As the sole Delgado heir, the family had already arranged a far more advantageous match for him.

But Bartholomew refused to budge, dead set on being with me.

Back then, he'd knelt before Edgar with that same stubborn determination.

He stayed on his knees until even the hardest hearts in the Delgado family softened.

All these years later, Bartholomew hadn't changed one bit.

The only difference? The woman standing beside him, the one who held his heart

It wasn't me anymore.

I hesitated, unsure whether to approach.

Then the baby burst into wails.

Bartholomew turned at the sound.

But he made no move to help.

He watched with cold detachment as I fumbled to soothe the child, his eyes filled with nothing but irritationas if I'd committed some unforgivable offense by disturbing him.

In the end, it was Pearl Lambert who couldn't bear to watch any longer. She stepped forward and took the baby from my arms.

Even at the sight of his grandson, Edgar's expression didn't thaw.

He tossed a photograph at my feet, his face like carved granite.

"I don't care how you two fight or what drama you create."

"But there's one line you will not crossthe Delgado name and our stock price."

"Explain this. Now."

The photo was a livestream screenshot featuring Madeline.

An influencer to her core, Madeline never missed a chance to flaunt her wealth or parade her relationship. During yesterday's broadcast, eagle-eyed viewers had spotted a box of HIV medication on her vanity.

One tiny screenshot. That was all it took to ignite a firestorm.

The Delgado Group's PR team had scrambled to contain it, but the damage had already reached Edgar's ears.

I glanced at Bartholomew's ashen face, then stepped forward.

"It's a misunderstanding. That medication is a new drug our research team has been developing."

"I'll clarify everything with the media personally. The family's reputation won't be touched."

Edgar studied me for a long moment, then gave a satisfied nod.

He shot Bartholomew a look heavy with meaning.

Then he produced a golden locket and clasped it around the baby's neck.

"Sophie, rest assured."

"You've given the Delgado family its firstborn heir. We won't forget what you've done."

"If this boy of mine causes you any more trouble, you come straight to me. I'll set him straight myself."

"I'll beat some sense into this arrogant brat!"

I stopped needing anyone to fight my battles a long time ago.

When things between Bartholomew and me had been at their worst, everyonethe entire Delgado household, even people I'd once called friendshad chosen his side.

Some picked apart my every flaw. Others accused me of being petty and small-minded.

And Bartholomew himself had looked down his nose at me and sneered:

"Sophie, you're nothing but a castoff your own family threw away. What gives you the right to make demands of me?"

"One word from me decides whether you rise or fall."

That was when everything crystallized.

Love, devotion, affectionall of it was smoke and mirrors.

Only power and money were real.

I'd barely managed to smooth things over with Edgar.

I was heading home, hadn't even reached the corner, when Bartholomew's palm connected with my face.

No restraint. No mercy. Every ounce of his strength behind it.

My cheek swelled instantly, the skin burning like fire.

His expression remained frigid, utterly unchanged.

He stared at me with those eyesthe same eyes that had once held such tenderness for menow brimming with nothing but disgust.

"Sophie, I underestimated you."

"Agreeing to the divorce to my face while stabbing Maddie in the back and running to Grandfather with your lies."

"You think this will win me back? You think this will make me love you again?"

"Keep dreaming."

"I'm sick of looking at that face of yours."

"You could strip naked in front of meyou could die holding that baby in your armsand I wouldn't feel an ounce of pity!"

Bartholomew's voice carried across the street, every vicious word designed to humiliate.

Passersby slowed. Stared.

He slammed the car door and peeled away without a backward glance.

Minutes later, my phone buzzed.

He'd frozen every one of my cards. Left me stranded with nothing but the clothes on my back and a newborn in my arms.

When I turned toward the house, Nanny Lambert stood in the doorway, wringing her hands.

"Mr. Delgado has retired for the evening. We shouldn't disturb his rest."

She swallowed hard. "Mr. Bartholomew asked me to pass along a message. He says you should use this opportunity to reflect on your behavior."

"And if you try any more tricks... you won't see a single cent after the divorce."

There it is.

Relying on others. It never works. Not really.

Fortunately, I'd seen these people for what they were long ago. I'd stopped expecting anything from them.

I held my baby close and walked.

Didn't look back.

An hour's journey. For a woman still weeks from recovering from childbirth.

Every step carved itself into my bones.

By the time I reached the villa, my clothes were soaked through with sweat. The pain had hollowed me out until breathing felt like a luxury I couldn't afford.

The housekeeper rushed to my side, her face crumpling with distress. She helped me inside, opening her mouth several times but never quite managing to speak.

I understood why the moment I looked up.

My belongings lay scattered across the floor.

Our wedding portraitBartholomew's and mine.

My medical journals, painstakingly collected over years. Rare volumes of classical medicine I'd treasured since my apprenticeship.

Every small memento that had once held the weight of our shared past.

Some had been slashed with lipstick, ugly red X's scrawled across their surfaces.

Others floated in puddles of filthy water, reeking of sewage.

And threading through it allsoft, breathy moans drifting down from upstairs.

"Bartholomew, you're so bad..." Madeline's voice, syrupy and coy. "You tore my dress again."

"How are you going to make it up to me this time?"

His response came low and thick, dripping with desire.

"Be good, baby. I'll transfer this villa into your name. How does that sound?"

"We can plant your favorite flowers in the garden together. Set up the nursery together."

"I'll give you everything you want..."

I'd thought I was numb to it by now.

But hearing those wordsthose exact wordsmy vision blurred at the edges.

Because he'd said them to me once.

He'd sworn on the heavens themselves that he would give our child and me the best life imaginable.

Now he'd ripped out the flowers I'd planted. Thrown away our wedding portrait.

He wouldn't even look at our baby.

The fickleness of the human heart. How quickly devotion curdles into cruelty.

I'd finally tasted the very dregs of it.

I allowed myself one moment. Wiped my eyes. Then I turned and walked toward the door, my daughter secure in my arms.

The housekeeper hurried after me. "Ma'am, it's so latewhere will you go by yourself?"

"And all your things... you're just leaving them?"

I drew a long breath. Steadied myself.

"Yes."

The tainted man. The tainted past.

I was done with all of it.

I told her not to touch anything Bartholomew or Madeline had handled. Made her promise to disinfect everything thoroughly.

Nanny Lambert, who had followed us to the door, nodded over and over. Worried I'd have nowhere to sleep, she pressed several hundred dollars into my palm and insisted I find a hotel.

"Ma'am, Mr. Bartholomew still cares for you in his heart."

"Just... just wait until he's had his fun. Until he's ready to settle down. He'll come back to you."

He won't.

Because Bartholomew Delgado wouldn't live long enough.

Sure enoughthat very night.

He collapsed in Madeline's bed, vomiting blood, and was rushed to the hospital.