Lies, Betrayal, And The Baby I Hid Away

I stepped into our penthouse for my baby shower, caressing my eight-month bump, expecting balloons and laughter.

But instead of joy, I found my husband, Michael, cradling a newborn that wasn't ours. Beside him sat his assistant, Serena, looking far too comfortable. Michael looked me dead in the eye, his expression cold and flat, and introduced the infant as his firstborn son.

They didn't apologize. Instead, Serena mocked my high-risk pregnancy, calling me a mere "incubator" for the spare heir. When I demanded they leave, Serena shoved me.

I hit the floor hard, screaming in agony as pain ripped through my belly. But Michael didn't help me. He stepped over my convulsing body to comfort her, accusing me of being dramatic. He walked out with his new family, leaving me bleeding alone on the nursery floor.

Lying in the hospital later, I overheard Michael on the phone. He wasn't worried. He laughed, revealing his plan to use my family's connections for his IPO before divorcing me and taking full custody of my child.

He didn't love me. He only wanted the heir.

That was the moment the old Olivia died. I knew I had to deny him the only thing he truly wanted. I wiped my tears, touched my stomach where my son was still kicking, and made a decision that would sever us forever.

I told my lawyer to deliver a simple message to Michael.

"Tell him the baby didn't make it."

Chapter 1

Olivia POV

I stepped into the living room of our penthouse, my hand resting instinctively on my eight-month baby bump, only to find my husband holding a newborn baby that wasn't ours.

The room was decorated in soft pastels for my baby shower. Blue and pink balloons bobbed gently against the ceiling. A banner reading Welcome Baby Hayes was draped across the fireplace. But the silence was heavy, suffocating—strangling the joy right out of the air.

Michael was sitting on the velvet sofa. He looked up at me, his eyes devoid of the warmth they usually held. They were flat. Dead.

Next to him sat Serena, his executive assistant. She looked too comfortable. She looked like she belonged there.

"This is my son," Michael said.

His voice was steady. Calm. Like he was ordering coffee, not detonating my entire life.

I froze. The gift bag in my hand slipped, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

"What?" I whispered, the word barely escaping my throat.

Serena shifted, adjusting the blanket around the infant in her arms. She looked up at me with a small, pitying smile that made my stomach turn.

"We didn't want you to find out this way, Olivia," Serena said. Her voice was syrupy sweet, coating the poison in sugar. "But Mikey couldn't keep it a secret anymore. He wants his son to have his name."

I looked at Michael. I waited for him to laugh. To tell me this was some sick, twisted joke. But he didn't.

He stood up and