I Needed Him But He Stood Me Up

After Clyde finished speaking, he carried Betty out of the room.

The door was left ajar, and I overheard him commanding ten snowplows to clear the road. He even instructed his friends to drive their sports cars along the path to smooth it out.

In less than ten minutes, Clyde orchestrated a route for Betty to safely escape the nearly one-meter-thick snow.

Meanwhile, I had been stranded in the freezing cold for twelve hours, begging for his help. But he ignored me, afraid I would cling to him and disrupt his life.

Before leaving, Clyde ordered his bodyguard to take me to the hospital.

I was dragged into the car, my hands still bloody.

Inside the spacious vehicle, Clyde called the family doctor to treat my wounds. Betty was lying in the back seat, and as he looked at me, his expression softened.

For a fleeting moment, I was reminded of the time when he had agreed to marry me—his gaze then had been tender and full of affection.

After my wounds were dressed, Clyde gently took my hand and spoke in a low voice.

"Angela, I need you to keep Betty's pregnancy a secret. If the elders find out, she’ll be exiled from the capital again, just like before."

My heart sank instantly. His sudden gentleness wasn’t for me—it was for Betty.

Clyde’s eyes turned cold again as he sat closer, trying to pull me into his arms.

But the thought of Betty’s perfume and tears lingering on him made my stomach churn. I instinctively pushed him away and shifted to the farthest corner of the seat.

He stared at me with a mix of confusion and irritation. After all, in the past, if he’d so much as touched my hand, I would’ve been overjoyed for days.

Suppressing his temper, Clyde spoke again, his tone firm and matter-of-fact.

"After Betty gives birth, the child will be raised as a York. I’ll be the father, and you’ll be the mother. To reassure Betty, I’ll transfer all my property to her so she’ll never have to worry again."

"But there’s one condition. Before we gain custody of her child, we must both undergo sterilization. It’s the only way Betty will trust that we’ll truly care for the baby. After the wedding, we’ll proceed with the operation."

He wasn’t asking for my opinion—he was informing me of his plan, as though it was already decided.

Clyde seemed confident I would agree. Perhaps he thought my love for him was so deep that I’d accept anything.

I stared at him, his words echoing in my mind. He wanted to give all his assets to Betty, use my wealth to support her child, and rob me of the chance to have children of my own—all while expecting me to comply without question.

It became clear that Clyde’s supposed affection for me had always been an act for Betty’s sake. Even our marriage was likely orchestrated to provide legitimacy for her child.

But I needed him to admit it. I wanted him to say it outright. If he did, it would be like handing me the knife I needed to sever all ties with him.

I gazed into his eyes, searching for a hint of truth, and asked, "Clyde, so you married me because of Betty and her baby? In these ten years, did you ever love me? Were you ever moved by me, even a little?"

Clyde didn’t respond immediately. He sat in silence, as though seriously contemplating my question.

Then, from the back seat, Betty—eyes closed, voice faint as if in a dream—murmured, "Clyde, don’t worry. Once I give birth, I’ll disappear from your world forever."

Her words seemed to pierce him. Clyde’s attention shifted entirely to Betty, his gaze filled with concern and tenderness.

When he finally turned back to me, his voice was measured but distant.

"It’s been ten years, Angela. It’s not like there were no feelings at all. But what we have feels more like family. Marrying you gives me peace of mind."

"Being with Betty feels like love," Clyde said.

I stared at him in silence, not uttering a word. If that’s the case, I decided, let them have their wedding.

After Betty was sent to the emergency room, the doctor confirmed she was fine. I took one last look at Clyde, turned away, and asked the driver to take me back to the villa.

I planned to book a hotel, wait for my flight connection, and leave Brooklyn for good.

Clyde followed me out, calling after me.

"Angela, I’ve transferred the money for the wedding dress to your account. Go buy yourself a new one."

"I’ll be with Betty for the next few days, but don’t worry. I’ll be there for the wedding and won’t let you down. And don’t forget the vasectomy."

I didn’t respond and left without looking back. I waited until the wedding day to act.

Clyde bombarded me with frantic messages.

I finally replied with a single text:

[I wish you and Betty a happy marriage. I will not marry you.]