He Gave Up Our Baby So He Could Marry the Heiress

Outside the window, the night was black as ink, rain lashing against the glass.

I tossed the last photo of us into the cardboard box and sat on the bay window ledge, knees drawn to my chest.

Out of habit, I opened my tablet. An unfinished wedding dress design filled the screen.

One I'd made for our wedding.

I'd been revising it for nearly two years and had never quite been satisfied.

Now that I'd never wear it, the imperfection felt strangely fitting.

I didn't hesitate. I dragged the file into the trash.

Deleting a love that was never equal to begin with.

I had moved out of the villa.

At the old Harding family estate, it was just Kevin and me.

When Dale came looking for me, I was lying in the rocking chair, enjoying the breeze.

He crouched beside me, his voice full of strained patience. “It's been two days. Your anger's had time to cool. Come back with me?”

I opened my eyes and looked at him, almost laughing.

“Dale, I raised you for ten years. When have I ever picked a fight with you?”

His expression stiffened. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

I thought it over and decided I should just say it plainly.

“Dale, I didn't move out because I'm angry with you. I moved out because we shouldn't be living together anymore.”

“In a few days, I'll go to the office and hand in my resignation. Once your wedding is over……”

“Enough!”

He cut me off before I could finish.

He stood, face dark, fury barely contained between his brows.

“Still telling me you're not making trouble?”

“It's a wedding. You really have to nickel-and-dime me over this?”

“I can't marry you anyway—so what does it matter who I marry? The Joyce family can help us hold our ground. Why can't you just see that?”

He said his piece, turned on his heel like he couldn't stand to be there another second, and left.

And I sat there, unable to come back from that last sentence.

He said he can't marry me……

But two years ago, on a rainy night, when he'd pinned me against the wall, drunk, the words out of his mouth had been clear enough.

“Marry me. Won't you marry me?”

I'd frozen.

Before I could answer, his warm lips trailed down from my forehead and caught my mouth, hard enough to bruise.

“You don't want to?”

I was gasping, and it took everything I had to push him back.

“Dale, you're drunk……”

He looked at me, eyes brimming, hurt spilling across his face like a child denied the only thing he'd ever wanted.

“I'm not drunk.”

“Don't you like me?”

My throat tightened. I didn't know what to say.

And he cried, tears spilling down like a boy who'd been refused the only thing he'd ever asked for.

“Just say yes. Please, just say yes.”

“You know I couldn't have made it this far alone. Not a single step, not without you.”

“If it's not you beside me for the rest of my life, what's the point of any of it? What's the point of Harding Group?”

His scalding tears slid from my neck into my collar, and whatever was left of my reason burned away.

I pressed my hands against his chest, a last feeble resistance. “Dale, think about this. You're not who you used to be. You could do so much better.”

“I don't want better. You're the best choice I could ever have.”

Every defense I had gave way under those words—vow after vow after vow, until there was nothing left standing.

And now he was telling me he can't marry me……

I started laughing and couldn't stop, until the laughter choked into tears streaming down my face.

His text came through. Even through the screen, the hostility was palpable.

【You want to resign? Fine. Maisie wants a position at the company anyway. Don't bother waiting a few days. Come in tomorrow and get it done. Free up the spot.】

I couldn't go.

What he didn't know was that I'd been on the operating table that morning. The abortion was done. The doctor said five days in bed, minimum.