He Gave My Promotion to His Childhood Sweetheart

Playing the tearful victim, she'd dressed herself up as the poor thing being bullied by a senior colleague.

A crowd had gathered outside the department door — doctors, nurses, patients, families — all of them pointing at me.

"She always seemed like such a decent doctor. Who knew she was really like this?"

"You can know a person's face and never know their heart. Who knows how much dirty money she's taking."

"Pregnant and still can't let it rest. She's going home to raise a kid, but she's got to hog the title too?"

I looked to my own colleagues. Most of them avoided my eyes, ducking their heads to fake being busy or shrinking back half a step with strained faces.

No one would speak up for me.

The chill of standing utterly alone crawled up my spine, colder than the pain splitting my lower back.

Isaac tucked her against him like she was precious, his voice ridiculously soft.

"Joyce, you don't have to give an inch to her. You earned that title on your own merit."

But when he turned to me, his eyes were like ice.

"Now. Apologize to Joyce this instant. Handwrite a three-thousand-word self-criticism, deliver it in front of everyone at tomorrow's meeting. Your bonus for the year is canceled. You're suspended pending review!"

Listening to him, I was shaking all over.

Not from anger. From how cold it left me.

I stared straight into his eyes and spoke, one word at a time.

"I won't apologize."

His face changed in an instant.

"Marion, you're defying your superior. Do you think I won't fire you?"

"No need. I quit!"

I pulled out my resignation letter and slapped it on the desk.

His expression darkened.

"Marion, do you have any idea what you're saying?"

I didn't look at him. I fit the last thermos into the cardboard box.

"I said I'm resigning. I'm done."

His face went black.

"You're threatening me with resignation? You think Cardiology can't run without you?"

"Think whatever you want."

Joyce chimed in from the side, all snide sweetness. "Marion, you're a high-risk pregnancy at your age. Isaac's only thinking of your health. Don't play hard to get and make things difficult for him like this."

Isaac looked at me like he'd caught a glimpse of some filthy scheme in my head.

He gave a little laugh. The certain kind.

"Marion, your connections, your network, your resources are all through me. You're an associate chief physician. Away from this hospital, you're nothing!"

"Then let's find out."

I turned to leave. He roared after me, beside himself.

"Marion, don't forget, you're pregnant. What hospital is going to pay top dollar for some deadweight about to go on maternity leave?"

I didn't slow down.

"Then Director Henson needn't trouble himself about it."

"Marion, you'll regret this!"

I looked back and met his eyes coldly.

"I do regret it. I regret not waking up sooner."

With that, I carried my box to the door.

I stopped. Turned back.

"One more thing. The divorce agreement — I'll send it to your email."

And without a glance at his ashen face, I walked out and didn't look back.

Out of the department, I went straight to OB-GYN and booked the procedure to end the pregnancy.

Then I had a lawyer friend draft a divorce agreement and sent it straight to Isaac.

His message came instantly.

【Marion, what is this supposed to mean? You want to divorce me over something this small? You want to be a single mother】

I ignored him and drove home.

Only at home did I see it — the whole stretch of my lower back was mottled purple.

I touched my flat belly, and the tears came rushing down.

See, your daddy doesn't even care about you. Born into this, you'd have no one to love you either.

I got out a box and started packing my clothes.

The smart lock clicked open, and Isaac came storming in.

"Marion, what is this? Why did you book an abortion?"