He Cried and Begged When It's too Late

The warm breeze carried the hum of quiet conversations and the clatter of dishes as I sat at the small outdoor restaurant. The peace of this place felt like another world compared to the chaos I’d left behind.

But for me, it wasn’t enough. Adrian and Carmela needed to crumble.

Pulling out my phone, I typed a quick message and sent it to several major media outlets, attaching the proof of Adrian’s affair. Photos of him and Carmela, intimate moments at the office, and the announcement of their unborn child—everything was there. It didn’t take long for the story to hit the airwaves.

I refreshed my news feed as I sipped my coffee.

“Breaking News: Adrian Rose Accused of Affair Amid Plane Crash Scandal.”

I smirked. Perfect timing.

The television inside the restaurant caught my attention as the screen switched to a live press conference. Adrian stood at the podium, looking solemn, his voice steady but defensive.

“I love my wife, Felicity,” he said, dripping with practiced sincerity. “Carmela is just a surrogate. The child was a decision made for the future of Rose Corporation because Felicity couldn’t produce an heir. It was never personal, and it was for the company’s success.”

I rolled my eyes, the coffee in my hand forgotten. His lies were pathetic.

He continued. “I did not harm my wife. Felicity’s disappearance and the plane crash are the work of someone else. Someone who’s wanted to destroy me for years. My rival, Hans Ward, has been trying to undermine me, especially after our recent project negotiations.”

Adrian glanced at the cameras. “I urge the authorities to investigate Hans. The truth will prevail because I would never hurt Felicity.”

I scoffed under my breath. He had no shame.

A group at a nearby table started whispering, their voices loud enough to reach me.

“Did you hear about that Rose woman?” a man said.

“Yeah,” a woman replied. “Her husband killed her because she couldn’t give him a child.”

“Honestly,” another chimed in, “a woman should be able to produce a child. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Rage bubbled under my skin. Ever since Adrian and I couldn’t conceive, I’d been the one blamed. It was always my fault. I’d accepted it for years without question, but hearing strangers reduce my worth to my ability to have a child made my blood boil.

I set my fork down, my appetite gone.

Later that afternoon, I sat in the waiting room of a nearby hospital, my nerves frayed. I had never once thought to get checked. I’d always assumed it was my fault, just like everyone else did.

But what if it wasn’t?

When the doctor finally called me in, I explained everything—the years of trying, the lack of answers, the constant blame. She listened carefully before running a series of tests.

“It’ll take a few days for the results,” she said kindly.

I nodded, thanking her before leaving.

The wait was excruciating, but when the results came, I was stunned.

“You’re not infertile,” the doctor said, her tone firm but gentle.

I blinked, the words not sinking in. “What?”

She smiled reassuringly. “You’re perfectly healthy. There’s no medical reason preventing you from having children.”

Shock gave way to disbelief, then to something darker. If I wasn’t the problem… then who was?

I sought second and third opinions, each confirming the same thing. I wasn’t infertile.

The realization hit me like a freight train. Carmela.

Adrian wasn’t the father of her child. He couldn’t be.

The lies, the manipulation—it all made sense now. She’d spun her web, using Adrian’s desperation for an heir to secure her position.

That night, I opened my phone and typed a message to her under a new account.

“Adrian isn’t the father of your child. How ironic?”

The next moment, numerous messages flooded in.