The Night I Got Pregnant, My Husband Asked Me to Post Bail for His Mistress

I was his girlfriend of three years, about to tell him I was pregnant—until I got a call from the precinct to bail him out… along with his “little sister.”

A fresh hickey on his neck, my cashmere coat wrapped around her shoulders, she sniffled on the plastic bench.

After signing the papers, he tried to take my car and demanded I give up the passenger seat for his “traumatized” girl.

He yanked me out of the driver’s seat. I hit the cold, wet asphalt. Their taillights vanished into the rain.

I picked my keys out of the mud and called the brother I never asked for help. Time he learned some debts can’t be paid.

……

I'm Sienna Reed, Jordan Sterling's girlfriend of three years, and in his eyes, that "pretty lucky" quiet companion.

I'd planned to tell him tonight that I was pregnant, still clutching that little test stick in my hand. But at nine PM, the call I got wasn't from him—it was from the downtown precinct, asking me to come bail him out.

He and his "sister" Chloe Bennett had been detained in a hotel room for disturbing the peace.

When I pushed through the heavy glass door of the police station, the first thing I saw was Chloe huddled on a plastic bench, wearing my white limited-edition cashmere coat.

Jordan stood in front of her, his back to me, shirt collar open, a clear, reddened hickey on the back of his neck.

"You're finally here." Jordan turned at the sound of footsteps, his tone carrying not a hint of embarrassment or apology, only impatience. "What took you so long? Chloe's terrified."

I looked at Chloe. She buried her face in my coat, shoulders trembling slightly, but in that instant I caught her peeking at me from the edge of the fabric. There was no fear in those eyes—only a flash of smugness.

"Where do I sign?" I heard my own voice, unnaturally steady, without inflection.

"You're not going to ask anything?" Jordan frowned, as if my composure annoyed him more than his arrest.

"Ask what?"

I looked at him, my gaze sweeping over his open collar.

"Ask why you were in a hotel room with her? Ask what that mark on your neck is? Or ask why she's wearing my coat?"

"Jordan, the evidence is right in front of me. I don't want to hear you make up stories."

His face darkened, a flash of embarrassment quickly replaced by irritation.

"It's not what you think! Chloe's apartment lock broke, she was scared to be alone, I was just keeping her company! We were just watching TV, then the hotel management started hassling us... as for this," he touched his neck, his tone becoming dismissive, "probably an allergic reaction. You know I have sensitive skin."

"Oh." I replied with just that one word. It fell like ice hitting the ground.

I walked straight to the duty officer, signed the papers, paid the bail.

I could feel Jordan's gaze drilling into my back, filled with incredulous anger. He was probably used to me crying, making a scene, demanding answers.

After finishing the paperwork, the three of us walked out of the station. Chloe immediately pulled the coat tighter, sobbing softly.

"I'm so cold, Jordan." Her voice was thin.

Our car was parked right outside. I pulled out the keys and unlocked it.

"Sienna," Jordan spoke, using that non-negotiable tone, "you sit in back. I'll drive. Chloe's shaken up, she needs to sit up front where there's more space."

My hand froze on the door handle. I turned to look at him.

"This is my car, Jordan. I'm your girlfriend. I just got you out of the police station." I said each word deliberately. "Now you want to drive my car, and you want me to give up the passenger seat to a 'sister' who's wearing my coat and probably just kissed you?"

"Can't you have a little compassion?" Jordan's voice shot up sharply, jarring in the empty parking lot. "Do you know what she's been through? She just spent two hours at the police station! She needs care!"

"Where were you when I needed care?" The words almost burst out, but I swallowed them back.

There was no point in arguing. I looked at that self-righteous expression on his face, at Chloe's hand quietly tugging his sleeve, and suddenly felt utterly exhausted, yet utterly clear-headed.

"No." I said calmly, settling into the driver's seat. "Either she sits in back, or you two figure out your own way home."

I buckled my seatbelt and started the engine.

Through the window, I saw Jordan's face turn livid.

He yanked open the passenger door, leaned in and unbuckled my seatbelt, then roughly pulled me out with force. I stumbled out of the car, hands hitting the cold, damp pavement.

"Since you're so unwilling," Jordan's voice came from above me, ice-cold, "you can figure out your own way home."

He didn't even look at me, helping Chloe into the passenger seat, then getting into the driver's seat himself.

The door slammed shut, cutting off all my sight lines. The engine roared, and my car, carrying my boyfriend and his so-called sister, sped into the night, taillights quickly disappearing.

Cold drizzle began to fall, hitting my face. I slowly stood up from the ground, palms scraped and throbbing faintly.

But this pain was nothing compared to the completely dead wasteland inside my heart.

I stood in the empty parking lot as rain gradually soaked my hair and shoulders.

That night I'd planned to announce my pregnancy, that bag with the pregnancy test hidden inside—it all seemed like an absurd mockery now.

I looked down and picked up my car keys from the puddle—he'd knocked them from my hand when he pulled me out. I gripped them tight, the metal edges digging into my palm.

Then I took out my phone and dialed a number I'd never called in an emergency.

After two rings, it was answered, a steady male voice on the other end: "Sienna?"

"Carter," I said my half-brother's name, my voice unusually clear in the rain. "I need to meet. Now."

It was time to end all of this.