After My Miscarriage, I Divorced the CEO Who Faked His Silence

Inside the hospital room, Chester grabbed IV tubing and bound my wrists so I couldn't run.

He pulled it tight. The sharp pain traveled along every nerve and settled somewhere deep in my chest.

A nurse wheeled in the blood-draw equipment, shock and hesitation plain on her face.

"Sir, this is..."

He cut her off instantly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Leave it. She's emotional—I restrained her so she wouldn't hurt herself. Draw the blood. The type's a match."

The nurse looked at the scene in front of her and couldn't stop herself from speaking up.

"But she only just had a miscarriage. Drawing blood now could do real damage to her body..."

Chester interrupted impatiently. "Enough. Glenda's situation is more urgent."

"My wife can be looked after properly later."

Those careless words—an ice-tipped blade, slipped between my ribs and driven straight into the softest place in my chest.

I stopped struggling. I let them push the needle into the back of my hand.

Warm blood flowed through the clear tubing into the collection bag.

Even that wasn't fast enough for him. He snapped at the nurse to switch to a thicker needle.

He stared at the filling bag, not bothering to hide how badly he needed every last drop.

When the draw was finished, the nurse pressed a cotton swab over the puncture and spoke gently.

"Ma'am, please get plenty of rest. Avoid any strenuous activity for the time being..."

Before she could finish, Chester had already snatched the blood bag and was running toward the emergency room.

He didn't look back at me once.

I don't know how long passed before the light above the emergency room went off.

*The patient is out of danger.* Chester's rigid face finally cracked—a slow exhale, a smile of sheer relief.

He thanked the doctor again and again, almost absurdly humble.

Only then did he remember I existed.

He reached out to touch me. I turned my head away.

This time he didn't get angry. If anything, he looked pleased with himself.

"Good thing you were here. Name it—whatever you want, it's yours."

I held out the printed divorce agreement. "I only want one thing. Your signature."

Right then, nurses wheeled Glenda out.

She called Chester's name, her voice thin and weak.

He didn't even look at what I'd handed him. He signed without a second's pause.

The moment he finished, he strode to Glenda's side and murmured something gentle.

"Don't be scared, Glenda. I'm here. I'll stay with you."

I clutched the signed agreement and disappeared down the corridor.

A month later, Glenda was discharged.

Only then did Chester realize I hadn't contacted him in a very long time.

He'd barely finished sending me a message when his secretary hurried in.

"President Delgado—the partners are pulling out. All of them. They're saying—"