Bequeathing All My Wealth To My Husband's Bastard Son

Seven months into my pregnancy, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my husband and the poor student I had been sponsoring.

"Stephen, if your wife finds out that the baby in her womb is actually our fertilized egg, she might get so angry that she’d kill herself, don’t you think?" Rosie said and chuckled softly.

"It’d be better if she did. That way, all her assets would be mine," Stephen coldly answered. "The only problem is if she decides to divorce me and kick me out. That’s why we need to keep this secret. Once our child inherits her assets, we’ll deliver her a crushing blow."

That night, I pretended I didn’t hear a thing. I gave birth to the child and raised him with utmost care.

Twenty-four years later, after my son returned from studying abroad, I transferred all my company shares and assets to his name.

At a press conference, Rosie, the impoverished student before, holding my husband’s arm and clutching a maternity test report. She walked straight up to me and declared, "Kian is my biological son. You’ve been taking him from me all these years. It’s time to return him to me now."

My son also threw a divorce agreement in my face, his words cold and ruthless. "Hurry up and divorce my Dad so we can finally reunite as a family of three. Considering you gave birth to and raised me, I’ll give you a monthly allowance of two hundred dollars."

I smirked faintly and replied, "Alright."

...

“Wife, weren’t you supposed to attend a board meeting at the company today? Why are you still working in the study?” Stephen walked in with a cup of hot milk, placing it gently in front of me, his voice as tender as ever.

I closed my laptop and smiled up at him. “Kian’s teacher mentioned he’s been coughing a bit lately. I’ve arranged for him to see the best pediatric specialist tomorrow.”

Touched, Stephen stroked my hair and said, “You always get so concerned whenever Kian has even the slightest discomfort. When he grows up, he’ll definitely repay your kindness with filial devotion.”

I looked at Stephen and replied matter-of-factly, “Of course. I’m Kian’s mother. If I don’t look after him, who will?”

Moved by my words, Stephen smiled warmly. “You’re amazing. Marrying you and raising a child with you has been the greatest blessing of my life.”

I met his gaze, his eyes filled with affection, and I offered him a faint smile without saying a word.

Stephen and I had been together for ten years—three years of dating and seven years of marriage.

During this decade, he had always cared for me when I was sick or tired, surprised me in unexpected ways, and held me tightly during moments of passion, whispering that he would love me forever.

Had I not overheard that conversation that day, I would never have believed that the man who claimed to love me so deeply could betray me like this.

“Aunt Rosie, you’re finally here!” Kian’s delighted voice suddenly echoed from the living room.

I immediately got up and walked out of the study, only to see Rosie stepping through ...