My Fiancé's Ultimate Deception

After seven years of devotion, I finally became pregnant with my fiancé Coleton's twins. But when I started bleeding, terrified and in pain, he wasn't there.

I miscarried our babies alone on the cold bathroom floor.

I had called him twelve times. He declined every single one. Later, I found out why: Annis, his ex-girlfriend, needed him because she was "sad" about her divorce.

He came to the hospital two days late, a fresh hickey on his neck. Instead of comforting me for the loss of our children, he forced me to post a public apology to Annis for "harassing" them with my emergency calls. He even used my phone to flirt with her, planning their dinner date right in front of me while I was still grieving.

When I refused to play along, he abandoned me at the hospital exit, causing me to fall and get a concussion. Later, I found them in our bed, and he had the audacity to invite me to their "celebratory" dinner.

"You're doing this for me, right?" he asked, a hopeful smile on his face. "So I can finally be happy with Annis?"

I looked at the man I had given my life to, the man who had left our children to die to comfort his ex, and saw a stranger. This time, there would be no tears, no second chances. I took the pre-nup he signed years ago—the one that gave me a huge chunk of his company if he ever betrayed me—and walked away for good.

1

My fiancé, Coleton Stephenson, was late. Again. The soft hum of the waiting room was a stark contrast to the frantic beat of my heart. Every tick of the clock felt like a hammer blow against my ribs. He had promised he'd be here to pick me up.

The heavy door creaked open, and Coleton finally walked in. He moved with that easy, confident stride that always turned heads. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, were a little too bright. A smile, too wide, stretched across his face.

He saw me, his expression softening to what he thought was reassurance. He walked over, his arm already reaching to pull me into him.

"Baby, I'm so sorry I'm late," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Traffic was a nightmare."

I stiffened before his hand could even touch my skin. A cold wave washed over me. I pulled back, almost imperceptibly, just enough to avoid the contact.

He froze, his hand hovering in the air. His smile faltered.

"Everything alright, Clarissa?" he asked. The concern in his tone felt manufactured, a performance.

I kept my gaze steady, not meeting his eyes directly. My eyes locked onto the faint, reddish mark just beneath his jawline. It was small, almost hidden by his perfectly tailored collar, but it was there. A fresh, tell-tale bruise.

A hickey.

My stomach clenched. I said nothing. My silence hung heavy in the air between us, a suffocating blanket.

He cleared his throat, dropping his hand to his side. "Look, about what happened..." he started, his voice a little too casual. "The doctor said it was just... one of those things. Nature taking its course."

He was talking about the miscarriage. The loss that had left me empty and broken just two days ago.

"Nature?" I finally spoke, the words feeling foreign and rough in my throat. My voice was barely a whisper. "I called you, Coleton. I begged you to come home. I was bleeding."

He nodded, stepping closer again, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Yes, Clarissa, and as I explained, my phone was on silent. Annis was having a panic attack about her settlement. I couldn't just abandon her. Besides, Dr. Evans said the pregnancy was high-risk anyway. Maybe... maybe it's for the best. The stress of twins would have been too much for you."

His words were a knife in my heart. For the best. He wasn't mourning. He was relieved. Relieved that my "problem" had resolved itself so he could focus on her.

His touch burned my skin. It didn't soothe me. It made me want to recoil, to scream. But I just stood there, letting his fingers dig into my arm. I stared at him, my vision blurring slightly.

"You think losing our children is for the best?" My voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

His brow furrowed. "Don't twist my words. I just mean... you're safe. That's what matters. You were getting so emotional, so hormonal lately. It wasn't healthy." He paused, then dropped his voice. "And look, I know you're upset. Annis reached out to me. She saw those rumors online about why I wasn't with you. She feels terrible that people are blaming her. It's affecting her mental health, Clarissa. She doesn't need this kind of negativity right now."

Annis. Always Annis. Even my grief was about her.

"Negativity?" I echoed, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.

He pulled out his phone, already scrolling. "Yes. People are saying she kept me away from you. It's unfair. She's been through a lot." He looked up, his movements quick and practiced. "We need to fix this. For her. For us."

He navigated to a social media app. "Here, let's take a picture. A nice one. You can post an apology, clear the air. Tell people you lost the babies due to natural causes and that Annis has been nothing but supportive."

He held the phone up, angling it to catch the light. His face was already composed into a sympathetic, caring expression. A CEO, always aware of his image.

I instinctively leaned away, my body refusing to cooperate. My head felt light, dizzy.

He sighed, his patience visibly wearing thin. "Clarissa, come on. Just a quick one. We'll show everyone we're united." He adjusted the angle again, trying to get me fully in the frame. "It'll look good. For everyone."

He pressed the shutter button. The flash momentarily blinded me. When my vision cleared, I saw the preview. He was smiling broadly, but my face was half-hidden, a blurry, almost spectral presence at the edge of the frame. My eyes were vacant, lifeless.

He looked at the image, then back at me. "Perfect!" he declared, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "Just what we need. Post this with a caption. Something warm. Say you regret causing Annis any guilt."

My breath hitched. "No," I said, the word a steel rod in my spine.

He blinked. "No? What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, 'no'," I repeated, louder this time. A flicker of something, maybe anger, maybe bewilderment, crossed his face. "You can't have your cake and eat it too, Coleton."

The old proverb tasted bitter on my tongue. He used to hate public displays of affection, especially if they involved me. "It's unprofessional, Clarissa," he'd always said. "Keep our relationship private." Now, with Annis, suddenly it was vital for me to publicly absolve her.

It was never about me. It was never about us. It was always about Annis. My heart twisted, a cold, hard knot. I finally understood.