Se connecterMy boyfriend's childhood friend got knocked up. To save her rep, Quentin Palmer married her. When I asked what that meant for me—and our baby—he stayed ice-calm. "Rainee's not like you. I'm all she's got. She wouldn't survive the gossip." Like I had anyone else? Like I wasn't carrying his baby too? Later, while people laughed behind my back about the "fatherless" kid I was having, Quentin just stood there—next to Rainee, silent. That's when it hit me—love comes with a pecking order. So I ended the pregnancy. Gave up my baby... all so he could play the hero for her.
Voir plusThe next day, I applied for a new position in another city.Only transfer open? Overseas.Perfect. The farther, the better.By day three, the company fast-tracked my passport, and I was gone.***Five years flew by.I buried myself in work, tuned out the world.Every now and then, updates from home popped up—friends, clients—but I never listened too hard.Time dulled the pain. The memories blurred.Eventually, I worked my way up to president of our overseas branch.***Spring rolls around, and HQ called me in for a report.The moment I step into the office—bam. Quentin.And of course, we ended up in the same elevator. Just the two of us.He looked at me, steady, but his voice cracked a little."How've you been?"I didn't answer. Just nodded.We used to spend nights tangled up, spilling every thought like it mattered.Now? I didn't even wanna speak.Ding.The elevator stopped.I stepped out. He grabbed my wrist.His face gave nothing away— except for that hint of a
Because of the abortion, I had to stick around the hospital for a bit.Quentin started showing up like clockwork, always with some homemade pumpkin or chicken soup in hand.I didn't say a word. Just ignored him.He'd stand outside the room, quiet and drained, not moving for what felt like forever.When it was time for me to leave, it was drizzling.Figured he'd try to catch me, so I packed up before sunrise.But right as I stepped out, there he was—leaning against the gate.No clue how long he'd been standing there. He looked rough. Wind-tossed hair, rain-soaked coat.The second he saw me, he straightened up, eyes all nervous. "I'm here to take you home."I backed up without thinking.His eyes went glassy. He looked down, couldn't even face me.After a long pause, I said, flat as ever, "Don't. We're done. I've got legs—I'll get home on my own."Then I walked past him and planned to grab a cab.Quentin suddenly rushed over, dropped to his knees, and grabbed the edge of my c
He kept babbling like that forever, but couldn't land a single excuse.So I spelled it out for him, sharp as a blade. "You just loved Rainee more."He froze—then started slamming his head against the wall, over and over, the thuds echoing.Out in the hallway, the noise must've carried. Cecilia and Rainee barged in.They shoved the door open and stopped dead. There I was, covered in blood. Quentin looked wrecked.Rainee rushed me and shoved hard.I hit the floor like dead weight. The abortion had already wrecked me, and now a deep red streak followed me down the tile.Quentin's eyes went wide. He staggered toward me, but Cecilia yanked him back."Don't, Quentin. She deserved it for what she did to you," she snapped, pure venom in her voice.Rainee threw herself between us like some guard dog. "Try touching him again, Vivienne, and I swear—you're dead."Even with pain ripping through me, I smiled.I finally got it—there was something real between Rainee and Quentin, something
I watched his face twist—horror, disbelief, desperation all crashing together.A sick kind of satisfaction hit me. He got it. He just couldn't handle it.I raised a brow, shoulders shaking with laughter. Couldn't help twisting the knife."Like you see—this kid? His own dad didn't even want him. So what was the point?"I paused.Then I let it rip, every word sharp and cold through clenched teeth."Of course I got rid of it."Quentin froze like he'd taken a bolt straight to the chest.His face twitched. Fear lit up his eyes.His voice cracked, rusty. "That was our kid. How could you—how could you do that? We used to dream about this. We were so hyped to be parents. Why didn't you even tell me?"Seven years.Over two thousand nights of being his.I used to dream up our wedding, our babies. Had a name for the kid tucked away. Saw us in the garden, tiny fingers in mine.He'd be the tough-love dad doing math problems with the kid at the table.I'd handle the rest, every scraped












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