My Husband Made Me Drink for His Secretary

When I refused, Maxton's face twisted with disgust. "Still pretending? Three years ago, when you had a stomach bleed, you downed two bottles like it was nothing. Do you really think I'll believe you now?"

The sarcasm in his voice ignited the simmering anger buried deep within me. I yanked free from the drunken man’s grip, fury blinding me as I marched up to Maxton. Without a second thought, I slapped him with all the strength I could muster and turned to leave.

From the safety of Maxton's arms, Priscilla peered at me with mock innocence. "Maxton, Solana says she's not feeling well. If she truly can’t drink, I’ll drink instead. I can just go to the hospital for an IV afterward," she murmured pitifully.

Maxton’s grip on my wrist tightened painfully, his gaze sharp and merciless. "Look at Priscilla, then look at yourself," he sneered. "It’s just a few drinks. Will it kill you?"

His words cut deeper than his harsh grip, which had turned my wrist red. My struggles only seemed to amuse him further. "Solana, I’m giving you face here. Do you still think you’re some kind of saint? You’ve already lost a child; who else would want you, this worthless piece of trash? Be good and drink for Priscilla. You know I still need you."

Sensing the fury in Maxton’s expression, Priscilla clutched his hand with trembling fingers. "Maxton, please don’t be angry. Solana might still resent me. It’s my fault for being thoughtless. If you’re upset, blame me for being useless and failing to help you," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.

As her sobs grew louder, Maxton released my wrist and turned to wipe her tears, his earlier anger melting into concern.

The men at the table, noticing the rising tension, hurried to pull Maxton back to his seat.

Seizing the moment, I shoved the door open and stepped out without looking back.

"Looks like she’s truly upset. Aren’t you going to comfort her?" one of them teased.

Maxton’s voice, dripping with scorn, carried after me. "No need. Trust me, she’ll come crawling back like a dog, begging for forgiveness."

His words cut through me like a knife, my fists clenching so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. The ache in my chest deepened, splintering the last fragile threads of love I had for him.

But Maxton was wrong this time. He would never see me crawl back—not now, not ever.

On the way home in a taxi, my stomach churned with pain, cold sweat trickling down my back.

"Miss, are you okay? Should I take you to a hospital?" the driver asked, his worried gaze catching my pale reflection in the mirror.

I weakly shook my head, forcing a faint smile. "No, it’s fine. Just take me to the address I gave you."

Before I could say another word, darkness swallowed me whole.

When I came to, the sterile white walls of a hospital surrounded me. The driver stood anxiously by my bedside; his concern etched across his face.

When I opened my eyes, the man sighed in relief, his tense shoulders relaxing. "Little girl, if you weren’t feeling well, you should’ve visited the hospital earlier. You really frightened me. Luckily, it was just a false alarm. I bought you some cereal and the fees are already taken care of."

After explaining everything, he stood up, ready to leave.

My gaze fell on the steaming bowl of cereal on the table and tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.

From the moment of that unplanned abortion until now, the first ounce of care I received came from a stranger.

Just as warmth began to fill the cracks in my heart, my phone vibrated. The screen lit up with Maxton’s name.

Without hesitation, I turned it off, refusing to answer as I once would have.

I lay motionless in bed for what felt like an eternity, mustering enough strength to finally drag myself to the doctor’s office.

"Solana, you just went through an abortion," Dr. Huxley said, his voice calm but firm as he reviewed my records. "You can’t afford to let your emotions spiral like this. Thankfully, you came in time today; another delay could’ve cost you your life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with concern, as I quietly asked to be discharged.

Dr. Huxley’s brows lifted in surprise, though his tone remained steady. "Do you really want to leave? In your condition, I strongly advise staying for further observation."

But my resolve didn’t waver. Seeing my determination, he exhaled sharply, the creases on his forehead deepening. "Fine," he relented, though his disapproval was clear.

"Solana, where are your family members? They need to come in.”