"Claire, don't take it the wrong way—I really don't have a choice," Ryan said, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Listen, once the company’s crisis is over, I’ll secretly buy you a house. You can live there and I’ll visit whenever I can.”

He paused, as if expecting me to be grateful for his plan.

“But right now, I can’t afford to lose an opportunity like the one Emily offers. She’s my only way out of this mess.”

I stared at him, utterly speechless. It was hard to believe that such heartless words could come from someone I thought I knew.

“So, let me get this straight,” I said, my voice trembling. “You want to marry her, while making me your mistress?”

Ryan shrugged, as if it were the most logical solution in the world.

“What other choice do I have?” he snapped. “If I don’t marry Emily, the company will collapse. But if I do, I can turn everything around and have the life I’ve always wanted.

“Since you refuse to leave me, this is the only way. You’ll just have to accept it!”

The sheer audacity of his words left me seething. Ryan even had the nerve to slam his hand on the table, acting as though I was the unreasonable one.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing the glass of water on the table, I splashed it directly in his face.

“Claire, you’re being ridiculous!” he yelled, but I didn’t care.

Without another word, I stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

From the other side, I could still hear him shouting, his tone dripping with contempt.

“I’m giving you three days to think this through! If you don’t agree, you can get out of my life for good!”

“And don’t kid yourself, Claire. Do you really think you’re better than Emily? You should feel lucky I’m even offering you this chance, considering everything we’ve been through!”

Moments later, I heard the door slam as Ryan left the apartment. I sank to the floor, leaning against the bedroom door, clutching my knees. Hot tears streamed down my face as I let out muffled sobs.

He wanted to turn me, his loyal girlfriend of seven years, into a mistress—and he said it as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

I couldn’t believe how blind I had been. This wasn’t love.

As I sat there, my eyes wandered to the floor beneath the bed. Something caught my attention—a small, familiar box. I reached for it, my heart sinking as I realized what it was. It was an empty box of condoms. Seven were supposed to be inside, but all of them had been used.

The realization hit me like a freight train. In the three days I had been at my mother’s house, begging her to approve our marriage, Ryan had brought her here. Emily Hart.

They had spent those days in our bed, laughing and shamelessly carrying on while I was sacrificing everything for him. My heart clenched with pain, the betrayal cutting deeper than I thought possible.

“Ryan,” I whispered through gritted teeth, “you’ve crossed the line.” Hatred surged through me, drowning out the pain. He was going to regret this.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found Emily’s number. Months ago, I had hired a private investigator to dig up dirt on her when I discovered she was seducing my father. I had confronted her back then, but I had let her off too easily.

Not this time. But as I prepared to call her, a notification popped up on my phone. It was a new post on Emily’s social media.

“I told him I didn’t want to sleep alone and my boyfriend rushed over to keep me company. This is the kind of love I deserve,” the caption read.

Attached to the post was a photo of Emily lying in Ryan’s arms, a smug smile on her face. Ryan, who had been shouting at me just hours ago, was now cradling her like she was his whole world.

My hands trembled as I stared at the image. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, but this time, they felt more like liquid rage.

“Fine,” I whispered to myself, setting the phone down. “If this is how you want it, Ryan, then so be it. You’ll see exactly what you’ve thrown away.”

The next morning, I got up early. My eyes were puffy from crying, but my resolve was stronger than ever. I went straight to the hospital.

This child was destined to be a cruel joke.

When I dragged my exhausted body back to the apartment after terminating the pregnancy, Ryan was already home. To my surprise, the dining table was set with several dishes. For a moment, I couldn't decipher his intentions.

When he saw me walk in, Ryan immediately plastered a smile on his face, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I made a few special dishes for you, Claire. Come on, have a taste and tell me how my cooking skills are,” he said cheerfully, grabbing a king crab leg and placing it in my bowl.

But as I stared at the food in front of me, I felt nothing—no hunger, no gratitude, only cold detachment. It didn’t take long for me to notice the obvious: these dishes weren’t cooked by him. They were takeout.

“Since when did you become a master chef?” I asked, my tone laced with sarcasm as I shot him an icy glare.

I already knew the truth, thanks to Emily’s social media post. Her gloating had told me everything. These dishes weren’t meant for me—they were the leftovers from Ryan and Emily’s extravagant meal.

In his eyes, I was worth nothing more than scraps. And he had the audacity to bring them home, as though they were a gift.

Ryan’s forced smile faltered. He finally dropped the act, letting out a small laugh.

“Well, you know I can’t cook,” he admitted, shrugging. “But you should still try them. These dishes are from the chef at the Imperial Hotel. Do you know how much they cost? You’d need thousands just to afford a meal like this.”

I smiled bitterly at his words. “Wow, Ryan. How generous of you.”

He didn’t know that my mother used to take me to the Imperial Hotel regularly when I was a child. I’d eaten there so often I’d grown tired of it.

But for Ryan, I had given up all my comforts and lived a simpler life. I even went along with his frugal habits, like the time we passed by the hotel and I mentioned how much I missed their signature lion’s head meatballs. He didn’t hesitate to dismiss the idea, saying, “It’s too expensive. We can’t afford that.”

And yet now, not only had he taken Emily there and ordered their most extravagant dishes, but he’d brought home their leftovers—food that likely still carried traces of her lipstick and saliva—for me to eat.

It was disgusting. But what truly pushed me over the edge were his next words.

Ryan looked at me, his voice softening further, as if he were delivering a heartfelt confession.

“Claire, please don’t think this means I don’t care. When I found out you were pregnant with my child, I was thrilled.”

He smiled, as if expecting me to share in his excitement. “So here’s what we’ll do. Once the company gets through this crisis, we’ll keep the baby and I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable and provide for you both.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “You’re going to marry Emily and you still want this child? For what?”

Ryan sighed, as though I was being unreasonable. “Claire, I know how much you love me. I understand how hard it must be for you to accept the situation with the company. So, to make it up to you, I’ll do everything I can. I’ll buy you a house and I promise to visit you and the baby whenever I can.

“Claire, I truly cherish the relationship we’ve had all these years,” he said, his tone dripping with fake sincerity.

He actually thought his manipulative words would sway me. He didn’t realize that every sentence he spoke made me feel more nauseous.

Ryan wanted it all. He wanted to marry Emily to save his company while keeping me as his secret mistress. He expected me to comply with his selfish plan, thinking I’d be so blinded by love that I’d settle for his scraps.

I let out a bitter laugh. He truly didn’t understand me at all. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the document I’d been holding onto—the abortion slip.

I placed it on the table and slid it toward him. “The baby,” I said coldly, meeting his eyes, “is already gone.”