Richie had never been the type to show excitement, but when he talked about the news, he couldn’t stop clapping, grinning as he walked around the bed to the other side.
“In just seven days, it’s our wedding. That’s when I’ll announce this amazing news to everyone. These two happy events… they’re the best things that have ever happened in my life!”
Hearing his words, my heart suddenly skipped a beat. The doctor’s words from when Esther nearly drowned me in the pool came back to haunt me, crystal clear.
Ritchie had dragged me across the world, searching for a cure, but no matter where we went, we got the same answer.
I would never be able to get pregnant.
Because of that, his family’s resentment toward me only grew. Time after time, they’d throw dirty looks my way, making it painfully clear I didn’t belong. They hoped I’d give up and leave on my own.
Ritchie wouldn’t let it slide—not once. He stood up for me every single time, even if it meant butting heads with his family.
“Our family isn’t some royal family. We’re not passing down a crown. Portia choosing to stay by my side is the greatest blessing this family has ever had. If anyone dares bring this up again, you can either take your name off the family registry—or take mine off instead!”
Thinking about it now, I stared at my flat belly, feeling like something was stuck in my throat. I couldn’t wrap my head around how life could be this cruel, and before I knew it, tears started streaming down my face.
Why did this baby have to come now?
Ritchie walked over, pulling me into his arms. The smell of milk clung to him—sharp enough to make me nauseous.
I pushed him away on instinct, and my stomach churned violently. The nausea was unstoppable.
He stepped back quickly, cupping his hands in front of me like he could catch whatever I couldn’t hold down.
“Portia, if you’re feeling sick, just let it out. Morning sickness is normal during the first few weeks. I’ll stay here with you the whole time.”
I looked at him—at the worry etched into his face, the shoes and supplies he’d prepared, all waiting neatly on the side—and I was a little dazed for a while.
To him, I’d always been special. For five years, I’d been his one and only exception.
He’d loved me completely since day one. And I’d loved him just as much.
It didn’t take long for me to calm down. When I stared at the man in front of me, my expression was blank.
If he’d just cut ties with his other woman and their child, maybe we could start over—me, him, and our baby.
We could go back to the way things were, back to the way they’d been for the past five years.
But before I could say a word, his phone rang. His face shifted immediately—panic flashing across it as he scrambled to his feet and left.
He said he’d been disappearing a lot the past two days because of company issues.
He wasn’t even gone for 20 minutes when Esther sent me a photo so casually. It was of Ritchie carefully holding a child.
In the picture, he had his head pressed against the kid’s, gently coaxing him to sleep.
I gripped my phone so tightly it hurt, forcing myself not to cry, clinging to the last shred of dignity I had left. But no matter how hard I tried, the bitterness and heartache surged.
This stupid, foolish dream of mine…
It was shattered. Completely.
I don’t know how long it took, but when I finally pulled myself together, I opened the confirmation letter for the plane crash incident. Without a second thought, I signed it again.
I knew Ritchie too well. He wouldn’t agree to a divorce. He wouldn’t let me go, not willingly.
If anything, he’d double down—trap me here, chain me to him, and never let me escape.
After signing the letter, I booked an appointment at a private hospital back in my hometown for an abortion.
While I was calling to confirm the appointment, Esther started flooding my phone with videos—one after the other.
The videos showed a side of Ritchie I’d never seen before. He was like an animal—completely wild, nothing like the gentle, restrained man I thought I knew.
They were in every corner of his company and even at a villa...
