For His Missing Ex, I Lost Nine Months of Pregnancy

Saylor’s POV

I turned and went to the hospital to reclaim my child’s body. Before taking everything else back, I wanted to personally arrange his funeral.

The nurse I spoke to froze for a second. Her expression shifted into something so strange, so unsettling, that it made my stomach drop.

“Your child has already been taken, Ma’am,” she said carefully.

My heart skipped a beat. “By who?”

“By his father. Mr. Cortland came with the paperwork… He said he wanted to take the child home to handle the postmortem arrangements.”

“What?”

The word tore from my throat in a scream. My mind went blank, a ringing noise exploding in my ears. I staggered back a few steps, barely staying upright.

Why did Cortland take my child’s body?

I didn’t even have time to respond to the nurse’s attempts to stop me. I stumbled outside, flagged down a passing car, and rushed straight to the Dorances estate.

The front gates were wide open. A faint scent of smoke hung in the air.

The moment I stepped into the courtyard, it felt like lightning had struck me.

Right in the center of the courtyard, the Dorances had formed a circle. A brass fire basin sat in the middle, flames roaring inside it. And held in a pair of long tongs, about to be placed into the fire—was a pure white box.

My pupils contracted sharply. I nearly lost my mind.

“Stop!” I screamed.

I charged forward like a madwoman. But just as I reached out, someone shoved me to the ground with brutal force.

“Saylor! What the hell are you doing!?”

It was Cortland.

I fell hard, my forehead slamming against the stone pavement. Blood gushed down my face, but I didn’t feel a thing.

My voice was hoarse. “What are you doing?! That’s my child! Why are you burning him here?! Even if you’re cremating him, it should be at a crematorium!”

“He’s already dead. What’s the point of keeping him around?” Cortland’s tone was cold, as if he were talking about a broken toy. “He’s just an eyesore.”

“That’s enough, Saylor. Stop making a scene.”

Ysabella, his mother, stepped forward, her face wearing a mask of fake kindness. She’d never truly liked me—a daughter-in-law who was strong, independent, and unwilling to play the docile housewife.

Her ideal daughter-in-law was one who stayed home, bore children, and served her son. Not someone like me, a businesswoman who fought her way to the top.

Before, she kept up appearances because of my wealth. But now, her true self showed through.

“Dear, we’re doing this for your own good. We invited a spiritual master. He said the child needs to be cremated and blessed by family, or his soul won’t find peace and be reborn into a better life.”

Her tone turned sharp. “His death was inauspicious. What if it brings misfortune to Thalia’s baby? As my daughter-in-law, you should understand these things, shouldn’t you?”

Suddenly, my body froze.

I turned my head to look at Thalia, who was standing quietly at the edge of the crowd, her gaze lowered in submission.

She gently rested a hand on her belly. A fragile yet triumphant smile appeared on her lips.

“Saylor,” she said softly, “I’m already three months pregnant. Don’t be too sad. Cortland says from now on, we’ll be a real family.”

Three months…

Oh, that’s why. That’s why Cortland hit me as soon as I got pregnant.

He’d been waiting for her pregnancy to stabilize. Once it had, my child became disposable.

Cortland’s expression remained unreadable. He said flatly, “It’s done. The child’s been dealt with. You lost the baby and your health has suffered. The doctor said you won’t be able to carry a second one.”

He glanced at Thalia. “Her child will be the Dorances’s only heir.”

“Saylor,” he added, lips curling into a sneer, “you’d better get a grip on reality. Don’t make a fuss. If you still want to be ‘Mrs. Dorance,’ you’ll behave and take care of Thalia. Stop acting jealous for no reason.”

Blood dripped down the side of my face. My vision was tinged with red.

It felt like every ounce of strength in my body had been sucked out. But still, I forced myself to stand.

My voice trembled, filled with despair.

“Cortland. I want a divorce.”

His face turned dark instantly. “A divorce? You’re threatening me with that again?”

For some reason, he absolutely loathed the word divorce.

Without warning, he grabbed the white box—my baby’s ashes—that still hadn’t been placed into the fire.

“You want a divorce?” he snapped. “Fine. Then let’s start with him. Clean break. No loose ends.”

Just like that, he hurled the box into the fire.

“No!”

I screamed and lunged toward the flames, but they held me back.

I could only watch as the fire consumed the box, reducing it to ashes, until even the final traces had crumbled into dust.

“You’re insane, Cortland!” I shrieked, my voice broken.

He looked down at me coldly. “You don’t get to use divorce as leverage anymore.”

“The money you loaned the Dorances,” he said, “I’ll return all of it today. From now on, we’re done. You have no more say in the company, and no right to order me around.”

“If you still don’t know your place,” he threatened, “don’t blame me for turning on you.”

I couldn’t hear a thing anymore.

I just knelt there in front of the fire basin, watching the thin, weak smoke spiral up and scatter in the wind.

The fire was out.

My child… was gone. Not even a complete set of ashes remained.

His little body, burned with plastic and paper, had been turned to shattered dust…

I never thought Cortland could hate me this much.

When I married him, I brought a massive amount. Even that wasn’t enough to save the Dorance Industries from collapse.

I didn’t want to put too much pressure on him, so behind the scenes, I created a second identity to invest in his company.

But apparently, even just the dowry was enough for him to resent me…

I bent down, carefully gathering the ashes, tiny bit by tiny bit, and wrapped them in a white cloth I had brought with me.

Just then, a mocking snort came from behind.

“I knew it. You could never leave me.”

He must’ve thought I was only emotional when I brought up the divorce. Now that I never said it again, Cortland’s eyes gleamed with contempt.

“Still pretending to be cold? You really think that’ll make me treat you better?”