He Repaid My Sacrifice with Poison

I gutted fish to pay for his college tuition. After we got married, I poured my entire savings into helping him start his business. He once said to me, “Charity, I owe you a debt I can never repay in this lifetime.”

“You’re my one and only. I’ll never let you down.”

But after he achieved success and fame, he drugged my soup, causing me to miscarry.

Meanwhile, the mistress he secretly kept mocked and humiliated me, ridiculing my humble background at every turn.

Heartbroken and disillusioned, I left a divorce agreement on the table and disappeared from his life. After I left, he went mad searching for me, saying that life without me was meaningless.

***

In a luxurious private hospital room, I lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as tears streamed down my face.

I had miscarried.

Three months into the pregnancy and with no warning signs, my baby was gone. The weight of the loss crushed me. I couldn’t come to terms with it for a while.

My husband, Tom Webb, sat by the bed, gently holding my hand as he comforted me. “Charity, don’t be sad,” he said tenderly.

“The baby is gone and we have to accept that. Now, focus on getting better. We can always try for another.”

I glanced at him, suppressing the overwhelming anger and sadness within me. Pulling my hand away, I stared at the miscarriage report in my lap, unable to stop the tears.

He wiped them away with false tenderness, offering more meaningless comfort.

If it were in the past, I might have cried in his arms. But now, I couldn’t even stand looking into his face. His full of deceit face.

The truth was, my sudden miscarriage was his doing.

He had drugged the pregnancy soup meant to protect our baby. He poisoned it, ensuring I wouldn’t carry this child to term.

I didn’t know this at first. But last night, as I writhed in unbearable pain and was rushed to the hospital for an induced abortion, I overheard his angry phone call in the hallway.

It was past two in the morning. I had just undergone the procedure when I heard him yelling on the phone in the stairwell outside my hospital room.

He was speaking to Lori Braun, the mistress he had been secretly supporting.

“Didn’t you say that drug would cause Charity to miscarry without her noticing? Then why did she end up in the ER writhing in pain?”

“I swear, Lori, if anything happens to her, I’ll make you pay for it!”

At that moment, it felt like the sky had collapsed. My chest tightened and I nearly blacked out from the rage and betrayal.

I didn’t confront Tom. Instead, I returned to the hospital bed and cried silently. I cried for the baby I couldn’t protect. I cried for all the sacrifices I’d made, sacrifices that now felt meaningless. Tom had betrayed me.

I finally understood what people meant when they said, “When men get rich, they turn bad.”

The Tom I once knew—the man I fell in love with—was gone.

After our wedding, he often stayed out late, claiming he was busy with work. At first, I believed him. I even worried he was overworking himself and reminded him to take care of his health.

It wasn’t until Lori began sending me taunting messages every few days that I realized he was cheating. That was when I first thought about leaving him. But I didn’t. I clung to the love we had shared and the hope of a future with the child I was carrying. So I endured, waiting for the right moment to confront him—after the baby was born.

I never imagined that, only three months into my pregnancy, I’d lose my child because of his treachery. At that moment, all the hope I had for him vanished. As I looked at Tom, still pretending to be the caring husband, his hypocritical face filled me with nothing but disgust. It was then that I made my decision.