After Knowing I Was Infertile, My Husband Dumped Me

My uncle had long held a grudge against me over the company shares—especially after I flatly refused to let his son join the company.

Now, this birthday gathering had handed him the perfect excuse to criticize me in public.

Moments later, Romina—Kiara’s mother—descended the staircase in a peach dress, playing the part of the peacemaker.

“You’ve misunderstood Bianca,” she said gently. “That tea set was something her father has wanted for years. Bianca remembered and chose today to surprise him. It was a thoughtful gift.”

The mood around the room lightened slightly. But all I felt was disgust—burning, bitter hatred.

“I don’t need you to speak for me,” I snapped. “You—the homewrecker who destroyed my family—what right do you have to speak on my behalf?”

I forced myself upright and shoved the tea set off the table.

The crash of ceramic shattering against the floor echoed through the room, each shard a testament to my fury.

My father’s face darkened. He slapped me across the face and growled in a low, furious voice, “You ungrateful brat! She’s your mother now. Apologize to her!”

“That's too much, Bianca.” Winston grabbed my arm, scowling in confusion. “This gift was Kiara’s idea. She just wanted to ease things between you and your father. She’s always thinking of you, and yet you trample all over her kindness.”

Everyone in the room was staring at me—disappointment, disdain, and disgust flickering in their eyes.

Romina lowered her head and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, pretending to cry. Meanwhile, Kiara—furious—picked up the broken pieces of the tea set and flung them at my feet.

“Enough, Bianca! My mother and I have tolerated you for years. I’ve always treated you like a sister, always put your feelings first. And this is how you repay our kindness? Your mother’s suicide was due to her own depression—what does that have to do with us? Stop acting like the victim!”

Trembling with rage, I slapped Kiara hard across the face. Her sheer audacity left me speechless.

“You want to air this out in public? Fine, let’s do it.”

I turned to the stunned crowd. “Let me tell you how Romina destroyed my mother. She seduced a married man, tore apart our family. My mother didn’t just fall into depression—she was pushed, day after day, until she jumped off that balcony.”

“And our father—where was he? A month after my mother’s death, he moved this woman and her five-year-old daughter into our home! Five years old. You really think their affair was just a coincidence?”

The moment I said it, Winston rushed to Kiara’s side, wrapping her in his arms like a hero defending his damsel.

“Bianca, today is your father's birthday. Why must you go this far? What happened was years ago—can’t you let it go? Kiara had nothing to do with any of it!”

I stared at him, eyes burning from unshed tears. Then I laughed.

A laugh full of bitterness, mockery, pain, and despair.

“Let it go?” I echoed. “You’re asking me to let it go when you weren’t the one who lost everything. Of course it’s easy for you to say.”

“I want everyone to see clearly: the mother was a shameless homewrecker, and her daughter is just as despicable.”

“Enough!” Winston shouted, and the next thing I knew, his palm crashed across my face again.

My ears rang. The slap left a sting so sharp it felt like fire.

Blood welled in my mouth.

“You’ve gone too far,” I said hoarsely, my voice breaking with disappointment. “You’ve all gone too far.”

My cane slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull, final thud—echoing my heartbreak.

My father’s face was twisted in fury. There was no sympathy in his eyes—only hatred and regret.

“Get out!” he barked. “Get out of this house and never come back! I regret ever having a daughter like you. You’re not even a tenth of what your sister is. If your mother had taken you with her that night and jumped, maybe I wouldn’t be stuck with you now!”

Tears blurred my vision, and I laughed while crying—half in madness, half in sorrow.

I didn’t pick up the cane. I simply walked out of the house—step by painful step.

Winston and Kiara chased after me, each grabbing an arm to "help" me.

But I knew better.

One of them felt guilty for hitting me.

The other just wanted to see me humiliated.

I shook them off, only to lose my balance and fall to the ground.

Winston instinctively reached for me, trying to pull me up.

I shoved him away hard.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Bianca, can you not be so dramatic? You just had to ruin a perfectly good birthday, didn’t you? Seriously—how much is enough for you?”