With His Baby, Without Him
The night before I was supposed to marry the heir to the Moretti family, I found a string of ninety-nine filthy texts on my fiancé Leo’s phone.
A woman named Ava Collins, telling him she loved him. Shameless. Desperate.
She was begging him to call off our wedding, threatening to kill herself if he went through with it.
I didn’t waste a second.
I shoved the phone in his face and demanded an explanation.
The silence stretched for an eternity before he finally broke.
“Her brother was Liam. My underboss. He took a bullet for me. My bullet. I promised him I’d look after her.”
"Jennifer, we grew up together. You know it’s you. It’s always been you. I swear, I’ll handle it. I’ll cut her off."
I searched his eyes, hunting for the lie.
I swallowed the acid in my throat and chose to believe him. The wedding was on.
This was bigger than us.
It was a treaty signed in blood between two families.
And God help me, I still loved him.
But on our wedding day, as we stood at the altar, vows on our lips, Leo got the call.
It was her. Ava.
On a bridge, threatening to jump. Demanding he come. Now.
The diamond ring, a breath away from my finger, clattered to the stone floor of the church.
Not a word.
Not a single explanation.
He just left. Left me, our families, our future... left me standing alone at the altar.
Through a blur of tears, I screamed after him, "Leo, if you walk out that door, we are done!"
His only reply, tossed over his shoulder, “She needs me.”
He never looked back.
Carrying his child, I vanished from his world and never looked back.