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He Chose Her, I Chose Us Novel Cover

He Chose Her, I Chose Us

On our tenth anniversary, I discovered Drake’s secret divorce papers. My husband wasn't just cheating with his pregnant manager, Chelsea; he planned to trick me into raising their child as my own to protect his political image. After Chelsea staged an accident to frame me, Drake’s cruelty peaked. He had no idea that after years of IVF, I was finally carrying twins. He chose his mistress, so I am choosing my babies and vanishing forever.
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Chapter 4

The door to the examination room swung open. Chelsea emerged, her eyes red, her expression a fragile mask of vulnerability. She glanced around nervously.

"Did I cause trouble for you, Drake?" she asked, her voice a thin, shaky whisper. "I shouldn't have told you about the baby." Her eyes welled with fresh tears. "I was just going to... going to take care of it. But the doctor said if I did, I wouldn't be able to have children ever again."

Drake put a comforting hand on her shoulder, his voice warm, utterly gentle. "No, Chelsea. This isn't your fault. Kaitlyn… she would have found out eventually."

Chelsea lowered her gaze, her shoulders trembling. "She won't like me," she mumbled, her voice choked. "I promise I'll try my best to win her over. I'll even move in as a nanny after the baby is born, to help out."

A cold laugh bubbled up in my throat, quickly suppressed. A nanny? In my own home? The audacity was breathtaking.

Drake squeezed her shoulder again. "I'm sorry, Chelsea," he said, his voice thick with remorse. "I should have handled this better."

My chest tightened, air squeezed from my lungs. The sheer hypocrisy of it all was suffocating.

A few minutes later, Drake left to pick up her prescription, leaving Chelsea alone in the corridor. She watched him go, then straightened her clothes, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. The fragile mask was gone, replaced by something hard and calculating.

She slowly turned, her eyes locking onto my hiding spot. A chill ran down my spine.

"Did you hear everything, Kaitlyn?" she asked, her voice sharp, devoid of any pretense of vulnerability.

My lips remained sealed. I couldn't speak. I wouldn' t give her the satisfaction.

She raised an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with challenge, pure contempt.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. I turned to walk away, to escape this nightmare.

But she blocked my path, her smirk widening into a mocking smile. "You should just leave, Kaitlyn. Graciously. I'm carrying Drake's child. His family will never let him abandon me. You'll just be kicked out, publicly shamed." She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. "Your marriage certificate? It's fake. You'll be nothing but a mistress."

Her words were daggers, each one twisting deeper into the wound. My hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into my palms. The pain was real, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my soul.

I opened my mouth, a desperate protest forming on my lips.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Drake was returning.

Chelsea' s face instantly contorted, morphing into a picture of fragile innocence. "Please, don't blame the baby!" she cried out, her voice filled with a desperate plea. Then, with a dramatic gasp, she crumpled to the floor, clutching her belly, her face twisted in a grimace of pain. Blood began to seep onto her white hospital gown, blooming like a macabre flower.

Drake roared her name, rushing to her side. He scooped her into his arms, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at me. "What did you do to her?!" His voice was a raw, primal shout.

I stared, stunned, speechless. My head shook frantically, trying to deny the accusation. But Chelsea's trembling voice cut me off.

"No, Drake, don't blame Kaitlyn," she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "She's just… she's just upset. She doesn't like me or the baby."

Her weak cries, her manipulative words, only fueled Drake's rage. He shoved me aside, his eyes filled with a searing hatred. "If anything happens to her or my child," he snarled, "I swear, I will never forgive you."

He cradled her protectively, stroking her hair, his gaze filled with a tormented tenderness I knew I would never receive again. "I'm taking her back to a room," he vowed, his voice thick with emotion. "Right now."

He carried her out of the corridor, his back to me. He didn' t look back. Not once. I stood there, utterly alone, surrounded by the ghosts of my shattered life. I didn' t even get a chance to explain. My world had turned to ash. He had chosen her. He chose them.

Let him have her.

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