The headline screamed from the society page: CEO Michael Sterling' s Protégé, Chloe Davis, Flaunts Baby Bump. Five years of marriage, yearning for a child, shattered in an instant. Michael, my husband, promised it was a mistake, a drunken night he barely remembered. He knelt, he cried, he pleaded, and I, God help me, chose to believe him. He vanished Chloe Davis from our lives, and for three years, we were happy. Then came the news of a riot, Michael unreachable. I flew halfway across the world, frantic, only to find him in a quiet suburb, holding a child with his dark hair and blue eyes, another clinging to his leg. Standing beside him, heavily pregnant again, was Chloe Davis, looking at him with adoration as he smiled a truly happy smile I hadn' t seen in years. He saw me, his smile vanishing. On the silent ride back, he told me to accept them. His heirs. And since I couldn't give him a child, Chloe would come home, posing as a nanny. My hand instinctively went to my purse, clutching the pregnancy test I' d taken that morning-two pink lines, a miracle I' d been waiting to share. I snapped it in two; he didn' t even ask what it was. At the private terminal, Chloe, feigning terror, shrieked I was trying to harm her and her children. Without explanation, Michael slapped me hard. I stumbled, fell, and felt a warm wetness spread beneath me. Blood. "Michael," I choked, "the baby...our baby...please, help me." He sneered, "You' re pathetic, Olivia. There is no baby." He turned his back, leading his perfect family away, leaving me bleeding on the airport floor. In the hospital, he brought Chloe, ensuring she got the best care, accusing me of faking for attention. When I hemorrhaged, he panicked, but the final blow came when Chloe staged another fall, crying I' d hit her. Michael, already enraged, punched me in the stomach. An explosion of pain, and then, the last bit of warmth left my body. My baby was gone. He had killed it. But what about all the years I' d sacrificed for him, including my first child and my mother?
The headline screamed from the society page: CEO Michael Sterling' s Protégé, Chloe Davis, Flaunts Baby Bump. Five years of marriage, yearning for a child, shattered in an instant. Michael, my husband, promised it was a mistake, a drunken night he barely remembered. He knelt, he cried, he pleaded, and I, God help me, chose to believe him. He vanished Chloe Davis from our lives, and for three years, we were happy.
Then came the news of a riot, Michael unreachable. I flew halfway across the world, frantic, only to find him in a quiet suburb, holding a child with his dark hair and blue eyes, another clinging to his leg. Standing beside him, heavily pregnant again, was Chloe Davis, looking at him with adoration as he smiled a truly happy smile I hadn' t seen in years.
He saw me, his smile vanishing. On the silent ride back, he told me to accept them. His heirs. And since I couldn't give him a child, Chloe would come home, posing as a nanny. My hand instinctively went to my purse, clutching the pregnancy test I' d taken that morning-two pink lines, a miracle I' d been waiting to share. I snapped it in two; he didn' t even ask what it was.
At the private terminal, Chloe, feigning terror, shrieked I was trying to harm her and her children. Without explanation, Michael slapped me hard. I stumbled, fell, and felt a warm wetness spread beneath me. Blood. "Michael," I choked, "the baby...our baby...please, help me." He sneered, "You' re pathetic, Olivia. There is no baby." He turned his back, leading his perfect family away, leaving me bleeding on the airport floor.
In the hospital, he brought Chloe, ensuring she got the best care, accusing me of faking for attention. When I hemorrhaged, he panicked, but the final blow came when Chloe staged another fall, crying I' d hit her. Michael, already enraged, punched me in the stomach. An explosion of pain, and then, the last bit of warmth left my body. My baby was gone. He had killed it. But what about all the years I' d sacrificed for him, including my first child and my mother?
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