When the debt collectors attacked, I pushed in front of Clara and took the blows. Three ribs broken, internal injuries that nearly killed me. When the doctor said my fertility might be damaged, she wept, hugged me, and promised to stay.
I refused to give up. Once the company stabilized, I began treatment, steady and relentless. Three years later, the doctor said I’d made progress. Clara and I tried for a child. When she told me she was carrying twins, I stayed awake all night, holding her, tears on my face.
Now, staring at Clara’s determined eyes, my gaze dropped to her belly. The joy I’d felt became a raw ache. My voice broke. “Clara, that’s the child I’ve waited ten years for. How can you end them?”
A flicker of guilt crossed her face. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m doing this for Felix. I don’t want him to carry regret.”
“You said my sperm quality is poor,” I said. “You said the baby might be born with defects.”
“Felix is young and healthy,” she said. “If he fathers the child, the child will have a better future—better genes.”
I smiled without humor. “So in your mind I’m broken, and any child of mine would be broken too.”
“If it were only about having a child, we could have used a surrogate,” I said. “Why abort ours? Or are you deliberately making me a cuckold?”
Her face flushed. “ Ethan, how can you say that? Felix’s child deserves a chance.” She added, strained, “We did it for the child. I was thinking of you then.”
Relatives and friends shifted uneasily. One person rose, murmured condolences, and left; others followed.
“ Ethan,” someone said, “I know you’re hurting. But this is for the future. Only the best heir can secure the Lynn Group. Think about it.”
They closed the door. I sank onto the sofa, the shock washing over me.
A friend texted: Clara had been admitted. Felix stayed by her side during the procedure and fed her soup afterward. In the photo, she leaned into him, pale but comforted. The abortion consent form in the message hit me like cold metal.
I had endured beatings and rumors, yet I could not protect the life we had waited a decade for. Defeated, I made a call. “Mr. James, I’ll take your offer to develop your overseas market. I won’t return.”
I packed a bag, printed divorce papers, and went to the hospital. Felix lay on his side, holding Clara in his arms. Their smiles died when they saw me. I did not shout. I calmly placed the papers before her.
“Sign them.”
Her hands shook. Tears welled. “ Ethan…you want a divorce?”
Anger flared. “We’ve suffered ten years together. Is that nothing to you? Can’t you understand me?”
She tore the papers and flung the pieces at me. I watched as she sobbed and curled into Felix’s embrace.
Without warning, Felix lunged and struck me hard. Pain exploded across my face. He straddled me, pulled my hair, and rained blows. Blood filled my mouth. Everything spun.
In pain I grabbed a stool and hit him. He cried out and fell. I scrambled up and kicked him. A lunchbox smashed into my head. Dizziness blurred everything.
Clara’s voice cut through: “ Ethan, how could you? You hit Felix with a chair!” She rushed to him, cradled his head, and left for the clinic with him, not looking back.
I lay on the floor, aching and numb, staring at the ceiling as our lives scattered like torn paper.
