My Boyfriend Chose My Bully, So I Got an Abortion

I quickly changed my clothes and rushed back home.

Caleb and Nina were already there, waiting, with clothes and jewelry neatly laid out, all planned in advance.

The second Caleb saw me, his expression soured. "What's with your face? You look like death. Are you sick or something?"

Nina, never one to miss an opportunity to take a jab, raised her eyebrows and laughed mockingly. "Lily! You'll do anything to get Caleb's attention, won't you? What did you do this time? Pile on a ton of makeup to play the 'tragic, sick beauty' act? Guess you learned from the best—your mom was a pro at that, too."

Caleb's face twisted with disgust.

His expression hardened as he roughly grabbed my arm, yanking me forward before shoving me into a chair.

Half an hour later, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, wearing the outfit they'd picked for me. It was a revealing dress that exposed my chest and back.

I turned towards Caleb, my voice tight with barely contained anger. "Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now? Do you really hate me that much?"

He refused to let Nina go to a party full of men, but somehow, dressing me up like a toy didn't bother him. Caleb's eyes flicked over me, filled with irritation.

When he finally registered what I was saying, he snapped out of his thoughts, and a cruel smile crept across his face.

"Hate you? Of course, I hate you. I wish you were dead."

After Caleb's parents divorced, his father hired my mom to look after him, worried he would have no one without a mother.

But what started as care evolved into something deeper between them, and eventually, my mom and his dad got together.

Caleb hated my mother for it, convinced she'd schemed her way into their family.

So, all his resentment and anger were directed at me. Tormenting me became his favorite hobby. Caleb never understood that my mother loved him more than his biological mother ever did.

Right then, the party started. As I walked into the room, I realized that the men inside were just like Caleb.

Their eyes raked over me like I was some kind of trophy, their grins lecherous as they shoved drinks into my hand, toasting me over and over again.

For the sake of my mother's ashes, I forced myself to keep drinking. The alcohol burned all the way down in my stomach.

Each glass only made the pain worse, and soon, I was battling with nausea.

A woman getting drunk at a party like this? I didn't need to think too hard to know what would happen next.

A sharp pain twisted in my abdomen. I walked out and stumbled towards the bathroom, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

But just as I reached the door, my phone buzzed. A message from Caleb flashed across the screen:

'Get back here.'

I hesitated, my hand hovering over the door handle.

Another buzz, and this time, a picture appeared. My stomach dropped as I opened it. The photo showed Caleb's hand gripping my mother's urn, casually dangling it over the edge of a tall building, ready to drop it at any second.

Panic surged through me as I looked up, scanning the area. Across from the party, in the building opposite, I spotted him.

Caleb stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding my mother's urn, watching me with that same cold, detached expression.

He had seen how I'd been humiliated, my failed attempt to escape, and ultimately, my surrender.

Still, he showed absolutely no concern.

I returned to the party feeling like I was trudging through quicksand.

Before I could gather my thoughts, a pot-bellied man slithered up to me.

"Miss Dawson, feeling a little tipsy? How about I take you to a hotel? You smell amazing," he said, his voice oily and breath reeking as his hand landed on my neck, slowly sliding down.

His bodyguards were stationed at the door, leaving me no way out. Trapped, I decided to do the unexpected. I grabbed a glass of wine and plastered on a fake, sycophantic smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds. You're too kind," I cooed, forcing myself to play along.

Through the clear glass of the private room, my eyes locked with Caleb's. His gaze was a mix of rage and frustration, burning through the distance between us.

I was betting on everything at that moment. I had to know if, somewhere beneath all that hatred, there was still a shred of genuine care for me.

For the rest of the party, I switched gears. I went from playing the meek, quiet girl to aggressively pouring drinks for the men, laughing and smiling like I wasn't falling apart.

If Caleb and Nina wanted to humiliate me, I would get my small dose of revenge, one way or another.

As I made my rounds, I heard someone mention that Lance Carter, the editor-in-chief of a major magazine, was here.

A juicy scoop about Nina, the rising star, and her history of bullying?

That could be worth something.

"Oh, Mr. Reynolds!" I gushed, practically dripping with false enthusiasm. "It's such an honor to have you here. Let me pour you another drink! Here's a toast to you! Don't forget what we discussed."

By now, I was starting to feel dizzy, and the pain in my abdomen grew sharper. I remembered the doctor's warning after my D&C that I shouldn't drink any alcohol. But I was far past that now.

Glancing out the window, I realized Caleb was gone.

The spot where he had been standing was now littered with cigarette butts, but he was nowhere to be found.

Had I lost my bet?

Before I could dwell on it, Mr. Reynolds moved closer, rubbing his hands together as his eyes raked over me. "Miss Dawson, you're feeling hot in all those clothes? Let me help you take them off, baby girl."

He reached for me, pulling at my clothes roughly.

Panic surged through me as revulsion crept up my spine.

Slowly, I moved my thumb towards the emergency number 110 on my phone, ready to call for help.

But in the next second, my phone was snatched away and thrown aside, followed by a burning slap across my face.

"You filthy whore! Do you think you can call the cops on me? Be grateful that I even want to sleep with you!"

As we struggled, my crop top was pulled up to my chest.

Before I could react, the door to the private room burst open with a loud bang.

A liquor bottle smashed over Reynolds's head, and blood splattered onto my lips. The metallic taste made me gag.

"Who the hell—" Mr. Reynolds, who had been ready to yell, froze when he saw who it was.