Bride of Retribution

On the day I miscarried and suffered from haemorrhage, my husband posted a photo of a newborn’s tiny feet on his Instagram Story.

The caption read: “Welcome, little angel. Daddy will always protect you.”

With trembling hands, I called him. “The baby’s gone. Can you come to the hospital?”

On the other end, I heard a baby crying, followed by the man’s impatient voice.

“In that case, take good care of yourself. Louise just gave birth and needs someone to care for her. I can’t leave.

“Besides, the dead shouldn’t compete with the living for affection. Got it?”

He hung up right after.

I broke down alone on the hospital bed, and when I finally wiped away my tears, I dialed the number of his sworn enemy, Levi Snow.

“Marry me, and the entire Wright Corporation will be my dowry. All I want is for you to bring Finn Yeaton down. Do we have a deal?”

The man on the other end of the line was silent for a long moment before he spoke.

“Annalise Wright, the heir of the Snow family is only allowed to be widowed, never divorced.

“If you choose to marry me, there will be no room for regret.”

I lowered my eyes. “Mm, I won’t regret it.”

Levi Snow and I were childhood friends. We were betrothed by our families when we were young, and we had always gotten along well.

That was until I met Finn Yeaton and fell in love with him. I then gradually grew distant from Levi.

Levi stayed silent for a while, then spoke again in his deep voice.

“I’ll give you a month to wrap up things with your ex. After that, we’ll get married.”

When the call ended, I clutched my phone, unable to calm my thoughts.

I had to be hospitalized because of a premature placental abruption.

Levi never visited, but he arranged a caretaker for me and even hired a lawyer to draft the divorce papers, ensuring I received the greatest possible share of the assets.

He had spent half a month doing these for me.

In all that time, my husband, Finn, didn’t make a single phone call to me.

He wasn’t busy, alright. This whole time, he had been posting baby photos on Instagram Story, showing the newborn’s wrinkled little face, tiny hands, and tiny feet…

The captions were all about “how Daddy would protect you.”

I bit down hard on my lower lip, and my hands were trembling so badly I could barely hold my phone.

My child slipped away silently, so fast that it never had the chance to be part of the world, and before I’d even had time to grieve.

Yet my child’s father was cradling another baby in his arms, flaunting it like a treasure to the whole world.

Two nurses entered the room, and they chatted with envy while they changed my dressing.

“Did you see that? When I was changing that new mother’s dressing, the aloof Mr. Yeaton was trembling as he held the baby. He kept telling us to be gentle, saying that his wife was afraid of pain.”

“She’s in a luxury suite, cared for by top doctors, given the best medicine, and watched over constantly by her husband—how could childbirth possibly be painful? He’s overthinking it.”

It turned out that they were in the same hospital, and on the very same floor.

Yet he wouldn’t even come to see me, not even once.

I shut my eyes tightly, hiding the sorrow in them.

Not long after, my phone rang.

It was a call from Finn.

I picked up, only to hear his indifferent tone.

“It’s just a miscarriage. Why are you staying in the hospital for so long?”

While looking at the nurse who was helping me change my dressing, I spoke calmly.

“Finn, let’s get a divorce. I’ve gotten the papers ready. You just need to sign them.”

There was silence on the other end before I heard him chuckle indifferently.

“Annalise, Louise had just given birth. She needs me more than you do right now, that’s why I didn’t come to see you.”

“Besides, I’ve told you, what happened with her was just an accident. You’re still my wife. My child can be yours, too. As for divorce, take those words back. I’ll pretend I’ve never heard them.”

He spoke matter-of-factly, completely disregarding my feelings.

The grievances I had held back for half a month could no longer be contained, and tears streamed down my face.