Ex-wife, Remarry Me with Your Children

My marriage to Spencer Yates had always seemed like a perfect arrangement. Our families benefited, and on the surface, everything was smooth.

My parents, especially, were eager for grandchildren. They kept pushing, subtly at first, then more insistently.

Each time, I could only offer a polite response, brushing off their excitement with vague reassurances.

However, there was no child coming. Every time Spencer and I were together, we were careful.

He clearly didn’t want a child and his disinterest was beginning to weigh on me.

That night was no different. As usual, we shared a brief moment of intimacy and at the crucial moment, I made a point to remind him about his parents’ wish for a baby.

But Spencer, predictably, didn’t seem to care. He ignored my hint and proceeded as he always did.

After that night, I gave up. I stopped talking about children altogether.

When my parents realized they couldn’t convince me, they shifted their focus to Spencer. They even went as far as keeping us both locked in the house together.

We were practically imprisoned by our own families, forced to spend several days together in an attempt to encourage conception.

For me, having a child was optional. A part of me didn’t really mind if we didn’t. But my family? They were relentless.

Besides, seeing the neighbor’s adorable little daughter had planted a small seed of doubt in my mind.

But Spencer? He seemed to hate me for it.

One night, he grabbed my shoulder, his grip tight.

"Tiffany Quinn!" he hissed through clenched teeth, "Was this your idea? Speak!"

Pain shot through me as his fingers dug into my skin. I winced, twisting away from him, but before I could respond, he shoved me down onto the bed.

"Speak!" he demanded, his voice rising with each word. "Are you deaf? I’ve told you it's not the right time to have a child!"

I was stunned. Tears welled up in my eyes as I lay there, staring at the ceiling.

"Spencer," I whispered through trembling lips, "If I told you this wasn’t my idea, would you believe me?"

This wasn’t the Spencer I knew, or thought I knew. He was supposed to be gentle and kind, not this cruel man looming over me, his newlywed wife.

Slap!

He leaned over and gave me a loud slap and the whole bedroom echoed.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he struck me, leaving a burning sting across my cheek. Five crimson fingerprints instantly appeared on my face and I couldn't hold back my tears of humiliation.

"Hard-headed, huh?" he sneered, his handsome face twisted with disdain. "Do you really think that just because you married me, you get to control everything, including when to have children? You don’t deserve it!"

His words were venomous, slicing into me with each syllable. His charm had turned into something ugly, cruel and dangerous.

"I didn’t! Please, let me go!" My voice cracked with desperation, but he was in no mood to listen.

That night, Spencer was different. He was reckless, completely disregarding everything he had ever said about not wanting children. In the past, he had always been cautious, especially when I was hesitant.

I didn’t know what I had done to provoke him. He was consumed by madness and I was powerless to stop him.

By the end of it, I was left broken. His family, who had been keeping an eye on us, must have heard the commotion, because those who stood guard outside our door reported it.

Satisfied now, family?

Since then, Spencer rarely came home and when he did, he always had an excuse.

"Lucy’s sick again," he’d say nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to leave his wife to care for his so-called "sweetheart."

Lucy Rivera was his high school crush, a beautiful girl with fair skin, long legs and an enviable background. Spencer had chased her back then, but she had rejected him time and time again.

Ironically, Lucy and I had shared a dorm in college and I never suspected how much their dynamic would haunt me later.

Spencer and I had known each other since we were children. When it came time to marry, we agreed quickly, perhaps too quickly.

Now, everything felt different. Spencer had changed, or maybe he’d always been this way and I just hadn’t seen it.

Whenever he went out, he never invited me along. At first, I didn’t mind. I had always been socially anxious, preferring solitude to the pressure of meeting new people.

But as time went on, his absences became more frequent. He didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. He would disappear for days, always under the guise of taking care of Lucy.

I didn’t know how much longer I could take it.

His sweetheart. It’s always about Lucy. That’s always his excuse, the same one he used to fool me, every time.

Where could I possibly vent my anger? I had no outlet, no one to listen.

But that night, something unexpected happened. Spencer came home early.

"Tiffany, come here," he called out to me.

His voice, that same condescending tone he always used, grated on my nerves. The mere sound of it filled me with disgust.

"Spencer, what’s with you today?" I snapped back, my patience already wearing thin. Since the night he violated me, my feelings for him had soured. There was no longer any illusion of a happy life together.

His dark, brooding eyes fixed on me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at me.

"Go get checked tomorrow to see if you’re pregnant. Aunt Zeina told me you haven’t had your period this month."

My heart skipped a beat. Why was he paying such close attention to something so personal? Panic surged through me. I had been so consumed with writing lately that I hadn’t kept track.

I tried to brush it off. "It’s probably just a hormonal imbalance. A lot of women experience this, it doesn’t mean I’m pregnant."

My words came out shaky. I felt a twinge of guilt for not knowing myself, but a part of me was also shocked, wondering what I would do if I actually was pregnant.

If there was a child, an innocent caught in this twisted situation, I’d have to make a plan.

Spencer wasn’t giving me any room to breathe. "I’ll take you to the hospital. Let’s go."

His voice lacked its usual coldness, which caught me off guard. He headed for the door, as if there was no question about it.

I sighed. There was no avoiding it now. I had to face the possibility.

At the hospital, I noticed something strange when we finally got the results.

Spencer smiled.

For the briefest moment, I thought I was imagining it. Was he happy?

I hesitated, unsure whether I should ask him what he was thinking. But before I could speak, he turned to me and said, "We’ll be in this together. Call me if you need anything and be careful at home."

"Hmm..." I mumbled, surprised by his tenderness. How many times had I imagined this kind of conversation? Nevertheless, I never thought it would happen at the door of a hospital, under such tense circumstances.

The elders in the family were the happiest, of course. Once they confirmed the pregnancy, they were overjoyed.

Spencer’s behavior changed too. He no longer treated me as coldly as he had before.

However, one thing hadn’t changed. He still liked staying out all night.

During the day, though, he would take me shopping for baby supplies. I watched him rush around, buying things for the baby, loading the car with bags. For a brief moment, I thought maybe he finally remembered that he had a wife and a child on the way.

But it was only an illusion. After dropping me off at home, he started changing clothes again, preparing to leave.

"Are you going out again?" I asked. I didn’t know where I found the courage, but I had to ask.

He paused, meeting my gaze for a moment. There was something in his eyes, perhaps a flicker of panic. He quickly looked away.

"I need to make money for our child’s future. These social engagements are important."

For once, he didn’t scold me for asking, didn’t make me feel like I was intruding on his affairs. He actually explained himself.

"Then be careful," I said softly. I didn’t dare ask him to come home early. I didn’t want him to think I was asking for too much.

When he left, all I had to accompany me was the sound of the door closing behind him.

In early June, the weather was clear and bright. That day, I finally gave birth to a big, healthy, baby boy. The delivery was smooth and everyone was overjoyed. Even Spencer, who smiled like I’d never seen before, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The Yateses threw a grand celebration for our son’s christening. The house was full of guests, everyone bustling about in excitement. But I never expected that on this day, all my fantasies were shattered.

A man walked into the party, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. His name was Levi Scott, a man with a mischievous smile.

As soon as Spencer’s parents saw him, their faces lit up. They treated him with a strange mix of warmth and intimacy that made my stomach turn. What was going on?

Before I had time to process it, Levi approached me, his smile still firmly in place.

“Hello, Tiffany,” he greeted me. “You’ve worked hard to give Spencer such a strong son.”

He reached out and gently touched my son’s chubby cheek. His words sounded normal enough, but there was something off about the way he said them. I just couldn’t tell why.

"Hello ... " I replied awkwardly, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

Levi didn’t seem to mind. He flashed his signature smile again, waved his hand dismissively and turned his attention to Spencer.

As the party continued, I noticed something unsettling. The bedroom where Spencer used to sleep — the decorations, the furniture — everything was done according to Levi’s preferences.

Then I overheard Spencer, speaking with rare patience. "So, how is it? Do you like it?"

The words hung in the air and I was left standing there, trying to make sense of everything.

Could this really be Spencer?

He had never been so patient, so gentle, not with me, at least.

Besides, shouldn’t today be a celebration of our son's christening? Yet, he stood there, interacting with others as though he were a mere outsider at this grand event. What was he hiding from me? I couldn’t shake the unease that crept into my chest.

"Tiffany, go and mingle with everyone," Spencer instructed, his tone firm but distant. "The nanny is watching the baby, right? Go on!"

I hesitated for a moment but realized he had a point. If I wanted my son to have a solid place within the Yates family, I needed to integrate myself into this circle of powerful people.

With that, I pushed aside the doubts that gnawed at my mind and agreed. "Okay, I’ll go now."

I gently handed my sleeping son over to the nanny, who I trusted most among the household staff. I warned her to keep a close eye on him and to make sure he wasn’t frightened by all the noise and commotion.

With a teacup in hand, I began greeting the guests. Since I was breastfeeding, I had to drink tea instead of alcohol. Many of the guests praised me, complimenting me on being a dutiful daughter-in-law and a good mother.

This banquet was filled with people from influential families, including Spencer’s high school sweetheart, Lucy and her relatives, the Rivera Family.

I spotted Lucy standing alone, speaking to someone and for a moment, I wondered if I should approach her.

"Tiffany, you’re here!" Lucy called out, her words catching me off guard.

I had no choice but to respond.

"Yes, Lucy," I said, trying to mask my surprise. "Thank you for coming. Let me offer a toast to you."

Back when we were in school, our relationship had always been lukewarm at best. We had kept things polite.

My family background was far humbler than hers and I had never dared to imagine becoming part of her world. I could still hear my father’s advice, “Be low-key.”

She waved her hand dismissively, her tone casual. "Oh, don’t be so formal! After all, we were dormmates. Congratulations! Your son is adorable. I saw him earlier and he’s so cute!"

Her calm demeanor surprised me. Weren’t there rumors of a fierce scandal between her and Spencer?

I had expected some tension, but Lucy seemed unfazed. Was this how affair partners behave nowadays?

"Where’s your son now? I’d love to see him again, that little face is just too precious!" Lucy’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she held my hand, her excitement infectious.

I didn’t like her touch, though it was unexpected. She had always seemed distant, but now, her cheerful personality threw me off.

"He’s asleep. The nanny’s watching him," I explained. "But I can take you to see him if you’d like."

Lucy’s demeanor was warm and inviting and I rarely refused people who seemed well-meaning. Her eyes shone with an innocent brightness that made it hard to suspect her of any ill intentions.

But then, her expression changed. She frowned slightly, her hand tightening around mine as she pulled me out of the crowd, her pace quickening. "Tiffany, are you really comfortable leaving your baby with someone else? There are too many hidden dangers in a rich family’s household. You can’t trust people so easily."

Her anxious words sent a chill down my spine. My heart sped up, panic creeping in as we hurried down the hallway.

"He’s upstairs ... " I muttered.

Lucy strode ahead, pulling me along in her wake, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor as we made our way through the Yateses’ grand estate. Spencer had once told me that our room was located at the innermost corner for peace and quiet.

The baby had been resting in the living room on the second floor, where there had been fewer guests. But now, I wasn’t so sure.

"Don’t overthink it. I might be wrong," Lucy said, her tone softening as she tried to comfort me. But her attempt only deepened my self-blame. How could I have forgotten the potential conspiracies in a family like this? I was a novelist, for heaven’s sake. I should have known better.

We searched frantically and as my eyes scanned every corner, tears welled up. The fear that something might have happened to my son was overwhelming.

Just as the panic threatened to consume me, the nanny appeared, looking nervous and hesitant. "Are you looking for the baby, Ma’am? Your husband and Mr. Scott just took him to the backyard garden.”

Before she could finish her sentence, Lucy grabbed my hand again, dragging me toward the garden. "Tiffany, don’t trust Levi. He may seem charming, but he’s dangerous."

I didn’t have time to question why she was helping me. All I knew was that I needed to find my child. My legs moved faster, keeping pace with Lucy as we raced through the corridors.

Finally, we arrived at the garden. And there they were, Spencer and my son.

The moment our eyes met, something shifted in the atmosphere.

The four of us stood frozen in silence. Levi’s hand rested casually on Spencer’s neck, the two of them close, their interaction more intimate than I’d ever seen before.

I stared, bewildered. The scene in front of me felt unreal, as if I were an outsider looking in on someone else’s family, unsure of where I fit into this bizarre picture.