Two Hearts in Separate Bloom
When Levi Ezra and I got married, he had solemnly vowed he would love me for a lifetime.
Seven years later, he got another woman pregnant — a woman he had so carefully tucked away in a luxurious estate, complete with everything money could buy for a perfect, pampered delivery.
By the time I discovered the truth, his mistress's belly was already round and heavy. Her due date was just around the corner.
Levi had hesitated — for barely a second — before instinctively shielding her behind him, as though I were some threat.
He said, "Nikki, you're terrified of childbirth. Now that this baby is coming, the Ezra family will finally have an heir. You won't have to suffer anymore. We'll still be the same as before. Nothing will change."
I clutched the freshly issued pregnancy report in my hand — the one confirming my own child — and let out a laugh so sharp and brittle that it shattered into tears.
The day his mistress went into labor, I terminated my pregnancy. I left the divorce papers on his desk, packed my bags, and boarded the first flight to a foreign land.