The Fake Wife's Billion-Dollar Revenge

Seven months pregnant, I took the cup of milk tea Philip Weiss handed me and drank a big mouthful without a second thought.

The scalding pepper water burned straight through my throat.

I doubled over coughing, and warmth I couldn't stop ran down between my legs.

The pale maternity dress soaked through fast, and drops fell onto the mall's tiled floor.

His little assistant, Althea Pruitt, came rushing out and draped herself all over Philip.

"See, I told you — pregnant women are loose down there. A few coughs and she can't hold it."