Pregnant After The Contract Ended

**Naomi’s POV**  

I held the cold metal railing tightly as I walked into the hospital hallway. My legs felt weak. My heart pounded like it wanted to break through my chest.  

“Congratulations, Mrs. Ashford,” the doctor said with a smile I couldn’t feel. “You’re eight weeks pregnant.”  

I froze.  

Pregnant. Me. For **him**. The man I married a year ago, but who never loved me. The man who already had his eyes on another woman. Valentina.  

My chest tightened. I could barely breathe. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. And yet, I couldn’t move.  

He didn’t love me. Not ever. He married me because I was the only one available for him just to get the families wealth. The Ashfords’ wealth. That was all I was. A business deal. A tool. A servant dressed in white silk and lace.  

Even in the house… I was nothing. Treated like a maid. Ignored by the maids. Sneered at by the servants. Shunned by his family. And yet… he held the power to ruin me completely.  

I thought of the contract. One year. Exactly one year. That’s all I was allowed to be his wife. One year of pretending. One year of humiliation. One year of waiting for love that would never come.  

Now, the year was ending. And I was carrying his child.  

I swallowed hard. My hands shook as I gripped the hospital counter for support.  

“Mrs. Ashford? Are you alright?” the nurse asked, noticing my pale face.  

I nodded quickly, not trusting my voice.  

I had no one. My parents died when I was fifteen. I had no siblings, no cousins who cared. Just me. Alone. Orphaned. The only family I had was… him. Or at least, the marriage.  

And even that… was a lie.  

---

**Flashback – The House**  

The house was cold. Not because of winter. Not because of the marble floors or the chandelier that hung in the hall. No. It was cold because **nobody loved me there**.  

I walked quietly down the hall, carrying a tray of tea. The maids whispered behind my back. The cooks laughed when they thought I couldn’t hear. His mother never looked me in the eye, unless it was to order me around. His father… well, he barely spoke to me at all.  

Lucas, My so-called husband. He barely noticed me unless he wanted something. And even then, it wasn’t kindness. It was control. Power. Ownership.  

I remembered the first night I moved into the Ashford mansion. I was nineteen, innocent, full of hope. I thought… maybe, just maybe, if I was good, if I tried hard enough, he might… care. He might love me.  

I was wrong.  

The truth hit me like a hammer over and over again. He never wanted me. Not me. He wanted his family’s money. The Ashford fortune. The only son had to marry the right girl. That was me. But he already had his heart set on Valentina. Beautiful, perfect, everything he ever wanted. Everything I could never be.  

I was just… background. A shadow. Someone to keep the house quiet while he waited for his real love to arrive.  

---

**Back to the Hospital**  

Now, eight weeks pregnant. Alone. Afraid. And the one person who could protect me… wasn’t going to. Not anymore.  

The contract ends today. He signed the papers. Divorce. Done. Finished. And soon, he would be free to marry Valentina without a single thought about me or the child I carried.  

I pressed my hands over my stomach. My baby. My little one who hadn’t even been born yet. My child would never know their father’s love. Would never know what it felt like to be wanted.  

I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something. Punch the walls. Cry until my throat burned.  

But I couldn’t.  

Not here. Not now.  

I remembered rushing to the hospital this morning. My chest had been tight all day, but I had tried to ignore it. I had been taking care of the house, feeding the cat, talking to the maids who whispered about me behind my back. Everyone hated me.  

I had no one.  

I had no mother to wipe my tears. No father to hold me and tell me it would be okay. Just Lucas.The man who had promised nothing and given less.  

And Valentina.  

She had everything he wanted. She had everything he could never get from me. And I… I had a baby. A baby he would never care about.  

I walked out of the examination room, my legs trembling. I could barely stand. I pressed my hands over my stomach again.  

Then I saw it. The small café in the hospital. Coffee. Tea. Maybe wine, though I shouldn’t touch it.  

I sat down, my shoulders shaking. I tried to breathe. Tried to calm down. Tried to pretend that this wasn’t the end of everything I had ever hoped for.  

I wanted to scream. I wanted someone to hold me. I wanted to vanish.  

I remembered the words Lucas had whispered on our first night as a couple:  

 “Just wait. Everything will be fine. You’ll see. One day, you’ll understand.”  

I didn’t understand. I would never understand. Because everything was broken. Everything.  

A hand on my shoulder.  

“Naomi…”  

I looked up. It was Abigail. My best friend. My only friend. My sister in every way that mattered. She had stayed with me when everyone else left. She had laughed, cried, and fought for me when I had no one else.  

“I… I’m pregnant,” I whispered.  

Her eyes widened.  

“You… you’re what?”  

I shook my head. “It’s him… it’s Lucas.”  

Abigail's face darkened. Her jaw tightened. “Oh, Naomi…”  

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. I could see it in her eyes. She understood everything. The contract. The divorce. The fiancée. The house. The years of loneliness. The abuse.  

She grabbed my hand. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry about him right now. Your baby matters. That’s all that matters.”  

I nodded. Tears fell. My grief was a flood. My anger, my betrayal, my fear… all of it came crashing down.  

I looked at my phone. A message from Lucas lawyer:  

 *“The divorce papers are ready for your signature. Today is the last day of your contract marriage.”*  

I pressed my hands over my stomach again. My baby. My child who had done nothing wrong. My child who would inherit… what? A father who never cared. A house full of strangers who hated me.  

I wanted to vanish. To disappear. To take my baby and go somewhere far, far away.  

I would not sign. Not yet. Not while I had hope. Hope that maybe… just maybe… the world hadn’t completely forgotten me.  

I walked down the hall again. The lights were too bright. The smell of antiseptic made me dizzy. I held my stomach and shivered.  

I remembered all the nights I had cried alone. All the times I had pretended to sleep while the servants whispered behind my back. All the times I had tried to make him notice me, smile at me, love me… and failed.  

All of it came back in a wave, stronger than ever.  

And yet… I was alive. And my child was alive. That was something. Something worth fighting for.