After three years of trying to conceive, my wife suddenly became pregnant—with twins.

Just as I was about to share the joyful news with everyone, I discovered something that shattered me: her appointment for an abortion.

When I confronted her, Clara Lynn’s eyes turned red as she whispered, “Uncle Albert Shane is in the late stages of cancer. The Shane family has had only one son for three generations. His final wish is to see Felix continue the family line.”

The words struck me like thunder. I tried to reason with her, and even our friends and relatives urged her not to go through with it. But Clara remained unmoved.

“ Ethan, it’s just one child,” she said stubbornly. “Do you really want Uncle Shane to die with regret?”

Her voice was cold, her tone cutting. “For so many years, my Lynn family has supported you. Isn’t it enough that you took over Mr. Henry Lynn’s position? Do you have to interfere with my reproductive rights, too?”

I looked at her—this woman I had loved for years—and felt something inside me break. Her familiar face now looked distant, almost foreign. “Clara,” I said quietly, “if you give birth to our child, I’ll agree to IVF for him. That’s my greatest compromise.”

But Clara only stood, her expression detached. She placed her ring on the coffee table and said, “I’m not as cold-blooded as you. Felix saved my life. He’s like a brother to me. I can’t let them die without a family line.”

Then, meeting my gaze with icy calm, she said, “I won’t keep the child. I’m informing you, not asking.”

My hands trembled as I finally let her go. “Clara,” I said, “let’s divorce.”

——

The room went silent. Clara froze at the doorway, turning back slowly, disbelief in her eyes. “What did you say? Divorce?”

Before I could respond, my father stormed over and slapped me hard. “Why can’t you talk things out properly? You want a divorce already? Are you even a man?”

Everyone rushed to hold him back, their voices blending into a blur. Clara frowned, her tone sharp with irritation.

“ Ethan Hill, you’re already thirty-two. Why are you still so childish?” she said coldly. “Felix is six years younger than you, yet he’s more mature. This IVF plan was carefully thought through. Once we fulfill my uncle’s last wish, Felix will give us the child. You’ll still be the biological father, and he’ll help raise it. Isn’t that enough?”

Her words were calm, even logical—but they cut deep.

So this was what I amounted to: a man unworthy of fatherhood, lucky even to raise another man’s child.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as memories flooded back.

Ten years ago, I was the poor student everyone mocked. Clara, then our class monitor, stood up for me. I still remember her fiery words on the podium, calling out those bullies and exposing their arrogance. She shone like sunlight in my dark world, tutoring me, paying me generous fees, and giving me confidence.

I thought our paths were bound together forever. But after graduation, disaster struck. The Lynn family was accused of smuggling; their assets were seized, and her father died mysteriously in prison. Overnight, Clara became a fugitive, hounded by creditors.

I gave up my position at a Fortune 500 company to stay by her side. It took us three years to uncover the conspiracy—a frame-up by a corrupt vice president—and seven more to rebuild the Lynn Group from ashes.

Together, we begged key engineers to return, rekindled old partnerships, and rebuilt the company one deal, one drink at a time.

Everything I am today, I built with her.

And now, the woman who once saved me wants to kill our children—for another man’s dying wish.

She and I knelt together to beg the technical director back, bringing back all the key personnel, and, one drink at a time, we built the Lynn Group into what it is today.

When the debt collectors attacked, I stood in front of Clara and took the blows meant for her. Three ribs broken, internal injuries—pain pained nearly killed me. When the doctor later said my fertility might be impaired, Clara cried, held me tightly, and swore she would never leave.

I refused to surrender. Once our company recovered, I began treatment, step by step, with hope. Three years ago, the doctor told us I had made real progress. Clara and I were overjoyed, and soon after, she became pregnant—twins. I couldn’t sleep that night. I held her in my arms, tears streaming down my face, thanking heaven for finally granting us a miracle.

Now, facing her cold and determined eyes, my gaze fell to her belly. That same belly that once carried my dreams now felt like a knife to my heart. My throat tightened, tears blurring my sight.

“Clara,” I rasped, “that’s the child I’ve waited ten years for. Don’t you think it’s cruel to destroy them?”

For a moment, guilt flickered in her eyes. Then she looked away. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m doing this for Felix. I don’t want him to die with regrets.”

She hesitated, then continued, “Your sperm quality isn’t good. Even if this baby is born, it might have problems. Felix is young, healthy. If he fathers a child, that child will have a better future—a higher IQ, maybe even brilliance.”

I gave a bitter smile. “So, in your heart, I’m defective. And you think my child would be too.”

I took a trembling breath. “If it were just about having a child, we could have found a surrogate. Why kill mine? Or did you just want to make me a living cuckold?”

Her face flushed red. “ Ethan, how can you speak like that? What do you mean by ‘cuckold’? Felix’s child is a blessing—no one else deserves it! I told you, we did it only for the baby. At that moment, I... I was still thinking of you!”

The room fell into uneasy silence. Our friends and relatives looked away, coughing awkwardly. One by one, they excused themselves, muttering half-hearted comfort before leaving.

Clara straightened her coat and said quietly, “ Ethan, I know you’re hurt. But I’m doing this for the future. Only with the best child can the Lynn Group truly thrive. Think it over.”

Then she walked out, closing the door behind her.

I collapsed onto the sofa, hollow and numb.

Moments later, my phone buzzed with a message from a friend. Clara had gone to the hospital. Felix Shane was by her side during the procedure, feeding her chicken soup afterward. In the photo, she leaned weakly against him, pale but content, sipping from the spoon he held.

My vision blurred as I stared at the attached image—the abortion slip. My heart plunged into ice. I had endured debt, humiliation, and her pain, but I could not protect the life we had waited a decade for.

I took a deep breath, dialed a number. “Victor James,” I said steadily, “I’ll take your offer. I’ll handle your overseas expansion—and I won’t be coming back.”

That night, I packed my things, printed the divorce papers, and went to the hospital. When I opened the door, I saw them—Clara resting in Felix’s arms, their smiles freezing when they saw me.

I didn’t shout or curse. I simply handed her the papers. “Sign it.”

Her hands trembled. “ Ethan… you really want a divorce?”

Her voice rose with anger. “We’ve suffered and fought for ten years! Is it all a joke to you? Can’t you understand me, just once?”

She tore the papers apart and threw them at me, sobbing.

I stood there silently, watching her cry in another man’s arms. The woman who once swore to love me forever had finally broken every promise she made.

When the debt collectors attacked, I pushed in front of Clara and took the blows. Three ribs broken, internal injuries that nearly killed me. When the doctor said my fertility might be damaged, she wept, hugged me, and promised to stay.

I refused to give up. Once the company stabilized, I began treatment, steady and relentless. Three years later, the doctor said I’d made progress. Clara and I tried for a child. When she told me she was carrying twins, I stayed awake all night, holding her, tears on my face.

Now, staring at Clara’s determined eyes, my gaze dropped to her belly. The joy I’d felt became a raw ache. My voice broke. “Clara, that’s the child I’ve waited ten years for. How can you end them?”

A flicker of guilt crossed her face. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m doing this for Felix. I don’t want him to carry regret.”

“You said my sperm quality is poor,” I said. “You said the baby might be born with defects.”

“Felix is young and healthy,” she said. “If he fathers the child, the child will have a better future—better genes.”

I smiled without humor. “So in your mind I’m broken, and any child of mine would be broken too.”

“If it were only about having a child, we could have used a surrogate,” I said. “Why abort ours? Or are you deliberately making me a cuckold?”

Her face flushed. “ Ethan, how can you say that? Felix’s child deserves a chance.” She added, strained, “We did it for the child. I was thinking of you then.”

Relatives and friends shifted uneasily. One person rose, murmured condolences, and left; others followed.

“ Ethan,” someone said, “I know you’re hurting. But this is for the future. Only the best heir can secure the Lynn Group. Think about it.”

They closed the door. I sank onto the sofa, the shock washing over me.

A friend texted: Clara had been admitted. Felix stayed by her side during the procedure and fed her soup afterward. In the photo, she leaned into him, pale but comforted. The abortion consent form in the message hit me like cold metal.

I had endured beatings and rumors, yet I could not protect the life we had waited a decade for. Defeated, I made a call. “Mr. James, I’ll take your offer to develop your overseas market. I won’t return.”

I packed a bag, printed divorce papers, and went to the hospital. Felix lay on his side, holding Clara in his arms. Their smiles died when they saw me. I did not shout. I calmly placed the papers before her.

“Sign them.”

Her hands shook. Tears welled. “ Ethan…you want a divorce?”

Anger flared. “We’ve suffered ten years together. Is that nothing to you? Can’t you understand me?”

She tore the papers and flung the pieces at me. I watched as she sobbed and curled into Felix’s embrace.

Without warning, Felix lunged and struck me hard. Pain exploded across my face. He straddled me, pulled my hair, and rained blows. Blood filled my mouth. Everything spun.

In pain I grabbed a stool and hit him. He cried out and fell. I scrambled up and kicked him. A lunchbox smashed into my head. Dizziness blurred everything.

Clara’s voice cut through: “ Ethan, how could you? You hit Felix with a chair!” She rushed to him, cradled his head, and left for the clinic with him, not looking back.

I lay on the floor, aching and numb, staring at the ceiling as our lives scattered like torn paper.