Be Happy without me, Ex husband

The day we were supposed to reveal the gender of our baby was the day I lost it. But rather than grieving with me, my husband Trevor humiliated me in front of everyone.

"I knew you couldn't handle this," Trevor had spat. "You can't even keep a pregnancy, Amber. How were you ever going to run a company and raise a child? You’re incompetent."

That was six hours ago.

Now, I lay in a private room, staring at the sterile white ceiling. The physical pain was a dull throb, managed by whatever drip they had hooked into my arm, but the mental clarity was sharpening. The doctor told me they didn’t even know what was wrong—it was just the baby was gone suddenly.

I reached for the call button, but stopped when I heard voices just outside the door.

"She’s waking up soon," a deep voice said. It was Dr. Evans. He had been my OB-GYN for years. "Physically, she will recover fine, Trevor. There was no permanent damage to the uterus."

"That’s not what I need to hear," Trevor’s voice replied. "We talked about this."

"Trevor, it’s unethical," Dr. Evans said, though he sounded weak. "She’s young. She can try again."

"No," Trevor cut him off. "She can’t. Listen to me. You are going to tell her that the trauma was too severe. You are going to tell her she is barren. Tell her the scarring is extensive and she will never carry a child to term again. That it was her fault."

The breath caught in my lungs.

"If you tell her that," Trevor continued, "she will break. She’s already fragile. She defines herself by this. If she thinks she’s broken, she’ll spiral. She’ll grieve, she’ll go crazy, and she’ll be unfit to run the company. I need her removed from her own company, Evans. And this is the fastest way to do it."

I closed my eyes, a single tear leaking out. Smith Inc. The company my parents had built from the ground up. The company I had taken over at twenty-two when they died in that plane crash.

The company that paid for the suit Trevor was wearing, the car he drove, and the life he lived.

When I met Trevor in college, he was on a scholarship, working two jobs just to eat. I thought he loved me. I thought I was helping him build a life with me. I didn't realize I was just an investment he was waiting to cash out.

I slowly lowered my hand back to the mattress. I turned my head away from the door, facing the window. I forced my breathing to remain shallow and even.

When Dr. Evans came in ten minutes later, I played my part. I listened as he lied to my face. I listened as he told me my womb was destroyed. I cried, not because of his diagnosis, but because of the betrayal that was rotting my life from the inside out. Trevor stood in the corner, looking somber, playing the grieving husband perfectly.

When I thought, that was worse. I learned the truth the moment I went home.

"Did she buy it?" a female voice asked. I knew that voice. It was Caroline. My best friend since kindergarten. The maid of honor at my wedding. The woman who had held my hand when my parents died.

"The doctor's story?"

"Hook, line, and sinker," Trevor laughed. It was a cruel, barking sound. "She thinks she's broken. She’s going to hand the company over to me within the week. She won't have the fight left in her to resist."

"Finally," Caroline groaned. "I am so sick of waiting, Trevor. I’m sick of watching you play house with her. I want what you promised me."

"You'll get it," Trevor said. "Once I have control of the board, I can divorce her for mental instability. I get the assets, I get the company, and I get you."

There was a rustling of fabric, then the sound of a kiss. Wet and desperate.

"Come on," Caroline whispered, her voice dropping an octave. "Just a quick one. While the bitch is not yet here. She’s probably dragging her feet up the driveway."

"We can't," Trevor said, though he didn't sound convincing. "We can't risk being caught right now. She is on her way in from the hospital. She could walk in any second."

"So?" Caroline challenged. "Let her walk in. What is she going to do? She’s weak, Trevor. You said it yourself."

"Not yet. We need the signature on the power of attorney first."

There was a pause. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. I gripped the fabric of my dress, my knuckles turning white.

"Are you sure that's all?" Caroline asked, her voice changing. It became sharper, colder. "Or are you feeling guilty now?"

"Guilty? Why would I be guilty?"

"Because," Caroline said, the smile audible in her voice, "you killed your own child with her just to have our own child."