I'd spent six months saving every penny for prenatal care, but the money vanished overnight. Panicking, I called my fiancé, only to see him on another woman's social media.

The man's busy silhouette radiated excitement, with a luxury handbag sitting at the edge of the photo.

The caption read:

"Mr. Wellington is such a gentleman! Today's happiness starts with snagging the last designer bag at the boutique~"

When I came out of surgery, my furious fiancé finally showed up.

His first words were an accusation.

"Can you stop treating me like I'm on a leash?"

"My friend was feeling down, so I bought her a bag and kept her company. What's wrong with that? Why are you so petty!"

When I was wheeled out of the operating room, my lower abdomen still throbbed with sharp pain.

The agony of having my uterus scraped clean was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

Just three hours earlier, I had arrived at the hospital for my appointment with the high-risk pregnancy specialist, right on time. But at the payment counter, I discovered that all the money I had painstakingly saved had vanished from my account overnight.

I stared at my phone in disbelief, eyes wide, frantically refreshing the banking app over and over.

Ever since we learned that my barely-formed baby was in critical condition, I had scraped together every penny to afford the specialist consultation.

I stood frozen at the payment counter, breaking out in a cold sweat from panic. The stress was making my lower abdomen cramp with an ominous ache.

That money wasn’t just money to me—it meant life or death for my child.

Behind me, other patients waiting in line began grumbling impatiently.

"What's the holdup? Some of us have appointments too! Move it along!"

Sweat beaded on my forehead. Overwhelmed and desperate, tears began blurring my vision.

Finally, a nurse monitoring the payment kiosks noticed how pale I looked.

She helped me to a chair, but no matter what I tried, I couldn't get that money to appear in my account.

Just as I was about to break down completely and call the bank's fraud line, my first instinct was to tell my boyfriend I'd been robbed.

But when I opened my messages, the first thing I saw was a social media post Wendy Walker had just shared:

"They say the way to a girl's heart is through her stomach— Mr. Wellington really knows how to take care of a woman! Today's happiness starts with snagging the last designer bag at boutique~"

The photo showed a man's silhouette cooking in a kitchen.

In the corner of the image sat a brand-new luxury handbag—its price exactly matching the amount that had disappeared from my account.

The room spun. A violent cramp tore through my abdomen as I felt something warm and wet between my legs.

As they rushed me into surgery, I heard the doctor's urgent voice.

"Patient's miscarrying—where's her family? We're losing the baby!"

I heard the nurse trying to reach Daniel over and over.

When she finally got through, Daniel just snapped.

"Can you stop calling me every five minutes? I'm working my ass off so she can afford the best prenatal care, aren't I?"

When Daniel finally showed up and pushed open my hospital room door, he hadn't even bothered to wipe the irritation off his face before he saw me lying there, pale and hollow-eyed.

While I had been losing our child on an operating table, this so-called father had been cooking for another woman.

And me—his girlfriend who'd supported him through years of struggling—I couldn't even get a text back.

Under the nurse's disgusted stare, Daniel shifted uncomfortably.

"Kandice, why didn't you call me about something this serious?"

I didn't answer, but the nurse raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Wellington, right? Weren’t you the one who blocked her number while she was bleeding out on this very bed?”

Daniel hated being embarrassed in public. After the nurse's blunt accusation, he shot me a murderous look.

I knew he'd blame me for making him look bad.

Once the nurse left, he dropped all pretense.

"Kandice, I was only gone for a few days on business. You couldn't even keep our baby safe?"

My lips were cracked and dry, my eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

When I didn't respond, Daniel grabbed my shoulder roughly.

His finger jabbed toward my face, voice dripping with contempt.

"What good are you anyway? I bust my ass at work to support us both. You've got some nerve glaring at me like that. Everything you spend comes from my paycheck."

I managed to part my cracked lips, not bothering to hide my contempt.

"Support us? Daniel, you're the one who begged me to quit my job and focus on this pregnancy. Cut the act. Business trip? More like a booty call."

Maybe my expression looked too broken, because Daniel backed off slightly.

"I just needed that money for an investment opportunity. How was I supposed to know you'd lose the baby today? Besides, that investment just got me promoted to regional manager. We're finally going to be comfortable."

I let out a bitter laugh as he pulled out his phone, pretending he was about to pay the hospital bill—only to see that it had already been paid.

“My friend covered it,” I said flatly, too exhausted to even look at him.

I sank back into the pillows, too drained to even look at his twisted expression.

In the heavy silence, I closed my eyes and listened to Daniel mutter curses under his breath.

The mattress dipped as he sat down, studying the cold sweat on my forehead.

"Here. Got you something."

He tossed something onto my chest, jostling my surgical site.

I opened my eyes to see Daniel looking down at me smugly.

"It's a vintage designer bag—way nicer than anything you could afford before. Don't worry, now that I'm moving up in the company, I might buy you the real deal if you play your cards right."

I picked up what was obviously someone's old castoff.

When I opened it, I found a hair elastic tangled with strands of bleached hair.

The cheap knockoff reeked of desperation and humiliation.

Without hesitation, I hurled the grimy bag across the room.

"Keep your garbage. I don't want it."

Daniel watched his "gift" hit the wall and jumped up from the bed.

"Don't be such a bitch! Who do you think you are, some trust fund princess? Get over yourself."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat as I pressed my hand to my empty womb.

"How do you know I'm not?"

Daniel stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

"If you had money, would you have lived on ramen with me for three years? Would you have given up everything to help me build my career?"

I met his gaze steadily. After his cruel words, something seemed to dawn on him about everything I'd sacrificed.

"Look, enough drama. Wendy and I are just friends—practically family. Besides, her connections are helping my career. Can't you think about what's best for our future?"

He reached for my hand like he was doing me some grand favor, but the impatience in his eyes gave away his true feelings.

I wanted to slap that smug look right off his face, but I was too exhausted—too drained to do anything but sleep.