His Heiress Wife is Never Coming Back!

(Nina's POV) The last car pulls out of the driveway, and I finally let my shoulders drop. Three hours. Three hours of smiling until my jaw ached, of pouring champagne with a steady hand, of telling Tyler's business partners how proud I am of him for closing the Ashford deal. Three hours of being the perfect Mrs. Miller. Now the house is quiet. Just me, the leftover smell of roses going a little brown at the edges, and Tyler standing by the window with his back to me, still in his suit, tie loosened like he can't wait to shed the whole night off his skin. I kick off my heels. My feet are screaming. "That went well," I say, walking up behind him, close enough to slide my arms around his waist. "Did you see Mr. Ashford's face when you brought up the Nevada expansion? I thought he was going to propose to you right there." Tyler doesn't laugh. He doesn't even turn around. Something cold drops in my stomach, quick, like a stone through ice. "Tyler?" He turns then. And I know—before he says a single word—I know from the way he won't look me in the eye that whatever is coming, I'm not going to like it. "Nina." He says, "Nicola is pregnant." For one second, one silent, frozen second, I actually think I misheard him. That three hours of smiling melted something in my brain, scrambled his words into something they weren't meant to be. But then he takes a step towards me, and the sound shatters whatever spell I've been under. "What did you just say?" "Nicola." He rubs the back of his neck, still refusing to meet my eyes. "The girl I brought back from Europe. She's pregnant with my child." Heat crawls up my neck and into my face so fast it burns. Shame, sharp and ugly, even though I haven't done a single thing wrong, crawls through me. "We met in Europe," he continues, flat, like he's reading me a weather report. "We spent a night together." No apology in his voice. No guilt. Nothing. "You told me I was your only one." My voice comes out smaller than I want it to. I hate that. I hate that even now, some stupid, soft part of me is still trying to reach him. Waiting for the part where he tells me it's a mistake, a misunderstanding, a bad joke gone too far. "Three years, Tyler. You said—" "We've been together three years and you haven't given me a child." He cuts me off like I'm the one who owes him an explanation. "The Miller family needs an heir, Nina. You know that." "We can adopt." The words tumble out before I even think them through. "There are children who need—" "An adopted child doesn't carry my blood." He says it so easily. Like it's obvious. Like I'm the slow one in the room for not understanding sooner. I feel something c***k open in my chest. "So what," I say, and my voice is shaking now, "what exactly are you asking me?" He actually has the nerve to step closer, like this is a business proposal he's about to sweeten. "Let her stay. Let her have the baby here, where we can take care of her properly. Once she gives birth, she'll leave. I'll get my heir. And you'll still be Mrs. Miller. Nothing will change." Nothing will change. I laugh. It comes out broken, more like a sob than a laugh, and I don't even recognize the sound. That's when I see her. Nicola, standing near the hallway like she's been there the whole time, hand resting protectively over a stomach that isn't even showing yet. Her eyes are wet, doe-like, so carefully sad. Something in me snaps. I'm across the room before I even decide to move, my hand flying toward her. I don't even care what happens next. I just want her to feel one fraction of what's tearing through me right now— "You cheated on me with this slut!" I scream, my nails inches from her face. "And you want me to take care of her and her illegitimate—" Something yanks me back hard. The slap cracks across my cheek before I even see it coming. My head snaps sideways. My ears ring. For one dizzy second the whole room tilts, and I taste copper where my teeth caught the inside of my cheek. Gina. My mother-in-law is standing there, chest heaving, her hand still raised like she's ready to do it again. "That is my grandchild in her belly," she hisses, voice trembling with fury, "how dare you call him illegitimate?" I press my hand to my burning cheek and just... stare at her. This woman who hugged me at my wedding. Who taught me how to make Tyler's favorite soup. Who called me daughter. She doesn't look at me like a daughter now. She's already moved, already standing beside Nicola with an arm curled protectively around her shoulder, shielding her like I'm the threat in this room. Like I'm the one who did something wrong. "Nina, calm down." Tyler's voice, infuriatingly level, infuriatingly calm, like he's talking a toddler down from a tantrum. "The important thing isn't that I cheated." "Not the important thing?" My voice cracks right down the middle. "I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing that night." He says it so smoothly I almost believe he's rehearsed it. Maybe he has. "What matters now is that she's carrying my heir. Isn't it better this way, Nina? Since you can't—" He doesn't finish. He doesn't need to. Since you can't give me one anyway.