Chapter 4

A week passed quickly.

The party to welcome Noah into the family was a lavish affair. Almost every big name in our social circle showed up.

Jessica looped her arm through mine and muttered a low warning in my ear. "You've had plenty of time to think this through. Don't cause any trouble today."

I didn't answer. I didn't even look at her.

Then the five-year-old boy came up and took my hand. Right in front of all the guests, he called me "Dad."

That's when I finally spoke.

"I'm not your father. And I will not accept you as my son."

The room erupted.

Guests exchanged glances, and suddenly, the unspoken clicked into place. The looks people gave Jessica were full of mockery.

Her face flushed, then went pale. Humiliated, she grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing?"

"If you don't accept Noah today, I will go to the hospital right now."

Her tone was absolute. I couldn't believe it. A mother, saying something like that. She knew better than anyone how hard this pregnancy had been—all those bitter herbal drinks, all those shots to keep the baby from miscarrying. And now, for the sake of a child born out of wedlock, she was ready to throw it away.

"I'm not raising another man's son."

Across the room, Ryan put on a wounded face.

And then, out of nowhere, the screens around the hall flickered to life.

Graphic photos of Jessica and Ryan in bed together started scrolling across every display.

The timestamps on the photos were from five years ago.

Chaos erupted.

Jessica froze, staring at the screens.

Ryan immediately pointed a finger at me, his face turning red. "Michael! I know you have a problem with me, but how could you put pictures like that up in front of all these people?!

"Fine! Yes, I was wrong five years ago. Jessica got drunk and mistook me for you. But what does that have to do with anything now? No matter how angry you are, you can't deny that Noah is Jessica's biological son."

His little speech made everything crystal clear to everyone in the room.

"Ohhh, so the kid's a bastard. That explains a lot."

"Well, this certainly is entertainment."

Muffled laughter rippled through the crowd.

Jessica scrambled to have the screens turned off. Then she drew back her hand and slapped me across the face.

The taste of blood filled my mouth. I felt dazed.

I looked up and met Jessica's eyes—full of pure hatred. Her chest was heaving with rage. She clutched her cramping stomach, her face twisted in pain.

Linda immediately called an ambulance.

By the time they got Jessica to the hospital, she was ghostly pale.

The doctor was about to give her medication to stop the contractions and save the pregnancy. That's when Jessica spoke.

"Help me get an abortion. I don't want this baby anymore."

My head went blank.

"I didn't put those photos up!"

Jessica gave a cold, tight smile. "It doesn't matter if you did or not, Michael. I just want you to learn a lesson. I want you to never dare to hurt them again."

I thought about the baby. Our daughter. I lowered my head and begged. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have done that. The baby is innocent. That's a life…"

But no amount of begging made a difference.

Jessica went into the operating room. They induced the labor. The baby was born dead.

My daughter never even got to open her eyes and see the world.

I covered my face and laughed and cried at the same time. I tucked the signed divorce papers into Jessica's bag.

Then I left the hospital, carrying my dead daughter in my arms.

Five years ago, looking back was what put me in this hell. This time, I wasn't going to look back again.