He Bred Heirs, I Chose a New Groom

When Jonathan Shaw brings his seventh pregnant mistress to me for the delivery, his friends start taking bets on how long it'll take before I break down. But even after the baby's cries echo through the delivery room, they never hear me lose control. "Come on, this is the seventh one. Are you sure she isn't done with you this time?" Jonathan shrugs. "She can't have children, and I've got a family legacy to carry on. I'll end up having kids with other women so they can inherit the family business either way. I might as well have a few now and let her get used to it." As soon as he finishes speaking, I walk out carrying the newborn. Following standard procedure, I announce, "Congratulations. He weighs seven pounds, six ounces. Both the mother and the baby are doing well." Jonathan smiles as he takes the baby from my arms. Then, he hands me a divorce agreement. "Sign it," he orders. "It's just an act to humor her. She refuses to have our second child unless I divorce you first. Once the second baby's born, we'll have eight kids." I've gone along with his little charade seven times already. This time, I sign my name without hesitation. Jonathan seems to have forgotten one thing. It's not that I can't have children. We're just genetically incompatible. If I want a child, I just have to find a different man. Why would I spend the rest of my life raising someone else's children just to stay married to him? Chapter 1 Sophia's POV I handed the signed divorce agreement back just as my husband's seventh mistress, Irene Lawson, was wheeled out of the delivery room. Without a second thought, my husband, Jonathan Shaw, shoved past me and rushed to her side. The impact hit my still-healing abdomen, sending a sharp pain through me. My face turned pale. No one noticed. Instead, everyone crowded around Irene and asked if she was all right. I leaned against the wall and slowly made my way back to my office. The moment I spotted the miscarriage report on my desk, tears filled my eyes. Three days before Jonathan's seventh illegitimate child was born, I had another threatened miscarriage. It was the third child I'd lost. While I was writhing in pain on the operating table with no family member to sign my critical condition notice, Jonathan was at the opera house where we'd fallen in love. On the third day of my recovery, he dragged me out of the hospital bed at 3:00 am just so I could deliver his newest mistress' baby. His bloodshot eyes followed me as I was pulled toward the delivery room. "Sophia, Irene's still young. She doesn't know what she's doing. You're the only person I trust," he sobbed. That was the moment I silently changed into my scrubs. I stopped fighting back. Unlike the last few times, I didn't scream at him or demand answers. I even stopped swearing I'd rather take off my white coat and be condemned for abandoning my duty than walk into that delivery room. Instead, I personally wheeled my husband's mistress into surgery as if she were any other patient. After ten years with Jonathan, I could tell that he had truly fallen in love this time. I reached out and gently touched the photo of Jonathan and me. His face was bruised and one of his arms was in a cast, while the other was wrapped around me. He was grinning from ear to ear. My trembling finger slid from its frame. Written in carefree strokes on the back were the words "I'll protect Sophia forever." I had just turned 18 when my gambling-addicted father sold me to a brothel. Jonathan had saved me. He was beaten so badly that he broke his arm and could never play basketball again. Yet, while he was in the hospital, he pulled me in for a photo with a huge smile to celebrate my birthday. "Don't worry. I'll protect you from now on." I traced my fingers over his face in the photograph and muttered, "You saved my life once, and I gave you three children. We're even now." I tore the photo into pieces and threw them into the trash. A knock came at the door. Jonathan walked in. His eyes immediately landed on the empty picture frame. "Where's our photo?" he asked. Before I could answer, he excitedly held out his phone. "What do you think about this name for the baby?" The moment I saw the name on the screen, it felt like someone had crushed my heart. Years ago, he'd spent night after night flipping through books to find the perfect name for our first child. One of those names was now engraved on our baby's headstone. He had forgotten the name we'd chosen for our first child. I studied his face. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were filled with tenderness. It was unmistakably the joy of becoming a father again. That was when I finally accepted that he had truly forgotten that we had once had a child. Our baby had lived for only 37 days. He was born with a genetic disorder, so he was frail from the very beginning and never made it through his first winter. "Sophia?" Jonathan called my name when he noticed that I was lost in thought. The smile on his face faded. "I thought you'd made peace with this by now. I've told you that I need an heir. If you loved me, you'd understand that—" "Use this one." I cut him off, pointing at his phone. Jonathan followed my finger. He froze, but just as he was about to speak, a commotion erupted behind him. Chapter 2 Sophia's POV Jonathan's assistant, Timothy Rivers, stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Mr. Shaw, Ms. Lawson is looking for you," he said. Jonathan immediately put his phone away and said, "I only changed my profile picture for now. It was just to make Irene happy. Don't think too much about it. I'll change it back later." With that, he hurried out. I watched quietly until he disappeared. Then, I looked down and changed the matching profile picture I'd had with him for the past ten years. I also unpinned our chat. He didn't know that I had already submitted the divorce agreement through my lawyer. In one month, our divorce would be final. There wasn't going to be a "later". After handing over my work to a colleague, I returned to my hospital room. A bouquet of lisianthus sat on the bedside table. The caregiver smiled at me when she saw me come in. "Your husband's so thoughtful. He sends you flowers every single day without fail." I looked at her unfamiliar face and smiled back. "You must be new here." Everyone in this hospital knew that I had delivered all of my husband's mistresses' babies. I had been the subject of gossip for years. Was that what she meant by love? The "husband" the caregiver was talking about wasn't Jonathan either; it was his assistant. Jonathan had always been meticulous about things. Even while he was busy with his mistress giving birth, he never forgot to have someone send me flowers for comfort. Before the caregiver could respond, I handed her the bouquet. "Throw these away. I'm allergic to pollen." The smile vanished from her face. She took the flowers and left. A moment later, I got a message from Jonathan. "Did you get today's flowers? I picked them out myself." My fingers paused over the screen. I was reminded of the day he proposed. The entire venue had been covered in flowers. Every single bloom had its stamens carefully removed. As he slipped the ring onto my finger, I saw cuts covering his hands and burst into tears. He just laughed it off. "So? I told you I'd give you a proposal you'd never forget. I wasn't lying, was I?" I knew what it looked like when Jonathan loved me. That was why I knew better than anyone what it looked like when he didn't. Yet I kept refusing to let go. I watched him father illegitimate child after illegitimate child with other women, and still, I couldn't bring myself to leave. I was tired now. If he wanted to have children with other women, he could have as many as he liked. I didn't reply. That night, I actually managed to sleep, but the nightmares never stopped. When I opened my eyes the next afternoon, Jonathan was beside my bed. He was holding my phone and frowning. "Why did you change your passcode?" I ignored his question. "What are you doing here?" A milky scent clung to his clothes. I instinctively turned my head away. Jonathan caught the look of disgust on my face. He furrowed his brows, but controlled his temper. "You didn't reply to my message," he said with a trace of grievance in his voice. I looked at him in silence. We had promised each other that no matter when a message came in, we would reply as soon as we saw it. Somewhere along the way, our chat had become nothing but me talking to myself. If I remembered correctly, the last time he had replied was a month ago. He even used his alternate account for it. "I was asleep," I said casually. "I didn't see it." He hesitated, looking unsure of how to begin. Then, he finally said, "Irene wants a wedding. Sophia… could you give her the one you've been planning?" I froze. After seven years of marriage, we'd never had a wedding because his family refused to accept me. He promised that on our seventh anniversary, he'd finally give me one. I spent months planning every detail. But our anniversary had come and gone. The wedding had been repeatedly postponed. The first time he postponed it, he told me he had to leave on a business trip. In reality, he was taking his first mistress to a prenatal appointment. It had only been three months since we had lost our first child. On the very day the doctor told us that our genes were incompatible and that we would never have a healthy child together, Jonathan started having an affair. Chapter 3 Sophia's POV The second time Jonathan and I tried to have a wedding, three of his mistresses showed up pregnant. I became a laughingstock in front of everyone we knew. By the third attempt, I had unexpectedly become pregnant with our second child. The night before the wedding, he forced me to deliver his mistresses' babies. By the time I walked out of the delivery room, blood was running down my legs. After that, he kept bringing one pregnant mistress after another to me. Arguments and screaming became part of our daily lives. Eventually, we both stopped talking about the wedding. I had waited ten years for a wedding that never happened. Meanwhile, Irene got one without even trying. It made all those years I had spent clinging to him, hesitating, seem like one cruel joke. I blinked hard, forcing the tears back. Then, I smiled. "Sure." Jonathan was shocked. He hadn't expected me to agree so easily. He took my hand and said gently, "Sophia, it's all my fault this time. I promise I'll give you the perfect wedding someday." I quietly slipped my hand free. "I'm tired." I closed my eyes and said nothing more. Maybe it was guilt, but for once, he didn't lose his temper. Instead, he tucked the blanket around me. "Get some rest. I'll stay with you tonight." I didn't answer. Less than five minutes later, his ringtone shattered the silence. Jonathan got to his feet almost immediately. "Irene," he muttered. I felt the breeze as he walked away. I opened my eyes and watched him disappear through the door. Then, I opened the text Irene had sent me. "Since you two are divorced, pack your bags and leave. Stop freeloading in my house. Why are you still throwing yourself at someone else's husband? That's pathetic. "One phone call is all it'll take for Jonathan to come running back to me." I glanced toward the doorway and gave a faint smile. I knew he wouldn't be coming back tonight. A little later, Irene posted a photo on social media. Jonathan was on one knee as he washed her feet. The caption read, "I can't bend over, so I had to make Mr. Shaw do it for me." She even tagged me. In the comments, Jonathan's friends affectionately referred to her as "Jonathan's wife". I recognized every account that liked or commented on the post. It turned out Jonathan had already introduced Irene to all of his family and friends. I was the only one he'd kept out of that part of his life. The old me would've caused a scene. Now, I simply liked the post and locked my phone. I didn't even care about Jonathan anymore. Why should it matter whose feet he was washing? The next morning, Irene stormed into my hospital room. She flung a divorce settlement agreement at me. "What gives you the right to take half of Jonathan's assets? He promised me that everything he owns would go to my son!" she screamed, her face twisting with rage. "You're not taking a single cent from him!" I calmly picked up the papers and flipped them open. "I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. I forgot to tell you that the apartment you're living in is in my name. You're the one who needs to move out." Irene's face flushed crimson. She jabbed a finger at me. "You bitch! You're nothing but a barren loser. You lost three babies, yet you still think you deserve his money? You're way too greedy. No wonder your kids paid the price." The moment those words left her mouth, I exploded with rage. I slapped her. At the same time, another slap landed hard across my face. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Jonathan pulled Irene into his arms, his eyes burning red. "Who said you could touch her?" Chapter 4 Sophia's POV The moment Jonathan saw the blood at the corner of my mouth, he instinctively let go of Irene. Panic flashed across his face. "Sophia, are you okay? I didn't mean to…" Just as he took a step toward me, Irene burst into tears. She clung to her arm and put on a wounded expression. "I was just here to thank Sophia for delivering my baby. I didn't think she'd throw your divorce agreement in my face and call me a homewrecker." Tears streamed down her face as she covered her cheek and pretended to be frightened. "I told her that we really love each other, and she slapped me. She even told me to get out of our apartment." As Jonathan's expression darkened, a flicker of triumph crossed Irene's face. She lifted her chin and shot me a smug grin. Without hesitating, Jonathan yanked me out of the hospital bed. "Apologize to Irene," he roared. I fell to the floor and looked up at him. Then, I laughed. "What part of what she said isn't true? Why should I apologize? Well, she got one thing wrong. She's not the other woman. She's the seventh one." "You—" Irene burst into tears and collapsed into Jonathan's arms. I pulled myself to my feet, gave Jonathan one last cold look, and headed for the door. "What if people start calling our baby a bastard because she won't apologize?" Irene cried. "I'd rather die than let my child go through all that!" In the blink of an eye, someone grabbed my wrist. Jonathan looked at me with so much contempt that he might as well have been looking at his sworn enemy. "Apologize." Then, he issued a threat. "Don't forget that your grandmother is still in the intensive care unit. She's only alive because of the medical resources I provide." He pulled out his phone and called Timothy. "Stop producing Mrs. Yeager Senior's medication." My eyes widened in disbelief as I stared at the man in front of me. He knew my grandmother, Susan Larson, was the only family I had left in this world, yet he was threatening to take her life for Irene's sake. Jonathan glanced at his watch impatiently. "Without that medication, her condition will worsen within three days." Even though my legs felt like they were made of lead, I turned around. Tears filled my eyes as I forced myself to apologize to Irene. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Irene timidly leaned against Jonathan. "She doesn't seem to mean it. Is she really apologizing? She hit me, yet she doesn't even have to face any consequences for that? My face still hurts." At some point, Jonathan had called for his bodyguards. One of them kicked me in the leg. My knee slammed into the floor. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Jonathan looked down at me. "Kneel and apologize to Irene. You're going to stay there until she believes you're sincere." I didn't move. He immediately made another call. A voice came from the other end. "Jonathan? Where's my granddaughter?" "Don't!" I lunged forward, snatched the phone from him, and ended the call. "Don't tell my grandmother. She can't take this. I'll apologize." And so, I knelt outside the hospital room and repeatedly apologized to Irene. Passersby stopped and watched the scene unfold with excitement. I lost track of how long I had been there. By then, my knees were badly swollen. Irene covered her mouth and yawned. "Jonathan, I'm tired." Jonathan immediately picked her up. As he passed by me, he coldly said, "Consider this a lesson. Don't come after her again." My strength gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. After some time, someone suddenly dumped urine on me. "Is she that shameless quack doctor? She slapped a woman who just gave birth three days ago!" "So she's Mr. Shaw's wife? Hasn't her husband fathered seven illegitimate children?" "I can't believe someone like her can be so cruel. She's even on the news." The sound coming from the television in the hospital room made me freeze. I forced myself to stand and rushed toward my grandmother's room. Chaos filled the room. Doctors were desperately trying to save her while footage of me kneeling on the floor played on the television. When my grandmother saw me, her eyes widened. She clutched my hand tightly. "Sweetheart, leave him. I can't keep being a burden to you." After saying those words, her eyes stayed wide open. Then, she stopped breathing. I held her in my arms and stayed there until a shadow fell over me. "I'm sorry for being late." "My grandmother's dead. I'll make sure none of them get away with this," I said hoarsely. I looked up. My eyes were red, but I smiled. "You'll help me, won't you?" … Third-Person POV Meanwhile, after tucking Irene in, Jonathan still couldn't shake the uneasiness weighing on him. He called Timothy. "How is she?" "Mr. Shaw, something bad happened. Mrs. Shaw sold all the company shares under her name at a massive loss. The stock market has crashed." Just then, Jonathan happened to look up at the hospital's obituary board. The names of those scheduled for burial were scrolling across the screen. Among them was Susan's name.