“Good day. I am your husband’s mistress.”
I set aside the magazine layout Id been scanning and looked up at the striking blonde who appeared in the doorway of my office. She wore a sly smile as she continued, “Im afraid Ive some unpleasant newsIm pregnant. Naturally, your husband is the father.”
In my usual businesslike manner, I asked, “Do you have proof?” She grinned triumphantly and produced a crisp white document with a blue seal from her expensive leather bag. She had come thoroughly prepared.
I examined the certificate carefully. It was genuine, not some hasty forgery. No surpriseno one comes to a mans wife with this sort of tidings armed with a counterfeit, not if she knows whats good for her.
“Very well,” I conceded. “It does seem youre truly expecting. Now all that remains is a paternity test, to confirm whose child it actually is, and then everything will be as it should be.”
The blondes confidence faltered. “As it should bewhat do you mean?” she asked, uncertain.
I explained with a touch of care: “My husband will provide maintenance for you. Ill see that you have a reputable doctor, and the best possible care at St. Marys, should you choose. Youll be able to give birth with no worry for yourself or your childs wellbeing.”
She began to protest. “Dont you understand? There will be a childmy childand he or she needs a father!”
I spoke gently, almost kindly. “Our three children need a father too, and thank heavens, they have him. But rest assured, my husband will visit your baby, and when the time comes, even walk him or her to school. If you wish, your little one can spend holidays with uswe have wonderful nannies, and I truly adore children. Youll even have a bit of freedom to find your own happiness again. Take it from me, it isnt easy when youre raising a child alone.”
The blonde stood up sharply, nervously twisting the handles of her costly handbag. Her well-groomed face contorted with frustration.
“Dont you get it? Im sleeping with your husband. Im expecting his baby. He doesnt love you anymore, he loves me!”
I tried not to let my boredom show. I felt a real pang of sympathy for this young womanso young, so full of romantic folly. Life, of course, would soon strip away those illusions, especially from those who set out to win a wealthy husband for themselves.
“My dear girl, youre the fourth woman to visit me with this story. The first didnt even bother to bring a certificate; the second and third had forgeries And there was one who was truly pregnant, but the paternity test was quite unequivocal. Weve always done right by them, my husband and I, but that doesnt mean well tolerate deceitnot even my husband, who is the softest-hearted man.”
She looked almost lost, but I pressed on:
“As for you sharing a bed with my husbandwell, be assured he still shares mine, as well as those of other hopeful young ladies. I would never begrudge my beloved his little indulgences; as far as I can see, it does neither me nor our children any harm. Leave your number with my secretary. Tomorrow, Ill arrange for the test, and theyll ring you with the details.”
Her composure crumbled, and she fled my office. I reached for a cigarette.
Id been expecting a visit like this for some time, since Id learned of my husbands new fancy. As with those before, this encounter was difficult, but necessary. A younger, less wise version of myself might have made a scene, played the jealous wife, and let my wealthy, sought-after husband walk away.
Once, years ago, I was the one whod come to his first wife in much the same way, announcing I was carrying his child. She made a great spectacle of it; he detested scenes and tears. He married me in the end, and I made sure by bearing him two more children.
Deep down, I always knew a man who strayed for me wouldnt be true to me, either. Doubtless, there would be more young hopefuls. But I will not repeat his first wifes mistakeI will not allow another woman to take my place so easily.
I will endure.
I will prevail.
