She's Pregnant

Christian and I had been together for years. My body was never the kind that conceived easily, so when I first became pregnant, I didn't even notice.

When I saw the news showing him and Jasmine coming out of a hotel like a couple that'd just had a steamy session, I charged right into his company and raised hell.

The employees thought it was a joke. Christian, with his inflated need of ego-stroking, thought I was an embarrassment. For one week he didn't return home, and rumors caught up to me.

"Is Mr. Helmley getting a divorce?"

"He's rich and successful, but his wife hasn't stepped up in forever."

"And she's grown a lot older this year. Wrinkles all over her face, and her skin's sagging. Of course her husband's leaving."

I forced myself to look the other way and kept the thoughts at bay at first, but then Christian started swapping out women like they were disposable utensils.

Perhaps I shouldn't think about that kind of past. While Christian wasn't home, I sold all the properties and supercars at low, low prices.

The agent found it surprising, but I told him to just make the sale ASAP, regardless of the price. I was thankful that Christian gave me piles of assets and jewelry back when he loved only me.

I also had a sizable amount of shares in his company. Every time we went at it back then, he would hug me like he was squeezing a teddy bear and tell me how much he loved me, again and again.

He promised he would give me the best the world had to offer and secure my future. "If I ever fall for someone else one day," he once said with a laugh, "this version of me will make sure he pays for it."

Neither of us imagined that someday would come just one year into our marriage.

…

I wanted to sell all my assets and maintain my lifestyle even after the divorce.

Six days before my flight to Asternis, I went back to the countryside.

There was a lemon garden there—rows of trees stretching under the open sky. He had given it to me for my twenty-sixth birthday.

That moment under the tree brought us our first child.

Sweet memories here, despite the fruits it held, but all I wanted to do was bid it one last goodbye.

I pushed the steel gates open. The moment I pushed open the gates, a heavy floral scent hit me—thick, overwhelming.

Jasmine.

My throat tightened. My skin reacted instantly, irritation spreading across my face.

Christian knew I was allergic to pollen. Why would he fill this place with jasmine?

The butler in the garden scurried away after she gave me a panicked look. When I tried the door, it denied me access. "Authorized personnel only."

That was bemusing.

Then the door opened. A soft, syrupy voice floated out.

"You can't keep yourself away from me, can you, honey? And I let you suck on me the whole night."

Jasmine Wood, probably. His latest and most beloved mistress.

On screen, she looked radiant. Up close, without makeup, there were traces of someone familiar—echoes of who I used to be.

That realization lingered longer than it should have.

"Ms. Wood, wrecking someone's marriage is illegal. Christian's company is going public very soon, and a scandal is the last thing he needs. If this goes out, I'm sure he'll pull back all his protection."

I tried to move past her.

Jasmine grabbed my wrist, and her eyes twinkled with smugness. "Christian gave this house to me after he took my first time."

I saw disdain in her eyes. Disdain for me. "And if the rumors are true, dancers are very… promiscuous. Most of you aren't virgins anymore."

The younger me would be incandescent after that remark, but the older me didn't argue with her.

Instead, I called Christian right away.

It went through, and Christian's tired voice said, "I just got out of a meeting. Can you please let me catch my breath? Jasmine had a hard past, so just let her have that house. It's just a countryside property, not a big deal.

"I've given you more houses than I could count. What more do you want? If you really want it, I…"

The rest of that didn't reach me. Jasmine pounced on me like a panther, and the phone fell with a clatter.

"I heard you stayed with him for eight years while he had nothing," she said. "He married you out of gratitude. Don't you think he's repaid that by now?"

Then she turned toward a camera nearby. Tears welled in her eyes as she dropped to her knees. "Please… let him go. For the sake of my child."

Christian probably noticed something, and his voice took on an element of agitation. "What'd you do to her, Natasha? I gave you everything I could, so don't push it! Damn it, can you stop being possessive for three seconds?"

A cold laugh slipped from me. "You know exactly how I feel about betrayal," I said quietly. "If she stays, I leave."

I turned toward the door. For the first time, panic entered his voice. "Wait—if you hate her that much, I'll make her go!"

My footsteps halted, and I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes and took a steady breath, pressing a hand against my chest.

Then I spoke calmly. "You're going to be a father, Christian."

Silence fell on the other end of the line.

Forced to Come

Christian found me three days later.

I had just finished sorting out my passport when he saw a man escorting me into a car. His expression darkened instantly. He stormed over, yanked the door open, and dragged me out.

The man looked worried, but I only said, "Please go ahead without me, sir." He sighed, then left.

Christian took me into his car. His voice was rough when he spoke. "That baby isn't happening. I'll make sure of it."

He threw an ultrasound report at me. The fetus showed serious abnormalities, and the doctor had recommended termination.

For a moment, memory pulled me backward.

Christian had once sworn that he would only ever have children with me. He said I was his only love. If any other woman ever carried his child, he would curse the baby himself before letting it come into the world.

That curse finally became his reckoning. He had silently accepted Jasmine's pregnancy, and the sorrow in his eyes was unmistakable.

I felt no sympathy. Only cold amusement. "Suit yourself. You're rich enough to keep the baby alive if you want to."

My reaction came as a surprise. When I tried to leave, he grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his eyes.

"Why didn't you take my call? Why were you messing with another man?"

The fury in his eyes didn't burn my icy resolve. My voice came out as a hiss. "You have no right to ask me that. And this is the last time we see each other. Don't come near me again."

Christian didn't have an outburst, nor did he argue. Instead, he stared at me closely. In the end, he was sure he had me in his palm, and he chuckled.

"Is this your new trick? Staying quiet and planning your departure? But where can you even go if you don't have me backing you up?"

I returned his question with an unsettling stare. In the end, he was the first to look away.

I snickered. So this was how a couple wallowing in resentment ended up. I used to think this would never happen to me and Christian. Time had taught me otherwise.

I left the car, and Christian stepped on the gas without even hesitating. His car zoomed off, scraping the skin off my calf. I wondered if he was in a hurry to make love to someone in that jasmine garden.

Though my leg was injured, I still staggered back home. As I passed a lemon grove, ripe fruit fell around me, stirring memories I thought I had buried.

The bells chimed, and papers carrying messages of love fluttered from the garden.

'I love you so, so much, Nat!'

'I can't imagine what life would be like without you!'

The ink wasn't as vibrant as the day the words were written, and the papers were taking on a shade of yellow. It was an oath Christian wrote back when we were madly in love.

But the young, passionate man I once knew had long since been swallowed by the decadence and temptations of Imperia.

…

Three days before the departure. Christian had his assistant take me on a luxury cruise ship by force. His company's team-building event, but he never allowed me to take part.

His reason? To keep a close eye on me so I wouldn't mess things up.

It was plain now. Christian couldn't care less about my feelings. He didn't bother holding back and brought Jasmine home.

The woman was wearing a jacket on the outside, but underneath was a see-through outfit. She was going commando.

Jasmine would let out exaggerated giggles from time to time. Christian banged on my door after he was done messing with Jasmine. "Hey, make me a drink! I'm thirsty!"

I opened the door, still groggy from sleep.Then I looked at him with complete indifference. "You've been busy for quite a while," I said flatly. "Was she still not enough for you?"

Yes, I'm a Witch

Disbelief filled Christian's eyes, and the rims slowly turned red.

…

It was the day before I would depart for Asternis.

It was our anniversary, but Christian had forgotten about it, perhaps. He was already gone when morning came, just like he would in the years before.

I let out a quiet breath of relief.

The living room was nothing but a mess from the chaos that happened the night before. The air was thick with sex and bodily fluids. Disgusting as it was, I had to clean it up.

I had just finished wiping the floor when the door opened.

Before I could get up, Christian slammed his foot into my waist. There were stitched wounds from the miscarriage there, and I collapsed against the couch.

"Why did you do it, Natasha?"

Jasmine was crying in Christian's arms, and her eyes were filled with burning hatred. "I know you hate me for taking Christian away, but you should've come at me, not my baby!"

Jasmine's hatred coursed through her veins. Then she slapped me.

The stitch opened up, and I winced. My cheek was burning from pain and humiliation.

Christian hurled accusation after accusation at me, but I had no idea what I had supposedly done. I was going to leave very soon. There was no reason to sabotage anyone.

When his anger finally settled into something colder, he looked at me as if I were a stranger.

"I treated you like a queen, Natasha," he said icily. "And you bribed a servant to poison her food because you were jealous. The baby can't be saved now. You thought you were clever, but you left evidence."

My wound throbbed sharply. I tried to push myself up, but Christian stepped down on my hand.

"Do you even have any remorse, Natasha?"

His heart already belonged to someone else. Any explanation from me would only sound like another lie to him.

My silence infuriated him further. He dragged me upright and gripped my throat, his eyes dark with cruelty and despair.

"I already promised to keep her out of your sight," he said. "Why did you still go after her?"

It was hard, but I managed to speak a few words. "What… proof… do you… have?"

Christian sneered. "The servant killed herself after she confessed to her crimes. I don't think anyone would take their own life just to frame you, do you?"

I shook my head weakly. His sneer deepened.

"Her family was ill years ago, and you paid for their treatment. She owed you. She did your dirty work, then broke down because she still had a conscience."

'So that's the reality you came up with yourself?' I wondered.

In his eyes, I was already a vicious, scheming woman. No matter how many times I could explain myself, all Jasmine had to do was shed a tear, and my efforts would be erased.

The seas were howling behind me, the winds ramming straight into my back. They were trying to tell me something.

Yes, it was time to leave.

With a smile on my face, I pulled Christian's fingers away from my neck, one by one.

"Yes," I said softly. "It was me. I'm the evil witch."

Christian was dumbstruck, and I let out a low, hollow laugh. Then I picked up a fountain pen and pointed it toward Jasmine.

"She stole the man I loved," I said, my voice trembling with something close to madness. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear? That I hated her? That I wanted her gone, along with the child in her womb?"

Jasmine immediately shrank into Christian's arms.

There was disappointment in Christian's eyes. It was directed at me.

A sharp pain flashed through my wrist as Christian snatched the pen away. His face was terrifyingly cold as he pointed the pen at my stomach.

He let out a low, guttural sound. "Perhaps I've spared the rod and spoiled you too much."

The tip grazed my skin and drew droplets of blood. The pain was nothing more than a little sting, and it lasted for a mere moment.

Perhaps he thought he had spared me. Perhaps I should have been grateful.

Instead, I looked at Jasmine, then at Christian's cold, indifferent face. And for the first time in years, I felt relief.

I was finally free from this ruined love.

Without another word, I turned and jumped out of the floor-to-ceiling window. The rolling seas accepted me in its chilling embrace.

The cold swallowed me whole, and only one thought remained.

'Goodbye, Christian.'