Eight Years Wasted She Chose Him the Night Before Our Wedding

Before leaving, he shot me a cold look.

"Wilfred, I never thought you could be this vicious. Laying hands on a pregnant woman?"

Carrie curled into his arms, glaring at me with pure venom.

"Wilfred, you think I'll marry you just because the baby's gone? Keep dreaming."

"If anything happens to Graham's child, there's no future for us either."

I watched their retreating figures and murmured, "There's no future for us. There hasn't been for a long time."

By the time I finished sweeping up the broken glass, the cut on the top of my foot had already stopped bleeding on its own.

But the wound in my chest was still raw and open.

The suffocating weight pressing against my ribs pushed me to a decision. I called several of the company's shareholders.

When they heard I wanted to sell my thirty-percent stake, every one of them expressed interest.

I told them to name their price. Highest bidder wins.

Half an hour later, I signed a share-transfer agreement with the CTO.

She was capable and ambitious, yet Carrie had always kept her at arm's length. With my shares, she would become the company's largest stakeholder.

I hoped Carrie would enjoy the wedding gift I'd prepared for her.

My phone buzzed again. The wedding planner.

The emcee sounded irritated. "Mr. Simmons, what exactly is going on with you two? First you cancel the wedding, then you want it back on, but everything at the venue's already been tossed in the dumpster per your instructions. What am I supposed to do at this hour?"

I felt bad for the trouble, but none of it was my doing.

I apologized to the emcee and offered a suggestion. "My wedding with her is definitely off. I won't ask you to refund anything. As for Carrie wanting the wedding back on, you can have her place a new order."

"Ms. Delgado will have my head."

"She'll pay. Trust me."

Because she truly wanted to marry Graham.

By the time I hung up, it was two in the morning.

I abandoned the idea of going home to say goodbye to my mother and took a cab to a hotel near the airport instead.

The emcee texted me a thank-you, saying Carrie had been furious but did end up paying again.

I smiled faintly, set an alarm, and collapsed into bed.

But my phone was immediately bombarded with calls from Graham.

I blocked his number, powered off the phone, and went back to sleep.

Until frantic pounding erupted at the door.

"Wilfred! Open up!"

The moment I heard Carrie's voice, I realized I'd forgotten to turn off our couples' location sharing.

Her voice was thick with rage. Unbidden, the image of Graham deliberately pulling her down flashed through my mind.

Had she actually lost the baby?

Or was she here because I'd sold my shares?

The next second, the hotel room door was kicked open.

Carrie stormed in, eyes bloodshot, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me toward the door.

"I miscarried because you pushed me, and Graham's hurt too. How can you just lie here sleeping?"

I struggled, trying to explain. "I didn't push anyone. He threw himself into you on purpose—"

But Carrie shoved me into the car.

"That was his baby in my belly. Why would he do it on purpose?"

She locked the doors and floored it all the way to the hospital.

She forced me to my knees at the foot of Graham's hospital bed.

"Apologize to Graham. And swear you'll never interfere with me having his children again."

My kneecaps hit the ice-cold tile, and the pain and chill spread through my entire body.

I tried to stand, but Carrie's hand pressed down on my shoulder, pinning me in place.

"Cat got your tongue? Apologize to Graham. Now."

I fought through the discomfort and spoke, word by measured word.

"I didn't push him. If you don't believe me, go back and get the security footage from the neighbor's camera."

The camera mounted above the neighbor's front door would have captured every second of Graham's little performance.