I lost my balance and crashed to the floor with a heavy thud. My swollen belly made even the simple act of getting up nearly impossible—my movements were painfully slow, almost pathetic.
The room exploded with laughter at my expense.
“Max, doesn’t your wife look like a turtle stuck on its shell?”
“A fat turtle at that! Hahaha!”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. Humiliation flooded through me, but before I could even process it, a sharp, stabbing pain tore through my stomach.
Then I felt it—warm liquid spreading beneath me.
I looked down in horror.
The carpet was soaked.
No. This can’t be happening…
Panic gripped me as I desperately reached for Maxime.
“Maxime, please! Take me to the hospital—my water broke!”
The alcohol-induced haze in his eyes cleared for a moment. He shot up from his seat, a flicker of concern crossing his face.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll get you there right now.”
But before he could move, Lily’s mocking voice sliced through the tension.
“Honestly, I envy Mrs. Remington. No matter what ridiculous lie she tells, Max just eats it up.”
Maxime shoved Lily’s hands off his waist, his voice icy. “Back off. If anything happens to my wife, it’s on you.”
Lily flopped onto the couch with dramatic flair, unfazed. Her red silk-clad foot slid up his calf, teasing.
“Come on, Max. She just peed herself. Her water couldn’t have broken—she’s only seven months along. Her due date’s weeks away.”
The room erupted in murmurs of disgust.
“Pregnant women do have bladder issues. Guess that’s what this is.”
“She can’t even hold her pee? No wonder Max stepped out.”
Maxime, who had been reaching for me, froze. His panic melted into relief, then twisted into anger.
Without a word, he snatched a pillow and hurled it at me. “Disgusting. You’ll sink to any low just for attention, won’t you?”
“No, I’m serious—I’m in labor! The pain—!”
Maxime stared down at me writhing on the floor, his gaze cold, voice dripping with disdain.
“Cut the act. If Lily hadn’t snapped me out of it, I might’ve actually fallen for it.”
Lily beamed, throwing herself into his arms. “Mmm… that’s why I’m your smart, sweet secretary.”
My voice shook as another wave of pain hit.
“Please… help me… the baby—someone call an ambulance!”
Juan snorted. “Max, your wife’s willing to make a scene just for attention. What a waste of medical resources.”
Lily piled on. “Mrs. Remington, if word gets out that Maxime Remington’s wife wet herself in public, how do you think that’ll reflect on him? So selfish.”
The stench of cigarettes mixed with the ache in my chest.
I realized—with bitter clarity—that no one here would help me.
Gritting my teeth against the agony, I dragged myself toward my handbag. My phone was inside. If no one else would save me, I’d save myself.
Their laughter followed me, sharp and merciless.
“Max, your wife deserves an Oscar! That performance is gold.”
“Seriously, Max, go console her. How are we supposed to enjoy the party with her pissing everywhere?”
Sweat drenched me, my hair sticking to my forehead in damp strands.
Ignoring them, I finally grabbed my phone—
Only for Maxime to stomp on my hand and kick it away.
“Enough! Are you out of your mind? You really think it’s okay to waste the ambulance’s time on New Year’s Eve over this?”
