Unaware his Pregnant Wife is now Married to a Billionaire, He Splashes Mud water on While Mistress..

Unaware she just married a billionaire’s son who controls his entire empire, Emma felt the cold mud hit her pregnant stomach before she saw his face. That same face that once whispered, “I love you,” in a hospital room where their daughter died in her arms. That same face that turned away when she screamed for him to hold their baby just once.

That same face now laughing as filthy water soaked through her clothes, freezing against the belly where a miracle she was told would never happen was growing. Richard leaned out, his face twisted with disgust. Still living like the poor barren failure I left behind. Look at you, Emma. Shopping at Tesco like some desperate woman who couldn’t keep a man.

His eyes dropped to her stomach with pure contempt. And you actually found someone stupid enough to get you pregnant. We both know your useless body can’t carry a child. You’ll kill this one, too, just like you killed ours.” Emma’s hands shook as muddy water dripped down her face, mixing with tears she refused to let him see.

Her mind flashing back to the hospital room where she lost their daughter, while Richard chose a business meeting over holding her hand. To the divorce papers where he told everyone she was a cheater who destroyed their marriage. To the doctors who said the trauma had left her barren. But Richard Blackwell has no idea that the woman he just humiliated, the ex-wife he calls poor, barren, and worthless, is now Emma Sterling, married to Alexander Sterling, the billionaire’s son who controls the 12 billion empire that holds every contract keeping Richard’s

business alive. He has no idea that in 3 weeks when his father, Lawrence Sterling, announces on live television that Emma is pregnant with his heir, Richard won’t just lose his empire, he’ll be destroyed on national television, begging for forgiveness while the world watches. But here’s what will break your heart.
Why did Richard really splash mud on his ex-wife? What did Emma endure in that marriage that made her believe she deserved to be treated like trash? And how did the announcement that she’s pregnant with a billionaire’s heir leave Richard so completely destroyed he lost everything in 72 hours? What happens next will prove that karma doesn’t just come for cruel men.
It arrives in a billionaire’s limousine with receipts and the revenge is so perfectly calculated it will leave you speechless. 6 years ago, Emma made a choice that would cost her everything she thought love was supposed to be. She was 22, standing in a registry office wearing a simple white dress her mother had sewn by hand, watching Richard Blackwell slide a gold ring onto her finger.

He was 28, confident, magnetic, the kind of man who made you feel like the only person in the room. You’re mine now, he whispered against her ear, and Emma thought it sounded romantic. She didn’t know yet that he meant it, like ownership. Richard was building something, an empire, he called it. Blackwell estates, luxury properties across London, shopping centers, office buildings, apartments that cost more than most people made in a lifetime.

And Emma was proud of him. She taught year 2 students at a primary school in Hackne, made £32,000 a year, came home every evening to a man who was becoming a king. The first year was beautiful. Richard bought her things she never asked for. designer dresses, expensive perfume, jewelry that felt too heavy on her skin…

But gifts were Richard’s favorite weapon.

By year two, Emma learned that every necklace came with a demand.
Every perfume bottle came with a rule.
Every dress came with a reminder:

“I made you. Without me, you’re nothing.”

And Emma—who grew up believing love meant sacrifice—believed him.

She stopped seeing friends.
Stopped wearing the clothes she liked.
Stopped applying for her master’s degree because Richard said, “No wife of mine needs a job that distracts her.”

Then came the pregnancy.

Emma had never seen Richard so soft.
He kissed her belly every night.
He talked about names.
He told her she was finally “proving herself useful.”

She ignored that part. Love forgives, she told herself.

Until the night she went into labor.

Until she screamed in agony, begging him to drive faster.
Until he said, “Don’t be dramatic, Emma—my meeting tonight is important.”
Until she delivered their daughter silently, lifeless, while staring at the empty doorway where her husband should have stood.

Richard held her for less than ten seconds.
Then he left the hospital and went to his meeting.

He never once visited the tiny white coffin.

And a month later, when Emma couldn’t stop crying, when she woke up screaming from nightmares, when she blamed herself for a death she didn’t cause, he handed her a single sheet of paper:

Divorce Agreement.

He told everyone she was cheating.
Told his parents she was unstable.
Told the world she “killed their child.”

Emma left their home with a suitcase, a box of baby clothes she couldn’t bear to touch, and medical papers that said she might never carry again.

It took her four years to heal.
Four years to rediscover her worth.
Four years before she met Alexander Sterling.

He didn’t save her.
He didn’t fix her.

He simply stood beside her while she rebuilt herself.

And when she told him she might never have children, he kissed her forehead and said,
“Family is who we choose, not what your body can or can’t do.”

Emma fell in love without even trying.

When she miraculously became pregnant, Alexander cried harder than she did.
He dropped to his knees, kissed her stomach, and said,
“This child will never know an ounce of the pain you did.”

Emma Sterling finally had a future worth protecting.

Which is why the mud didn’t hurt her.

What hurt was seeing the man who once promised her forever, the man she begged to love their daughter, the man she once believed in—laugh as if she was garbage under his tires.

But Richard Blackwell had no idea what he had just done.

Because when he splashed mud on Emma’s pregnant belly, when he mocked her body, when he laughed at her pain…

He did it in front of four witnesses.

One of whom secretly recorded everything.

And one of whom recognized Emma—not as Richard’s ex-wife, but as the future mother of the Sterling heir.

Within 24 hours, that video was sitting on the desk of Lawrence Sterling himself.

Within 48 hours, Sterling Holdings pulled every contract from Blackwell Estates.

Within 72 hours, Richard’s investors vanished.
His properties froze.
His accounts were audited.
His assets were seized.
His father fired him.
His mistress left him.
His penthouse locks were changed.

And Emma?

Emma didn’t speak a word during the downfall.

She didn’t need to.

Karma was speaking loudly enough.

But the world didn’t know the most brutal part—
Richard’s collapse was not punishment.
It was preparation.

Because three weeks later, during the live televised charity gala, Emma appeared beside Alexander Sterling, her baby bump visible under a pearl gown.

The cameras zoomed in.
The crowd gasped.
And Lawrence Sterling smiled into the microphone:

“My daughter-in-law, Emma Sterling, is carrying the future heir of the Sterling empire.”

Richard watched the announcement in a cheap hotel room he could barely afford.

He didn’t cry when he lost his company.
Didn’t cry when he lost his money.
Didn’t cry when investors called him a thief and a failure.

But when he saw Emma—glowing, loved, protected, finally happy—
he broke.

Truly broke.

Because for the first time, he understood:

Emma was never the one who wasn’t good enough.

He was.