A One-Way Ticket to Hell

My heart sank when the private detective sent me photos of Jack Ingleton with his arm casually draped over Rhea Carhill's shoulder. He was smiling in the photo.

Rhea, my trusted right-hand woman, had been reassigned to work as Jack's secretary shortly after he joined my company.

Before seeing those photos, I had clung to a sliver of hope, desperately wishing my suspicions were wrong.

Then, my phone buzzed with another notification—a second blow from the private detective. My hands trembled as I read the message.

Rhea was pregnant.

How could she get knocked up?

My emotions boiled over as memories of my past with Jack surged forward. Two years into our relationship, I got pregnant with his child.

However, instead of joy, Jack was upset. He claimed that a baby would steal my attention away from him, and he coaxed me to terminate the pregnancy.

Sadly, that was just the first of many abortions to come. A year later, I got pregnant again, and he persuaded me to terminate it with the same excuse.

The doctor I consulted warned me that I had a thinner-than-average uterus wall. Two abortions in one year would bring adverse effects on my health. He advised me to have some protection if I didn't want to get pregnant.

Since then, I insisted Jack use protection every time. It worked—we avoided any more unwanted pregnancies.

However, Jack's parents started to worry after we were childless for eight years, but Jack was too much of a coward to tell them that he didn't plan to have kids. My in-laws thought that I was infertile and criticized me, treating me worse as time passed.

Every time I was driven to the brink of tears, Jack would tell me to suck it up.

Once, his mother, Jean Nadeau, quietly sneaked into our villa and tampered with all our sheaths, leading to yet another unplanned pregnancy.

I could still remember what the doctor had said to me. He warned me not to get an abortion or risk becoming infertile.

Since I wanted to be a mother, I refused to undergo an abortion and conveyed the doctor's opinion to Jack. He fell silent upon learning the truth.

I wanted to keep the baby, but Jack said he wasn't ready to be a father. He refused to let a child disrupt our lives and our marriage.

Stunned by his words, I couldn't fathom why he was so against having children. But we had enjoyed a good relationship, and I didn't want the topic of childrearing to become a source of conflict. In the end, I went to get an abortion at the hospital with Jack by my side.

The doctor's prognosis was bleak—I would struggle to get pregnant in the future. Jack hugged me afterward, saying it was his fault and promising he'd treat me better and that he'd never leave my side. But his words were hollow.

When my in-laws learned that I was infertile, they treated me even worse. Jack didn't speak up for me at all. He left me to weather the scorn of my in-laws.

One day, Jean exploded in anger after I accidentally broke a bowl. She stormed into the kitchen, shoving me in her fury. I slipped on the wet floor and fell hard, bleeding heavily between my legs.

That day, I lost the last baby I would ever carry. I had lost any hope of ever becoming a mother.

How dare Jack turn around and knock up another woman after what he had put me through?

I clutched my phone and glared at the photos, vowing to make Jack Ingleton pay the price.