When I found out I was pregnant, Elroy Lousteau went all out—hired some fancy doctor, loaded me up with meds to "protect the baby."

He'd never believed in anything before, but suddenly he went to church, praying like his life depends on it.

"You've been through hell, babe. Once the baby's here, I swear I'll make it right."

That same day, I picked up his phone by accident.

"As instructed, the meds include a compound for permanent infertility. The baby will be stillborn.

"Ms. Tillon's baby is healthy and will be delivered safely—as the true Lousteau heir.

"Mrs. Lousteau won't suspect a thing. Your relationship's secure. You can rest assured."

I looked down at my belly.

He never loved me. Not really.

So I made up my mind—once the divorce papers were signed, I was gone. No looking back.

The phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor, cutting the call.

I stared at my belly, hand resting over it. Tears were already there.

No wonder Elroy Lousteau never cared when I asked him to feel the kicks.

He knew. He always knew. This baby was never supposed to make it.

He walked out of the bathroom, grinning. "Baby being a handful again? Should I give 'em a talk?"

I looked up, face soaked, but the words wouldn't come.

Then he rushed over, all fake panic and hugs.

"What's wrong, babe? Nervous? I'll be right there the whole time, I promise."

His grip sent a chill down my spine.

How could he fake it so easily? Kill our baby, keep his side chick happy, then still play the doting husband like nothing happened?

My mouth tasted like metal. I touched my belly, testing him.

"Elroy... why can't I feel the baby move?"

He knelt, pressed his ear to me. I caught that flash of annoyance in his eyes before he smoothed it over.

"The baby's fine—super active. You're just stressed, babe. I'm right here."

I almost brought up the call—

Then a knock.

"Mr. Lousteau, the doctor needs to speak with you about the surgery."

Elroy gave me one last look. "I'll be right back."

He always made a show of talking medical stuff in front of me, like it'd calm me down. But now—

At the door, Elroy's assistant dropped his voice. "She keeps asking for you. I'm worried she'll get emotional and mess up the pregnancy."

My chest went tight. I followed, slow.

He didn't even bother closing the door all the way—just shoved it half shut and walked in.

Brigitte Tillon was on the bed. The maid's daughter.

Elroy pressed his face to her belly, smiling.

"See? Baby's doing great. Stop faking sick just to get my attention, alright? You'll make me worry."

He tapped her forehead, all soft and sweet.

Brigitte giggled, grabbed his hand, kissed it.

"I just missed you. You spend all your time with her—can't I have a little more?"

He leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep. "There, there."

"We've gotta keep her calm for now. How else are we gonna get her to raise our baby? Everything I've done is to make sure your kid inherits Lousteau Corp—don't you get that?"

The air left my lungs. I staggered back.

He didn't just destroy my pregnancy—he wanted me to raise theirs.

Ten minutes ago, he was holding my hand like I was his whole world.

Now he was in the next room, plotting to make me a babysitter for his mistress's kid.

If I hadn't heard it myself, I wouldn't believe this was the same guy I gave eight years to.

I heard them shift on the bed—Brigitte's giggle, sticky sweet.

"The doc said it's safe to, y'know... help with the stress in third trimester... mm! You're terrible!"

I stood there, frozen. Let the pain sink in deep.

Then I turned and walked straight to the doctor's office.

***

"Dr. Jourdain, just be straight with me. The baby... there hasn't been movement in a while, right?"

I was weirdly calm. Guess I was already numb.

He adjusted his glasses, hesitated. Then gave in.

"Mrs. Lousteau... I wasn't supposed to say anything without Mr. Lousteau's go-ahead, but... your baby passed two months ago."

He knew the risk. Knew how dangerous it was to carry a stillborn that long.

But they let it happen—just to break me down, get me to raise someone else's kid.

I met his eyes.

"I need a favor. After the surgery, tell him I died on the table."

His face crumpled. "Alright. I'll do it."

As I stepped out of the office, there they were—Brigitte waddling down the hall, Elroy right next to her, playing the doting dad.

Our eyes locked. Elroy froze, then bolted over like his shoes were on fire.

"Babe, I've been looking everywhere. You shouldn't be walking around alone—it's not safe."

The red marks on his chest said otherwise. Still fresh. Still glowing.

I smiled, cool and sharp. 'Yeah, not safe—for you, if I find out what you've been doing,' I said inwardly.

"I wasn't feeling well. Just had a quick question for Dr. Jourdain," I said, brushing past him.

Brigitte followed, eyes full of venom. Her smile was all sugar-coated spite.

"Mrs. Lousteau, your husband really worries. You were gone two minutes and he was already panicking."

Could've gagged on the sarcasm.

Before I could speak, Elroy snapped, face stormy.

"What's it to you? Back off."

He tried to cover the affair with attitude, but the guilt in his eyes as she walked off gave him away.

I just saw a charm hanging around her neck. It looked like mine... but it wasn't.

Back in my room, I looked it up.

Mine was a knockoff. Useless. Worse than useless.

Brigitte's was the real one.

When I first told Elroy I was pregnant, he barely reacted. Just stayed calm, distant.

Then he disappeared to some church—lit a candle, prayed for a long time—and came back with a charm he swore would protect me and the baby.

I told myself he just sucked at showing feelings. I was touched.

But it was all an act.

The charm was for Brigitte.

The charm he gave me was fake. So was his love.

He sliced an apple, held a piece to my lips. I turned away. He hesitated, looking thrown.

Then, softly, "Babe... did you pick up my phone this morning?"

His brow creased. Waiting. Watching.

The longer I said nothing, the more nervous he got.

"What did you hear?"

I looked away, drained. "Nothing. Your phone was across the room. I knocked it off by accident."

He exhaled, all relieved, and tucked the blanket around me like everything was fine.

Then, real quiet, he asked, "If our baby doesn't make it... could we adopt?"

So ready to keep his promise—to her.

I gave a faint smile. "Remember what you said at our wedding? That if you ever betrayed me, you'd spend your life drowning in guilt. Never know peace."

Funny how vows shine so bright... then vanish.

Elroy's face twisted. "Babe, I'd never hurt you! You have to believe me!"

I let out a dry laugh, pulled the blanket over my head.

"I'm tired."

Tired of pretending this was love.

***

The day before my due date, I went home.

Elroy had kept me locked in the hospital since the second I got pregnant—on-call doctors, round-the-clock care.

But now? No need. The baby was never coming.

The house overflowed with baby stuff. I used to think he picked it out with love.

Now I knew—it was all for Brigitte's kid.

The computer was still on.

A notarized doc sat open, naming the next Lousteau heir.

I scrolled. Mother's name: Brigitte Tillon.

Our wedding photos, dating pics, even that dumb pottery from college—they were all still out.

The more perfect it looked, the more it crushed me.

Did he still love me?

I traced his face in a wedding photo.

We were the couple everyone envied. Elroy spoiled me so much, people wouldn't shut up about it.

I still remember when I said yes—how he cried, promised forever, swore he'd never let go.

And the time he blew up at the maid when Brigitte slept in our bed because she had a fever.

He wanted them gone.

I stopped him.

The maid was old. Brigitte was still a student.

That one kind moment cost me everything.

Looking back, the signs were always there.

He was always "tutoring" Brigitte.

What kind of tutoring does a college student need?