FATHER OF A BASTARD SOM ASKED FOR A DIVORCE PLUS 50 MILLION

Chapter 3

Michael looked at her, his heart breaking completely. All the years he thought she loved him for who he was... it was all a lie. She really did look down on him.

"I don't care about your money, Susan," Michael said softly. "I'd rather be a poor man with my dignity than live in a palace built on lies."

Seeing that her threats weren't scaring him, Susan’s posture softened. She took a deep breath, smoothing down her hair, and her tone shifted back to a gentle, persuasive whisper.

"Michael... please. Don't speak in anger," she said, walking up to him and placing her hands on his chest. "We have five years of marriage. We have two beautiful kids. I know you're upset and confused right now, but let's just calm down."

Michael didn't move. "There's nothing to calm down about."

"Just admit you made a mistake," Susan pleaded, looking up at him with tearful eyes. "Admit that you were wrong to doubt me and run those tests. Withdraw this foolish idea of a divorce. If you back down right now, I will forgive you. I won't hold this against you, and we can go back home and pretend none of this ever happened. We can keep our family together, Michael. Just apologize."

Michael stared into her eyes, feeling a deep, hollow disappointment. He had given her a chance. He had given her the opportunity to come clean, to tell him the truth, to apologize for shattering his heart. But even now, backed into a corner, she was still trying to manipulate him, threaten him, and force him to accept a lie.

He reached down, took her hands off his chest, and pushed her away.

"No, Susan," Michael said firmly. "I'm not apologizing for finding out the truth. And I am never coming back to that house."

Susan’s face twisted in rage. "Fine!" she spat, grabbing her purse off the table. "Stay here and throw your little temper tantrum! When you realize how cold the real world is without my backing, you'll come crawling back to me. Let's see how long you last!"

She slammed the hotel door behind her, the loud crash echoing through the empty room.

Michael stood alone in the quiet suite. His hands were shaking, and he felt completely drained. He couldn't go home—that place wasn't his home anymore. He couldn't even bring himself to go to the hospital to work today. He was in no state to treat patients.

He looked at his phone again. The call log. The hair. The strange feeling from the night before.

‘Something isn't adding up,’ Michael thought.

He pulled on his shoes, grabbed his coat, and left the room. He took the elevator straight down to the lobby and walked up to the front desk.

"Good morning, sir. How can I help you?" the receptionist asked with a polite smile.

"I need to see the security camera footage for the hallway outside room 408 from last night," Michael said directly. "Around midnight."

The receptionist's smile faded slightly. "I'm sorry, sir. Hotel policy strictly forbids us from sharing security footage with guests due to privacy regulations. Only law enforcement can request that."

"Please," Michael begged, leaning over the counter. "It's an absolute emergency. I just need to see who walked into my room last night."

"I am very sorry, sir, but I cannot do that," the receptionist replied firmly.

Michael let out a heavy sigh, realizing it was useless to argue. He turned around and walked out through the glass sliding doors of the hotel, stepping into the bright, noisy morning street.

He pulled out his phone, ready to call a taxi, when something caught his eye across the busy road.

Standing near the edge of the curb was a woman in a trench coat. Michael froze.

From behind, her height, her frame, and the way she held herself looked almost identical to Susan. But as the wind blew, Michael saw her hair.

It was short—cut neatly just above her shoulders.

Michael’s heart leapt into his throat. "Wait!" he shouted, taking a step forward.

The woman suddenly turned her head slightly, as if sensing someone was watching her. Before Michael could see her face, she quickly stuck her hand out, opened the door of a waiting yellow taxi, and slid into the back seat. The cab pulled away into the heavy morning traffic before he could even cross the street.

Michael stood on the sidewalk, his jaw slightly open, watching the taxi disappear into the distance.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

‘That figure... it was practically Susan's double, he thought, his head spinning with dark possibilities. And she has short hair. Exactly like the woman I remembered from last night.’

He gripped his phone tightly as a wild, terrifying thought took root in his mind.

What if the woman in his bed last night... wasn't his wife at all?