He Broke Me First, Now I'm the Rising Queen

"No, something unexpected happened this time, but it'll be soon. I'll contact you then."

Just as I hung up, the hospital room door was pushed open.

Jonathan stood at the door, his eyes fixed on my gentle features. This was the first time in the past two years that he had seen me smile without a bitter and resentful expression.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Wendy's morning sickness is pretty bad."

He offered the explanation out of nowhere, but his gaze lingered on my phone by the bed. “I have to go back and take care of her.”

I knew he wanted to ask who had called me, but he eventually held it back.

Because asking would mean he still cared about me, which would bruise his ego.

He grabbed his suit off the couch and tossed it out. "Something urgent came up at work. I'll come to see you tomorrow."

After the door closed, I counted the drops of medicine falling from the IV drip. One drop, two drops.

Just like counting the lies he'd told me over the past seven years.

In Jonathan's world, "tomorrow" was a day that would never come.

Three days passed and Jonathan never appeared. Instead, a constant stream of videos came from our mutual friends.

He was at a charity gala with his arm around Wendy's waist, feeding her dessert at a Michelin-starred restaurant and kissing her growing baby bump on a yacht.

On the day I was discharged, a new post popped up on my feed.

Jonathan had posted a grid of nine photos.

He was kneeling in the middle of a lavender field with his ear pressed to Wendy's belly. The caption read, "Waiting for our little princess."

The sunlight was perfect and the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Wendy could melt ice.

The comments section was filled with cheerful remarks calling Wendy beautiful.

He hadn't blocked me, so I clicked "like."

My phone vibrated instantly, Jonathan's name flashing on the screen.

I didn't answer. I slipped my phone into my bag and handled the discharge procedures alone.

I heard a familiar laugh as I walked towards the obstetrics and gynecology department entrance.

"Mrs. Wendy, your husband is so considerate."

A young nurse at the reception desk said, her face full of admiration.

"He's been coming with you to every prenatal checkup! Even a heat pack for the ultrasound was brought so you wouldn't get cold."

I froze. My fingers instinctively brushed over my flat stomach.

There was a time when Jonathan had been just as anxious about me, just as meticulously caring.

In fact, I got pregnant once after that time.

But before I could tell him the good news, I came home to find Jonathan and Wendy entangled in the living room.

When she saw me, Wendy burst into tears and hid in his arms.

"Mrs. Zander, please don't misunderstand. I was just helping Jonathan relieve some stress."

I was so overwhelmed. I wanted to tell him I was pregnant. That I didn't need anyone else to have a baby for me.

But before the words could leave my lips, a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen.

The baby that hadn't even had time to be real was gone like that.

Jonathan knew nothing about it. He was disheveled, hugging the sobbing Wendy and roaring at me.

"Daphne, what the fuck is wrong with you? You scared Wendy to tears! You can't even keep a baby. Why don't you just die already?"

"What are you doing here?"

A cold voice pulled me back to reality.

Jonathan had appeared before me without warning. Wendy was clinging to his arm, her baby bump clearly visible.

I stepped back instinctively. "Just finishing my discharge paperwork."

"Daphne, you look so pale," Wendy suddenly chirped, her fingers twirling around his tie.

"Jonathan, let's take her home with us, okay? She just donated blood for me. We should really thank her."

Jonathan pinched Wendy's cheek. "You're so kind-hearted."

Then he turned to me, his expression back to that familiar indifference. "Get in the car. Don't keep Wendy waiting."

I wanted to say no, but I remembered the documents I'd left in the study back at the villa. So, I followed them silently.

Jonathan's usually spotless study now reeked of Wendy's perfume, a cloying sweetness that made me nauseous.

I rummaged through the files, only to find a bulge under one of them on the desk.

I saw a black lace strap when I looked down, the edges stained with suspicious marks.

"Oops!" Wendy, who had followed me into the study, exclaimed. Her cheeks flushed. "H-how is this still in the study?"

Jonathan glanced at me, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "Forgot to clean up."

I lowered my head, suddenly recalling the first year of our marriage when I had secretly placed a homemade lunchbox on his study desk.

He had returned that day in a furious rage, saying I had dirtied his study.

But now, Wendy's girl juice was smeared across his desk and all he did was smile indulgently.