When my wife was three months pregnant, she knelt down before me and said she wanted to have an abortion—because the company was about to go bankrupt and she needed to study abroad for a year.
Through tears, I agreed, deciding to help her rebuild once she came back.
But a year later, she returned—with a baby in her arms.
When her friend heard the news, she praised her without hesitation.
“You transferred the company’s funds to run away with Eric overseas and you actually gave birth to his baby? Your husband’s such an idiot; he believes everything you say.”
My wife gave a faint, calm smile.
“Without a child, he can focus better—working hard for me and Eric. He was born to be a workhorse.”
I stood frozen at the office door, my whole body cold, but in the end, I left quietly.
Fine. If that’s how it was, then I had nothing left to hold on to.
——
“You really pulled it off, huh? Getting your husband to agree to an abortion?”
Abigail Fields’s tone dripped with mockery as she spoke to my wife.
Charlotte Evans, my wife, snorted. “What else could I do? I promised Eric I’d only have his child.”
“That’s smart!” Abigail chuckled, “You made your husband think the company was going bankrupt so he’d clean up the mess for you, while you used the money to buy Eric a big house overseas, play house with him—and even have his baby.”
“Without a child, he can focus better—working hard for me and Eric. He was born to be a workhorse. While Eric has suffered enough following me these past few years; I should at least compensate him. Not that pathetic loser,” Charlotte’s voice dripped with disdain.
I froze in place.
So it turned out — her claim that the company was going bankrupt was a lie.
She hadn’t wanted an abortion because she was depressed — she’d done it to make room for another man’s child.
The conversation in the office went on, but I could no longer make out the words.
My ears buzzed, drowning everything else out.
Suddenly, Charlotte’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and her expression softened instantly.
“What? You sprained your ankle? Okay! Don’t worry, I’ll be right there!”
She hung up, grabbed her coat from the chair and rushed out.
I instinctively stepped back into the fire exit at the end of the hallway, watching her hurried figure disappear around the corner.
My hand moved to my side, brushing over the wound that still ached faintly.
Just a month ago, I had been stabbed three times by one of her business rivals—for her and for the company. I spent a week hovering between life and death before barely making it back. Even now, I still had to go to the hospital for weekly dialysis just to stay alive.
Charlotte had always claimed she was trying to find a kidney donor for me, but to this day, there had been no progress.
It’s ridiculous now that I think about it.
It’s not that she couldn’t find a donor—she just didn’t really care to.
I took a cab to the hospital. She’d already scheduled today’s rehabilitation session for me and promised she’d come along.
But apparently, Eric had twisted his ankle this morning.
And without a second thought, she chose to be with him instead.
When I got to the treatment room, the nurse told me that the doctor originally assigned to me had been called away at the last minute. They’d arranged for a trainee doctor to take his place.
I nodded, but a heavy feeling settled in my chest.
Later, I found out that because Eric had twisted his ankle, Charlotte had called away every senior doctor in the hospital to treat him.
“I heard that patient’s name is Eric. Apparently, he’s pretty good-looking,” a nurse whispered.
“Miss Evans even dropped everything at the company just to stay with him,” another replied.
I felt like the biggest fool alive for believing every word she ever said.
The therapy was far more painful than I expected. I could feel the blood seeping out, soaking through the sheets—made it sticky.
