God granted my wish for a child in the fifth year of my marriage to Archie Knight, a renowned hotelier and owner of The Royal Oak Hotel Group. I thought it was a blessing—a long-awaited happiness finally within my grasp. But none of it mattered when I discovered the truth. My husband never wanted a child with me.
I awoke in a hospital bed, my body weak, a sharp pain stabbing through my abdomen. Instinctively, my hand reached for my stomach—only to find it empty.
My child… gone.
A fall in the bathroom. Blood. Darkness.
I struggled to remember, but something held me back. And then, from beyond the hospital door, I heard a voice. A voice I knew all too well.
"Wendy doesn’t need to know. Let her believe the miscarriage was her own carelessness."
The breath caught in my throat. It was Archie.
"You’re fucking insane!" That was Dr Dallas, my obstetrician—Archie’s best friend. "She’ll despise you when she finds out the vitamins she trusted to protect her pregnancy killed her child. And you—" his voice wavered with disgust "—you are the one responsible."
My body turned to ice. Vitamins?
I remembered how Archie had always been so insistent that I take them. He claimed they would keep me strong, ensure a healthy pregnancy. And I had trusted him. Every dose, every pill—I had taken them diligently, never questioning.
But every time, my stomach had burned. A slow, creeping heat, a sensation I had dismissed as normal. Until that night.
The night I collapsed in the shower, blood pooling at my feet. The night it all ended.
Archie had planned it from the start.
I wanted to storm through that door, to demand the truth, to scream at him. But his next words shattered me completely.
"Claire has just given birth," he said, his tone composed, almost gentle. "I’ll convince Wendy to adopt our baby. By then, my son with Claire will be part of our family."
My body froze. Claire.
My cousin.
His ex-girlfriend.
My mind reeled back to our wedding day, five years ago. Archie was never meant to marry me. He was meant to marry Claire. But she had disappeared just before the ceremony, and at Grandfather James’ insistence, I had taken her place.
And now she had returned—bringing Archie’s child with her.
"I married her because of Grandfather’s will," Archie continued, his voice devoid of warmth. "I thought I loved her. But not anymore—not after what she did."
My breath hitched.
So that was all I had ever been? A stand-in? A convenient replacement for the woman he truly wanted?
I had believed him. I had loved him. I had dreamed of building a family together.
I clenched my fists beneath the sheets, blinking back tears.
He thought he had won.
I would let him believe that. For now.
The door opened, and Archie stepped inside, his face a mask of concern, his expression carefully crafted.
"Wendy, you’re awake." He rushed to me, wrapping me in an embrace, pressing kisses to my face as if I meant something to him. As if I mattered.
I did not respond.
He had never cared for me—not truly.
But I would make him pay.
Three days passed before I was discharged from the hospital. I stood at the entrance, staring at the empty driveway. Archie had not come to collect me.
Instead, he had sent his assistant.
"Come, Mrs Knight." Caleb, the man who had long been tasked with handling my affairs while Archie busied himself with his empire, gestured towards the waiting car.
I swallowed my disappointment—an emotion I had grown far too accustomed to. Without a word, I stepped into the vehicle. Caleb shut the door behind me, and the journey home began in silence.
To distract myself, I reached for my phone. A notification appeared. A post on social media.
I tapped it open— and my world crumbled all over again.
A photograph.
Archie and Claire.
They stood side by side in front of a maternity hospital. She was smiling—radiant, joyful. Archie, though turned slightly away from the camera, was unmistakable. He held a newborn wrapped in white, his posture protective.
The caption beneath the image twisted the knife deeper.
[Welcome, our little son. The most beautiful gift of our lives.]
My hands trembled.
Archie wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
I had been clinging to a sliver of hope that somewhere, buried beneath all the cruelty, he still cared for me.
But I had been wrong.
Foolishly, painfully wrong.
I curled my fingers into fists. No more tears.
Not for the man who had destroyed me.
