Chapter 3

“You’re terminating the pregnancy?”

The doctor froze mid-exam, looking at me in disbelief.

Outside the room, Ethan stood by the window, scrolling through his phone, a soft, tender smile spreading across his face. That smile—so familiar, yet so foreign—made my chest ache and my stomach churn.

“Yes,” I said firmly, breaking my gaze away and turning back to the doctor.

“You’re sure? Does your husband know?” she asked cautiously. “I’ve seen him come with you to every appointment. He seems so excited about this baby, even with how busy he must be. Running a company like his can’t be easy.”

Ethan Carter—self-made billionaire, founder of a multi-million-dollar tech company at just 30 years old. His face was a regular feature on business channels, and even the doctor had heard of him.

He had his share of admirers, women who swooned over his looks, wealth, and the fact that he was madly in love with his wife.

“This is my decision,” I said, my tone unyielding. “Please don’t tell him.”

The doctor sighed, hesitant, before launching into a string of reasons why I should reconsider. I didn’t hear a word of it.

A failed marriage. A child born into a loveless home. Why bring someone into the world only to suffer? Better to give them a chance with a different set of parents.

It was Ethan’s day off, and he’d woken up early, thinking I was still asleep.

He tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. But pregnancy had made me a light sleeper, and I lay there, staring at the ceiling as the faint light of dawn crept in.

I could hear him tinkering in the kitchen for nearly half an hour.

When he finally came back into the bedroom, I quickly shut my eyes.

“Time to get up, sleepyhead,” he whispered as he gently pinched my cheek.

I opened my eyes to see him standing there, wearing an apron and grinning like he’d just conquered the world.

Ethan had started taking cooking classes after I got pregnant—something about making sure I ate well. Since marrying him, I hadn’t stepped foot in the kitchen. He even left work early every day just to cook dinner for me, much to the delight of his employees, who joked that their boss was a “top-tier wife guy.”

“Your husband’s cooking hasn’t gotten rusty, has it? I made all your favorites,” he said proudly, gesturing to the table.

But before I could even respond, his phone buzzed on the counter.

He grabbed it quickly, but not quickly enough. I saw the name flash across the screen: Emma.

Ethan’s cheerful demeanor shifted in an instant. He answered the call, his voice calm but serious. “I understand. I’ll be there soon.”

Hanging up, he turned to me with an apologetic expression.

“Something urgent came up at work. I’m really sorry, but I have to go. Please make sure you eat breakfast, okay? Take a short walk after—it’s good for you and the baby. I probably won’t make it back for lunch, but I’ll have a meal delivered for you. Call me if you need anything. Oh, and don’t forget, we have the high school reunion tonight. I’ll come home to pick you up.”

Ah, the reunion. I’d almost forgotten.

Before leaving, Ethan walked over to me, smoothing the crease between my brows with his thumb. He kissed my forehead softly, whispering, “Don’t be upset, alright?”

You see, his performance was flawless. Not a single crack showed as he smoothed his words over me like silk. Even as he prepared to run into another woman’s arms, he didn’t falter.

The door closed behind him, and the sound of it felt like a cue for my tears to fall.

I stared at the breakfast he’d made, the food now tasteless in my mouth. My stomach turned, and I scraped it all into the trash.

When something no longer tastes good, you throw it away. Forcing it down only makes you sick. People are no different.

That evening, Ethan came home to pick me up for the reunion.

He knelt down in front of me to help me put on my socks and shoes, as he always did. From this angle, I could see the collar of his shirt—and the faint marks peeking out from underneath.

Those weren’t there this morning.

Ethan didn’t open the front passenger door for me like usual. Instead, he guided me to the backseat.

That’s when I saw her.

Emma was sitting in the passenger seat, her lips curling into a polite, almost saccharine smile as I hesitated.

Ethan cleared his throat awkwardly. “Emma’s going to the reunion too. I figured it made sense for the three of us to go together.”

“She gets carsick,” he added, almost too quickly. “The front seat is better for her.”

Emma turned toward me, her head tilting slightly, her voice soft and sweet as honey. “You don’t mind, do you, Jane? You’re so far along now—it’s probably more comfortable for you to sit in the back anyway.”

The blue diamond necklace she wore caught the light, sparkling brightly.

It was identical to the one around my neck.

I said nothing, just nodded and climbed into the backseat.

As we drove, I listened to their laughter, their easy banter. My head began to pound, the ache growing worse with every mile.

I reached up and unclasped the necklace, slipping it into my purse.

I didn’t need it anymore.