He Called Me Worthless, So I Left Him With Nothing

The elevator doors slid open quietly.

I stepped out, holding a thin medical report in one hand and a neatly wrapped gift box in the other. The report had been folded and unfolded so many times the edges were soft. Four words were circled in red—uterine lining too thin—as if repeating them could somehow change the meaning.

Tonight was my wedding anniversary.

Inside the gift box wasn't jewelry or something sentimental. It was a property transfer agreement—documents for the Riverside project, the piece of land Adam had pursued for three years and never managed to secure. I had finally decided to tell him the truth tonight. About who I really was. About where I came from.

I had planned to tell him everything after dinner.

I even rehearsed what I would say in my head—how I would smile, how I would explain that I wasn't an orphan at all, that I was the daughter of the very family who controlled the land he wanted so badly. I thought maybe, just maybe, this gift could soften things between us.

I stopped outside the private suite, my heart beating faster. Warm light spilled from the doorway, and voices drifted out before I could knock.

"...A grandson at last. Aunt Hillary must be over the moon."

I froze.

"The surrogate is already two months along," another voice said with a laugh. "Smooth and easy, huh? Much better than forcing nature."

My fingers tightened around the report.

Then I heard Adam.

"She's healthy," he said calmly. "The doctor says the pregnancy is stable."

Someone asked, "And Eleanor?"

There was a brief pause.

"She agreed," Adam replied. "She knows what's at stake."

My breath caught in my throat.

Another voice chimed in, teasing. "You really convinced her to go along with it? If it were me, I'd be scared to death of being replaced."

Adam let out a soft chuckle. "She won't leave. She has nowhere to go."

Someone laughed. "Still can't believe she never got pregnant herself."

Adam's tone turned lazy, almost mocking. "What can I do? Some women are just defective. Three miscarriages, a body that can't even hold a child—forcing it would only be cruel."

The words cut deeper than I expected.

Another person joked, "So why did you marry her in the first place?"

Adam didn't hesitate. "I owed her. She saved my life back then and took care of me when I was at my lowest. Marriage was the cleanest way to pay that debt off."

My vision blurred.

"Besides," he added lightly, "she knew the deal. As long as she stayed useful and obedient, I wouldn't abandon her. That's already generous enough."

The medical report slipped from my hand and fell silently onto the carpet.

So this was how it was.

Years ago, I had pretended to be an orphan to escape the arranged marriage my parents had prepared for me. I cut off my family, erased my identity, and ran until I had nothing left.

That was when I met Adam.

I had pulled him out of a wrecked car on a rainy highway, my hands shaking, my clothes soaked through. I didn't know he was a billionaire CEO. I only knew he was injured, unconscious, and alone.

Because I saved him, he married me.

I thought it was love.

But I was wrong.

His mother wanted a grandson, and I wanted to give her one.

But my body betrayed me again and again. Three pregnancies. Three losses. Each time, I smiled and said I was fine while my heart quietly broke.

The doctor said it plainly: my uterus lining was too thin. Conceiving was difficult. Carrying a child was even harder.

A month ago, Adam sat across from me and said, "Let's try surrogacy. We'll tell my mother it's yours."

"What if I refuse?" I asked.

His gaze didn't waver. "Then she'll force a divorce."

So I nodded.

I told myself it was only temporary. That once the baby was born, things would go back to normal.

I didn't expect Irene to move into our lives so completely.

I wandered out of the hotel, the night air cold against my skin. The gift box felt unbearably heavy in my hand. I didn't know where I was going. My phone buzzed.

It was my mother.

"Eleanor," she said gently, "have you made up your mind?"

I laughed softly, the sound bitter even to myself. "Yes."

Her voice caught. "You'll come back?"

"Yes," I said. "I'll marry whoever you choose."

She was silent for a moment, then said quietly, "Alright. We'll prepare everything."

The call ended.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty street. The property documents inside the gift box crumpled slightly under my grip.

I had planned to give him my name, my background, my power—

everything he had been chasing.

But now, it didn't matter anymore.

When I returned home, exhaustion dragged me into sleep.

The blanket was suddenly pulled away.

"Eleanor," Adam's voice snapped. "Why weren't you there tonight?"

I turned my face into the pillow. "I wasn't feeling well."

He frowned, his irritation easing just a little. "You're overthinking again."

Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, "Irene will be staying closer to us from now on. My mother wants to keep an eye on her. You understand, right?"

I nodded silently.

"Good," he said. "Don't make things difficult."

The door closed.

I lay there in the dark, the unopened gift box still sitting quietly on the bedside table.

That night, I finally understood—I hadn't escaped my arranged marriage after all.

I had only delayed it.