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After Seven Years of Loving You, I Choose Myself Novel Cover

After Seven Years of Loving You, I Choose Myself

After years of endless patience, I am finally done waiting for Warren Stephens. When he demands I step aside so he can legally marry his pregnant ex-girlfriend to protect her reputation, he expects my usual compliance. Instead, I return his family's heirloom ring and silently destroy my own pregnancy test. Warren has no idea that my lost memories returned a month ago. I am actually the long-lost daughter of the Capital’s wealthiest tycoon, and my family is coming to take me home.
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Chapter 2

Warren stared at my outstretched hand holding the unity locket. His pupils contracted sharply, and for a long moment he looked too stunned to speak.

The veins on his clenched fists bulged. He was about to turn his fury on me when Georgina let out a soft whimper in his arms, her face draining of color.

"Warren... my stomach hurts so bad... I think it's the baby..."

His expression flipped in an instant. Every trace of anger dissolved into panic. He scooped her up and rushed for the door, footsteps frantic, without sparing me a single glance.

He didn't see that his shove had sent me stumbling backward, the edge of the table slamming into my lower back hard enough to leave a wide red welt.

The sharp pain shot through my entire body.

He cradled Georgina, his voice trembling with urgency. "Hold on. We're going to the hospital."

The door slammed shut.

The contempt and ridicule of every guest in the room crashed over me like a wave.

"She really doesn't know her place. An orphan with no parents, no power, no connections, and she actually thought she could become Mrs. Stephens?"

"Kept as a pretty little pet for a few years and started believing she was royalty."

"Mr. Stephens never forgot Georgie. The second she came back, this one became nothing."

"She even dared to push a pregnant woman. She'll be thrown out soon enough. Probably end up as nothing more than a bedwarmer."

Every filthy word burrowed into my ears.

I kept my face blank, picked up a glass of champagne from the table, took a sip, then raised my hand and threw the rest straight into the nearest socialite's face.

"Your husband's mistresses could circle the city. Maybe worry about your own house before you come for mine."

The woman shrieked and lunged at me.

I loosened my grip and let the glass shatter against the floor. The room went silent.

After all, everyone here knew what I was capable of. I'd walked through fire beside Warren for years.

I dusted off my hands, turned, and walked straight upstairs.

Behind the closed door of my room, I ran into the bathroom and let ice-cold water pour over my head.

The pain and the memories surged up together.

Seven years ago, the Fox family was targeted by old enemies. I was kidnapped. A car accident gave me a chance to escape in the chaos, but I fell into a river. Warren was the one who pulled me out and brought me home.

When I opened my eyes, I couldn't remember a thing. Back then, nightmares jolted me awake every single night.

He would hold me tight and murmur softly against my hair.

"Don't be scared. If you can't remember, don't force it."

After that, I stood by his side as he secured the Stephens family inheritance and helped him destroy every last enemy.

Then a member of a rival branch of the Stephens clan disguised himself as a server and came for Warren's life, determined to seize control.

In that split second, I threw myself in front of him.

He held me, drenched in my blood, shaking, crying like a child.

"Why would you do something so stupid? What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?"

Afterward, he tracked down every person who'd hurt me, broke their hands and legs, and tossed them into an underground fighting ring.

He swore to me he would give me the grandest wedding anyone had ever seen.

Back then, he truly loved me down to the bone.

I rinsed off quickly and stepped out.

Warren was back.

The moment he saw me, he pulled me into his arms without a word, resting his chin in the curve of my neck.

When he spoke, his voice carried the relief of someone who'd just exhaled.

"Georgie and the baby are fine, thankfully. Don't cause a scene like that again."

I let out a quiet laugh. I didn't answer.

Then he bit down on my earlobe, a flash of anger in it.

"Why did you give her the locket? You know how much it means to us."

"Isn't this what you wanted? For me to be good and understanding." My voice was barely above a whisper. "I did exactly that. You're still not happy?"

Warren went rigid. Something complicated flickered through his eyes.

He let out a low sigh and tried to explain.

"You're the only one I love. But Georgie was captured trying to save me all those years ago. They locked her up and brutalized her for three days and three nights. She was too afraid to come back for eight full years. Now she's pregnant and unmarried. I have to protect her reputation. I have to take care of her."

"Just trust me. Once the baby's born, I'll send her away. The ring, the locket, everything comes back to you."

Wait. Again.

Wait for him to take power. Wait for his mother to accept me. Wait for him to finish dealing with someone else.

He always used love as a leash, keeping me in place, wringing out every last drop of my devotion and patience.

But the truth was, I'd stopped mattering to him a long time ago.

His phone rang, cutting through the silence.

He frowned and answered.

A frantic voice came through the other end. "Mr. Stephens, Ms. Pruitt is having night terrors. She won't stop crying and keeps asking for you."

Warren released me instantly and stood, his face tight with worry, already heading for the door.

At the threshold, something seemed to occur to him. He turned back and looked at me, his tone solemn.

"Someday, we'll have children too."

One sentence. That was all it took, and he expected it to keep me tethered to him.

I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes, searching for even the faintest trace of love.

There was none. Not even a flicker.

I watched his retreating back, then lowered my head. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

I picked up my phone and sent a message to the hospital:

Move my surgery to the earliest available slot.

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