On the third day after my abortion, Maxton Lewis said he would take me out to unwind. I didn’t expect him to drive me to a hotel.

The moment he opened the door to the private room, the pungent smell of alcohol filled the air, making me pause.

"Maxton, they forced me to drink, but I’m allergic to alcohol," Priscilla Carter cried.

Maxton wrapped an arm around her protectively and said, "Don’t worry; she will drink the rest for you."

Without warning, he turned to me and shoved me toward the table laden with drinks. I stumbled, catching the table's edge as a bottle tipped over and shattered on the floor.

"Priscilla isn’t feeling well. You drink this for her.”

I clutched my still-aching stomach and looked at him, disbelief flashing in my eyes. "Maxton, you know I just had surgery."

"Cut the act," he sneered, his lips curling cruelly. "Three years ago, you had a stomach bleed and still managed to drink two bottles. Do you think I’d fall for this now?"

The sharp edge of his sarcasm sliced through me like a blade. All the pent-up pain, humiliation and betrayal roared to life inside me, rising like a tidal wave.

I slapped him, the sound echoing in the room like thunder. "Enough," I said, my voice trembling with fury. Without waiting for his reaction, I turned on my heel and walked out, leaving behind the shattered remains of what I once thought was love.

Maxton grabbed my hand, his grip firm. "Solana, don’t get ahead of yourself. Do you really think you’re still pure? You’ve lost the child in your belly. Who would want someone as worthless as you after leaving me? Be good and drink for Priscilla. I still need you."

At that moment, whatever remained of the love I once felt for him shattered into irreparable pieces. Without a word, I chose to walk away.

But later, desperation consumed him. Maxton, once so arrogant, begged like a madman for my return.

——

"Wife, don’t hold onto your anger about the child. I’ve prepared a surprise for you. Let me show you."

His voice held a strange sincerity and the smile that had disappeared for so long unexpectedly returned.

Even as my heart ached, lost in the sorrow of what I had endured, I found myself sitting in his car, his promises of a surprise clouding my thoughts.

"Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon," he said, a flicker of reassurance in his voice as he answered a call. His expression darkened and he pressed hard on the accelerator without warning.

Watching his furrowed brows and tight expression, I couldn’t help but ask, "Is something wrong with work? If it’s urgent, you should take care of it."

He smiled, his gaze softening as he replied, "Even if the sky falls today, I’ll still take you there."

His words carried an unwavering determination as he clasped my hand in his. The warmth of his palm wrapped around my cold fingers and for a fleeting moment, the ache of losing my child dulled.

When we arrived at the hotel, he stepped out first, swiftly opening my door thoughtfully. Holding my hand, he guided me toward a private room he had carefully arranged in advance.

But as the door creaked open, the surprise I had hoped for dissolved instantly. A crowd of drunken men greeted me instead, their rowdy laughter echoing through the room.

The stench of alcohol mingled with greasy food assaulted my senses, churning my stomach and making me nauseous.

"Maxton, they forced me to drink, but I’m allergic to alcohol."

Priscilla dashed toward Maxton the moment she saw him, tears streaming as she buried herself in his arms, disregarding my presence entirely.

I was on the verge of losing control when a voice rang out from the table, dripping with mockery. "Priscilla has been completely pampered by Maxton. She won’t even share a glass of wine with us. Is it because Maxton loves her more than we do?"

Maxton immediately shielded Priscilla, his movements tender as he wiped away her tears and murmured reassuringly, "Don’t worry. I’ll handle the rest of the drinks for you."

With that, he turned to me. Without warning, he shoved me hard, his strength unrelenting. I staggered toward the table, barely keeping my balance.

The sharp ache in my lower abdomen flared as I collided with the edge of the table, sending wine bottles crashing to the ground. My body, still fragile from the recent procedure, struggled to bear the brunt of the blow.

"Priscilla isn’t feeling well," Maxton said coldly, his voice cutting through my pain. "Drink the rest for her."

As I stood there, trembling and unsteady, a drunken man with a glass in hand approached, his grin leering. "Well, if Priscilla won’t drink, why don’t you keep us company instead?"

Clutching my aching lower belly, I fixed my gaze on Maxton, who was busy comforting Priscilla. My voice trembled with restrained fury as I reminded him, "You know perfectly well that I just had surgery."

Even as the words escaped my lips, a drunken man lunged toward me. Without hesitation, I shoved him away, the anger bubbling within me, fueling my strength.

When I refused, Maxton's face twisted with disgust. "Still pretending? Three years ago, when you had a stomach bleed, you downed two bottles like it was nothing. Do you really think I'll believe you now?"

The sarcasm in his voice ignited the simmering anger buried deep within me. I yanked free from the drunken man’s grip, fury blinding me as I marched up to Maxton. Without a second thought, I slapped him with all the strength I could muster and turned to leave.

From the safety of Maxton's arms, Priscilla peered at me with mock innocence. "Maxton, Solana says she's not feeling well. If she truly can’t drink, I’ll drink instead. I can just go to the hospital for an IV afterward," she murmured pitifully.

Maxton’s grip on my wrist tightened painfully, his gaze sharp and merciless. "Look at Priscilla, then look at yourself," he sneered. "It’s just a few drinks. Will it kill you?"

His words cut deeper than his harsh grip, which had turned my wrist red. My struggles only seemed to amuse him further. "Solana, I’m giving you face here. Do you still think you’re some kind of saint? You’ve already lost a child; who else would want you, this worthless piece of trash? Be good and drink for Priscilla. You know I still need you."

Sensing the fury in Maxton’s expression, Priscilla clutched his hand with trembling fingers. "Maxton, please don’t be angry. Solana might still resent me. It’s my fault for being thoughtless. If you’re upset, blame me for being useless and failing to help you," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.

As her sobs grew louder, Maxton released my wrist and turned to wipe her tears, his earlier anger melting into concern.

The men at the table, noticing the rising tension, hurried to pull Maxton back to his seat.

Seizing the moment, I shoved the door open and stepped out without looking back.

"Looks like she’s truly upset. Aren’t you going to comfort her?" one of them teased.

Maxton’s voice, dripping with scorn, carried after me. "No need. Trust me, she’ll come crawling back like a dog, begging for forgiveness."

His words cut through me like a knife, my fists clenching so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. The ache in my chest deepened, splintering the last fragile threads of love I had for him.

But Maxton was wrong this time. He would never see me crawl back—not now, not ever.

On the way home in a taxi, my stomach churned with pain, cold sweat trickling down my back.

"Miss, are you okay? Should I take you to a hospital?" the driver asked, his worried gaze catching my pale reflection in the mirror.

I weakly shook my head, forcing a faint smile. "No, it’s fine. Just take me to the address I gave you."

Before I could say another word, darkness swallowed me whole.

When I came to, the sterile white walls of a hospital surrounded me. The driver stood anxiously by my bedside; his concern etched across his face.

When I opened my eyes, the man sighed in relief, his tense shoulders relaxing. "Little girl, if you weren’t feeling well, you should’ve visited the hospital earlier. You really frightened me. Luckily, it was just a false alarm. I bought you some cereal and the fees are already taken care of."

After explaining everything, he stood up, ready to leave.

My gaze fell on the steaming bowl of cereal on the table and tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.

From the moment of that unplanned abortion until now, the first ounce of care I received came from a stranger.

Just as warmth began to fill the cracks in my heart, my phone vibrated. The screen lit up with Maxton’s name.

Without hesitation, I turned it off, refusing to answer as I once would have.

I lay motionless in bed for what felt like an eternity, mustering enough strength to finally drag myself to the doctor’s office.

"Solana, you just went through an abortion," Dr. Huxley said, his voice calm but firm as he reviewed my records. "You can’t afford to let your emotions spiral like this. Thankfully, you came in time today; another delay could’ve cost you your life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with concern, as I quietly asked to be discharged.

Dr. Huxley’s brows lifted in surprise, though his tone remained steady. "Do you really want to leave? In your condition, I strongly advise staying for further observation."

But my resolve didn’t waver. Seeing my determination, he exhaled sharply, the creases on his forehead deepening. "Fine," he relented, though his disapproval was clear.

"Solana, where are your family members? They need to come in.”

As Dr. Huxley jotted down medical instructions, he glanced at the nurse and said to call my family.

The nurse hesitated before responding, "Doctor, her husband just left."

Those words made my heart lurch. I immediately stood and clarified, "That wasn’t my husband. He’s just a kind taxi driver who helped me. You’ve misunderstood."

Dr. Huxley frowned, his tone curious yet gentle. "Then where’s your husband? You’ve just undergone an abortion. Why isn’t he here with you?"

The memory of Maxton drinking with Priscilla flashed through my mind. My chest tightened and sorrow coated my voice as I replied, "My husband was arrested for committing a crime."

Dr. Huxley noticed the pain etched on my face and wisely chose not to probe further. Instead, he sighed softly and said, "Solana, no matter what storms life throws your way, you must prioritize your health."

Leaving the obstetrics ward, I collected my prescribed medicine and headed to the elevator. But when the doors slid open, my breath hitched. There they were, Maxton and Priscilla, entwined in a passionate kiss, oblivious to the world.

The sight made my stomach churn and I instinctively turned to walk away.

But Maxton caught sight of me. He quickly released Priscilla and reached out, his hand stretching toward me as if to pull me back.

Without hesitation, I pressed the elevator’s close button and clutched the medicine tightly, hurrying away before he could catch me.

As I descended the hospital stairwell, a sense of relief washed over me, thinking I had finally escaped those two scumbags.

But as I pushed open the door to the first-floor stairs, a force stronger than anything I’d expected yanked me out.

I looked up and froze. Maxton’s eyes met mine, filled with a searing rage that sent a chill down my spine.

"Solana, what’s your game? Why did you intentionally close the elevator door and let Priscilla get trapped in it?"

Before I could react, he shoved me hard against the wall, his hands wrapping around my throat, his grip tightening with each breath I struggled to take.

"I didn’t," I gasped, fighting with every ounce of my strength to pry his hands away. "I didn’t see her get trapped when I left."

"Still lying?" His voice was venomous and the fury in his eyes promised nothing short of punishment. "Today, I’ll teach you a lesson."

A sharp slap echoed in the stairwell, the impact sending a ringing shock through my skull. Blood began to trickle from the corner of my mouth, the metallic taste sharp on my tongue.

His face twisted in fury, his anger so raw I feared he might tear me apart.

"Maxton, it hurts..."

Priscilla’s voice, strained with pain, cut through the air.

Maxton immediately released me, rushing to her side, his voice soft as he checked her wounds.

"Maxton, look! I lost so much hair. You have to make her pay for this," Priscilla sobbed, her eyes shimmering with false tears as she looked to him for support.

He turned back to me, a sneer on his face. With deliberate cruelty, he stepped on my hand, grinding it beneath his shoe.

From above, he glared down at me, his words dripping with disdain. "Look at what you’ve caused, all because of your malice. How much pain has Priscilla suffered? Apologize to her."

I stared at Maxton, my voice sharp and defiant. "She only lost a few strands of hair. Is this how you're going to treat me?"

Priscilla, her eyes red and swollen, glared at me with a fury that stung. "Solana, I know you hate me, but I didn’t expect you to be so cruel. If Maxton hadn’t pulled me away, I would’ve been crushed by the elevator."

Their words stirred a crowd of onlookers and suddenly, the air was thick with accusations. People began pointing fingers, convinced I had intentionally trapped Priscilla in the elevator.

"This young woman is heartless! The elevator could’ve killed her!"

"They have no reason to be fighting, so why would she try to hurt anyone?"

"Exactly! The man’s doing the right thing. If his wife is being bullied, he has to teach her a lesson."

An older woman took Priscilla aside, her voice soft with reassurance. "Don’t worry, dear. With so many witnesses, we’ll make sure you get justice. This injustice won’t stand."

Maxton’s boot pressed down hard on my palm, his patience wearing thin. "Solana, why are you so stubborn? Everyone here is saying you’re in the wrong and you still won’t admit it?"