A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 169

Eleanor desperately wanted her son to finally start his real life. He was in his thirties; his marriage prospects couldn't be delayed any longer.

At that moment, Shelly reached into her designer bag, pulled out a slender box, and popped it open to reveal a white plastic stick.

"I'm pregnant," she announced, thrusting the stick forward.

She held it up right in front of Quentin's face, then slowly panned it so Albert and Eleanor got a clear view.

Quentin's heart completely stopped.

He snatched it out of her hand, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose as all four of them stared at it.

Two bold red lines.

"That's impossible!" he roared, completely losing his composure.

Shelly's lip trembled, tears instantly welling in her eyes. "You heartless jerk! I'm carrying your baby, I'm going to give you a beautiful, healthy child, and this is how you treat me?!"

Before Quentin could say another word, Eleanor grabbed Shelly's wrist and hauled her inside the house.

"Mom!!" Quentin shouted, feeling like he was losing his mind.

He had just made his choice! He was going to marry Winifred! He was going to build a massive business empire with her and live a life of success and respect! What the hell was he supposed to do with this disaster?

Eleanor shot him a withering glare. "Keep your voice down! Do you want the whole neighborhood to hear?"

Acting completely on her newfound "value" as the mother of the heir, Shelly comfortably seated herself in the center of the main sofa.

Eleanor began silently evaluating the girl again. The dress she was wearing was high-quality silk—definitely from a luxury boutique. She was carrying a real Louis Vuitton bag, wearing diamond stud earrings, a glittering necklace, and a flawless jade bangle on her wrist.

This was clearly a girl from a wealthy background, raised in privilege.

"Sweetheart, what exactly do your parents do for a living?" Eleanor asked warmly, immediately pouring her a cup of hot tea.

Her parents ran a produce stall at Warner Market and had done so for thirty years.

But Shelly wasn't about to admit that. Quentin was a doctor, lived in a mansion, and owned a clinic. He was a highly successful man. Social status was everything to families like this.

"My parents are retired, but they did very well for themselves," Shelly lied smoothly. "Actually, just the other day, Quentin and I were discussing having them take out a mortgage on their property to help fund his new business venture."

Shelly had officially passed the test with Quentin's parents. They were thrilled with her.

But Quentin was glaring at her with absolute fury. "You. Come with me."

He stormed upstairs and threw open the door to his study. Once Shelly was inside, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and whirled on her.

"How the hell did you get pregnant?" he demanded.

He was a medical professional. He knew exactly how reproduction worked, and he had worn a condom every single time they had been intimate. Every. Single. Time.

Shelly scoffed. *Poking a hole with a needle isn't exactly rocket science.*

The moment she had sensed Quentin's physical infatuation with her starting to cool, she had taken immediate action. Men might eventually get bored of a woman's body, but they rarely walked away from their own unborn child.

In that moment, Shelly felt a wave of profound gratitude toward Iris Morgan.

When Quentin had dumped her at the birthday party, Shelly had immediately called Iris in a panic. Iris, the woman who had managed to conquer a billionaire like Holden Lockwood, clearly understood how to manipulate men. It was her brilliant strategy that had just successfully installed Shelly as the new lady of the Adams household.