After I landed in the hospital—again—from working myself into the ground, Jacob swore he was done playing house stockbroker.

"Starting tomorrow, I'll do anything. Haul bricks, deliver pizza, whatever. I'm not letting you carry this alone."

His eyes were glassy as he stormed out of the exam room like he was about to save the day or something.

Then the doctor walked in and handed me a report.

I was pregnant. Again.

Heart racing, I chased after Jacob... and froze.

He was standing outside some super VIP room. The same guys who used to bang on our door for money were suddenly all respectful.

"Mr. Klein, should we block her door again tomorrow?"

Jacob twirled our engagement ring around his finger. "No need. She already lost one baby paying off those debts. The test's over. Time she knew who I really am."

Then my best friend—Lillian Morvain—strolled out and wrapped her arms around his waist like she belonged there.

"Jacob, don't go soft. Your tests usually last at least five years. What if she's just another gold digger? Plus... I'd miss you."

He hesitated. Smirked. "Fine. We'll do it your way. She's not going anywhere anyway."

I stood there, clutching my stomach, sliding down the wall like the air had been punched out of me.

Later, I pushed open the office door.

"Dr. Spencer, I need a termination. Three days from now."

I landed in the hospital—again—from grinding too hard. That's when the truth dropped: my husband was rich.

Turns out, his childhood friend talked him into running some twisted loyalty test. If I wasn't after his cash, he'd marry me.

Too bad for him—I was already out. I didn't love him, and I wasn't keeping this second baby.

***

Jacob walked in while I was packing.

He grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing?"

I didn't even look at him. "Hospital bills are brutal. I'm out." My voice cracked.

He froze. Guilt all over his face.

His throat moved like he had something to say, but all I got was, "I'm sorry."

Even now, with everything on the line, he picked silence over owning up to his stupid little test.

No surprise. When I lost our first baby, he cried, then dumped me at some sketchy back-alley clinic.

The crappy treatment wrecked my body. I've been hurting ever since.

Even today, the doctor warned me:

"Think it through, Ms. Hart. This might be your last shot."

I shut my eyes, drained. Opened them and saw the tan line on his wrist.

Guess he took his fancy watch off before coming in. How thoughtful.

I said nothing. He brushed my cheek. "Don't be upset. Want me to call Lillian to keep you company?"

I was about to shut it down, but he was already dialing.

Soon as she picked up, his face softened. "Zoe's sick. Don't you wanna see your best friend?"

Lillian's voice came through all sugary, saying she'd come.

Like it was settled. Like I didn't get a say.

I let out a slow breath, eyes burning as I stared out the window.

***

Back home, Jacob started scrubbing like that could fix anything. Then he stocked the fridge with seafood and meat like he suddenly gave a damn.

Half an hour later, the table was loaded—four dishes and cream soup.

My fists curled, nails digging in.

Last time I was pregnant, the doc said I needed more protein. Jacob said we couldn't afford it.

That's part of why I lost the baby—straight-up malnutrition.

But now? For Lillian, he was serving up luxury I never even let myself want.

I snapped, pointing at the tomahawk steak.

"That had to cost a fortune. Where'd the money come from?"

He paused. Calm as ever. "Lillian sent it. She was worried you wouldn't eat after the hospital. Why are you asking?"

That flicker in his eyes? I knew it too well. The look he got whenever I brought up money—like I was walking into a trap.

I turned away, choking down the lie with my tears.

"It's nothing."

My stomach flipped. I gagged and ran.

I was on my knees, sobbing, when he rushed in and rubbed my back, panicked.

"Baby, what's wrong? Should we go back to the hospital?"

He reached for his phone. I snatched it and ended the call.

Wiped my mouth. Stood up. "I'm fine."

He brought stomach meds and hovered till I took them.

"Get some rest. I've got a night shift. Lillian'll come by tomorrow."

I didn't say a word. Set the glass down. Turned away.

Later, I heard the balcony door creak open.

"Lillian, don't bother. She's asleep."

Her voice came through all pouty. "But I already dressed up. It's only been a few hours, but I missed you."

Jacob chuckled, soft and sweet. "Alright, alright. I'll come to you."

Once his footsteps faded, I opened my eyes.

Grabbed my phone.

Booked a one-way ticket. Somewhere far.

Three years of tests, lies, and fake love—I was done.

"Jacob, I never want to see you again."

Took me less than thirty minutes to wrap everything up. All that was left was to wait three days for the procedure.

We never got legally married. Thank God.

I brought it up plenty over the years, but he'd always dodge it.

"Once I make it big, I'll throw you the grandest wedding."

Sure, he worked hard—always chasing some dream—but all he ever brought home was bad news.

Still, he kept going. Falling asleep at his desk, running on fumes. I saw the spark. That's why I carried the bills, the debt, everything—for his dream.

But turns out, his big "hustle" was just luxury trips with Lillian.

Her latest post? Two hands locked across a fancy table. His ring was right there.

It was always in my face. I just worked too much to notice her little digs.

I shut my phone, climbed out of bed, and got ready to quit my job for good.

At one point, I had ten gigs just to crush the debt. By the end, I was barely functioning.

My last job was at a bar. The second I walked in, the reek of booze smacked me in the face.

One guy glanced over and scowled.

"Peter, this how your bar treats guests now?"

I kept it simple. "Just here to resign."

The guy sneered. "Oh? Quitting? What, some rich sugar daddy finally picked you up?"

I didn't answer. Tried to walk past, but he shoved me into the wall, both hands locking around my waist.

"Feisty. I like that. You're done here anyway—why not come with me? I'll treat you good."

I slapped his hands off, cheeks burning. "Show some respect."

"Respect?" He laughed. "You're just bar trash. You should be grateful I noticed you."

"I'm not!"

Then he leaned in, lips hitting my neck. The stink of alcohol made me gag.

I shoved him down and made a break for it—but I barely got a few steps before he grabbed me and slapped me flat.

Pain shot through me. Heat flooded between my thighs.

He looked down and sneered.

"Damn. Another pregnant bar rat."

I curled up, arms wrapped around my stomach, sweat dripping from my face.

From where I lay, I spotted him through the cracked VIP door.

Jacob. Chilling with a glass of wine, cool as ever, eyes smug and satisfied.

He snapped his fingers. A server handed Lillian a gift box.

He opened it himself—ballet flats. Then he knelt and slipped them on her like it was some fairytale.

Lillian lit up like royalty. The crowd lost it, yelling for her to say yes.

My chest twisted so tight I could barely breathe.

A guy glanced at my tear-streaked face. "What are you staring at? That's Jacob—richest guy in Bayronne City. And her? His childhood sweetheart. Give it up."

I looked down at the blood smeared on my thigh and let out a bitter laugh.

Pulled myself up, hand clutching my waist as I stumbled toward the door. It was barely ten meters, but felt like forever.

The guy didn't follow. Maybe it was the look in my eyes.

Outside, a stretch Lincoln idled by the curb.

I suddenly remembered Jacob flipping through a magazine once, pausing on that exact car.

He lit up just looking at it. I'd wrapped my arms around him and said, "You like it? I'll work hard and buy it for you."

He laughed like it was the best joke he'd ever heard, swearing I didn't have to.

I thought he was touched.

Looking back, he just thought I was pathetic.

To him, that car was nothing—just another toy, like a water bottle I'd grab off the street.

Right then, the hospital didn't matter anymore.

I just wanted my passport and a one-way ticket out.

I didn't expect to walk in and find Lillian at the dinner table while Jacob moved back and forth from the kitchen like some doting host.

The second he saw me, he wiped his hands and rushed over. "Zoe, where'd you go? I couldn't find you—I was freaking out."

I looked at the warm food on the table and let out a dry laugh.

He reached for my arm. I pulled away.

"Overtime," I said flatly. "I'm going to bed."

As I walked past, he stopped me. "Lillian barely visits. Why not sit and eat with us?"

"No. I'm tired."

Right then, Lillian stood and took my hand, all soft concern. "At least eat something. You look pale—what if you faint?"

Her voice was sweet, like always, but her eyes? Full of smugness.

I used to wonder why a rich girl like her would even bother with me. Turns out, she was playing the long game.

I yanked my hand away. "If you're hungry, help yourself."

She froze, her eyes watering on cue. Jacob grabbed my wrist.

"She's your best friend. How could you humiliate her like that?"

I laughed bitterly and peeled his fingers off one by one.

Lillian stepped in, acting all heartbroken. "Let it go, Jacob. Zoe's probably just exhausted. I don't mind. She's more important."

I ignored her fake tears and stormed into the bedroom to pack.

But the second I opened the closet, my heart dropped.

The ultrasound was gone.

I ran out. "Where's the ultrasound I left in the drawer?"

Jacob frowned and leaned over. "Gone? Maybe you misplaced it. You looked at it all the time."

"I wouldn't forget!" My voice cracked. "That was the only thing I had left of my first child. It meant everything to me."

He knew. He knew how much it meant.

He grabbed my arm gently. "Don't panic, baby. We'll find it."

Then Lillian whispered, "I'm sorry... I tore it up."

We both turned.

She was crying now, hands over her face. "There was no fire in the kitchen... I couldn't find anything to light it with. I used those papers. I thought the baby was already gone, so they didn't matter..."

Jacob shot her a furious glare—but he didn't say a word. Instead, he turned to me, voice soft.

"I know you're upset, but she didn't mean to. The baby's gone... but friendships last, right? We'll have more kids. There's still time."

I stood there, silent. Then I walked into the kitchen and pulled the shredded pieces from the trash.

That was my baby. I watched him grow on that screen, day by day.

The paper was worn from all the times I held it, soaked with tears.

When everything else broke me, he was the only reason I kept going.

Now even that was gone—ripped apart by her hands.

When Jacob saw me shaking, he pulled me close and wiped my tears. Then he turned to Lillian, cold and sharp.

"Well? Apologize."

She ran over. "Zoe, I'm sorry. It's my fault. If you're still mad, hit me."

Then she slapped herself, hard. A red mark bloomed across her cheek.

Jacob hesitated. I saw it—pity.

"That's enough... you—"

I shoved him off me and slapped her. Hard.

She flew back, crashing into the table. Her head hit the edge with a sickening thud. Blood started pouring from her forehead.

I stared down at her, voice flat and cold. "Get out of my house."

"Zoe Hart, are you insane?!"