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.

Everyone in the room turned on me, indignant as if I were a heartless beast. Their voices rose, accusing me of neglect and cruelty.

Felix leaned weakly against Clara’s shoulder. “Ms. Clara, I’m dizzy. Don’t be angry with Ethan.” “He only wanted to threaten you with the child so he could seize the Lynn Group’s assets. Or he wanted a disabled heir to control us.”

I could no longer hold back. I threw the test results at him and lashed out, punching Felix in the chest. “You bastard—say another word. Who’s the cripple?” Grief and rage tore through me. The child I had waited for was gone; I could not accept that lie.

Felix collapsed with a thud, eyes rolling back. Clara screamed, clutching him. “Felix, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me!” Her voice was high. She stepped up, shouting, “ Ethan, if anything happens to him, I won’t forgive you.”

The onlookers’ anger sharpened. “How could you be so brutal? In public?” “Call the police! Men like him are dangerous.” “Domestic violence—call the police!”

Felix’s breathing stuttered, then steadied. He opened his eyes and, in a small voice, tried to soothe her. “Ms. Clara, you just had surgery. Don’t be angry. I’m fine. This is my fault—please don’t hit me again.” He looked at me with a timid, pleading expression. “If you really killed me, it would ruin Ms. Clara’s reputation.”

Clara’s expression shifted; the calculation returned. She clenched her jaw. “ Ethan, I’ve indulged you. It’s time you learned a lesson.” She called the police.

The officers arrived quickly. Felix still leaned in Clara’s arms, pale and breathless. “We received a report of a public assault,” one officer said. “Who is the suspect?”

Clara straightened, righteous fury painted on her face, and pointed at me. “Officer, it’s him. He attacked my friend in public. Arrest him.”

Spectators nodded. “He neglected his wife during a miscarriage and then made a scene—assaulted an innocent man.” “Arrest him now, or I’ll punch him myself.” Their voices closed in like a verdict.

I tried to explain the truth—that I had been attacked first and the consent forms were real—but my words dissolved under their judgment. I suddenly felt small in a room of witnesses. The police produced cuffs and approached. I stared only at Clara, and she did not flinch.

An hour later, we sat across from each other in an interrogation room. Under bright light, I told the officers: the debt collectors, my injuries, the treatments, the pregnancy, the abortion arrangement, and that Shane struck me first. The officer listened, bluntly.

“No matter the motive, there is clear evidence you assaulted someone,” he said. “Assault is a crime. Pregnancy complications are moral matters—tragic, painful—but they don’t excuse violence.”

Felix, clutching his head, took a few steps and then halted. “Officer, forget it,” he murmured. “I’m fine. Say a few kind words and drop it.”

Clara roared, voice shaking. “No, officer. You must hold him accountable. Put him where he belongs. Otherwise, who knows how brutal he will be next time?”

They pressed their case. Outside, rain began, each drop an accusation.

Memories flooded me—ten years of rebuilding, the nights we stayed late at the factory, the time she carried my jacket through winter, the promise she made when my ribs were broken. All of it now felt like a bargain she had rescinded. I had loved her with a trust that made me blind; now that trust lay in pieces. I wondered who had quietly replaced the woman I knew.

The police officer met Clara’s gaze and hesitated.

“Boss Lynn, Ethan is your husband. If you press charges, he’ll go to jail and get a criminal record. That follows him for life. Are you sure?”

Clara’s face was unreadable; she lifted her chin.

“I’m sure. Unless he kneels and publicly apologizes to Felix, swearing never to strike him again.”

Her calm unmoored me. I forced a smile I didn’t feel.

“Clara, are you sure? You want me to beg a mistress?”

“What mistress?” she snapped. “Don’t slander. Felix is my brother—my benefactor’s son.”

I let the sneer show. “Stop pretending. I saw the way you look at him.”

She stared at me for a long moment. “I didn’t betray our marriage,” she said.

“Fine. Wait for the court.”

An officer took my arm. “Mr. Hill, you’ve been wronged, but you can’t act on impulse. If this goes to court, you could be jailed.”

He leaned close. “That pretty boy doesn’t look harmless. If you go inside, will he let you out? Think carefully.”

The warning landed like a weight. With Clara shielding him, I had no protector. The room tightened.

In the interrogation room, I rose and bowed my head to apologize to Felix.

Before I could speak, Clara cut in. “Kneel and beg three times,” she ordered. “Then swear that if you ever target Felix again, you’ll die a miserable death.”

The demand stunned me. She wanted humiliation for another man she favored.

Felix watched with contempt and satisfaction. The policeman nudged my knee with his boot.

“A real man can bend,” he said. “Apologize.”

I ground my teeth and forced the words out, each syllable tasting of defeat. “I’m sorry. It was my fault. I swear I’ll never fight Felix again. If I break this promise, may I die a miserable death?”

Clara’s face softened into a small, satisfied smile. “ Ethan,” she said, “I knew you wouldn’t make things difficult.”

She gave orders. “You go to the company. I’ll take Felix to the hospital and stay with him for a few days. You manage the rest.”

She took Felix’s arm and left. Outside the station, my phone rang.

“Mr. Hill, the overseas flights are booked. We leave tonight.”

“Pick me up at eight. I want my technical team with me.”

“We’ll send a private jet. As many seats as you need. You choose salaries.”

Before leaving, I went to the hospital. Felix blocked the ward and smirked. I slid the divorce papers across.

“Felix, the company needs this signed. I know you’ll get Ms. Clara to sign.”

He waved me down the hall. “Wait here.”

Ten minutes later, he slammed the signed papers into my hands. “Now that you’re divorced, stop clinging to Ms. Clara. I don’t tolerate injustice. If you court her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He sneered at my knees as if they mattered.

I remembered the small things: the way she used to trace the seam of my sleeve when I was anxious, the late-night calls during the company's worst months, the promises exchanged under fluorescent office lights. Those moments felt less like history and more like bait—proof I had been patient, loyal, and blind. The betrayal tasted like ash.

I folded the papers and felt the full weight of what I had lost.

An hour later, I received the expedited divorce certificate and placed one copy on the coffee table in the villa.

At eight o’clock, I boarded the plane with my team, bound for a foreign land. As the city lights faded below, I thought silently—Clara, I’ve paid my dues. Let’s never meet again.