Replacing My Heartless Husband

Julian lunged forward, scooped Chloe into his arms and raced toward the clinic, his hands trembling.

His voice was hoarse, filled with a panic I had never heard before. "Chloe, you'll be okay."

From start to finish, he never once glanced in my direction.

The first time I miscarried, I called him over thirty times. He never answered.

The second time, I was alone at the hospital, signing my own surgical consent form. When the nurse asked where my family was, I told her he was busy.

The third time, the fourth, the fifth…

Every single time, I was alone.

It wasn't that he was heartless—just heartless to me.

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs weak.

Blood still seeped from my bandaged hand, which throbbed with a dull, persistent pain.

My career was over.

I turned and walked away. No one noticed.

It was late when I returned home.

I opened a drawer in the study and pulled out the divorce papers I had prepared long ago.

I had kept this divorce agreement for seven years. It was finally time to use it.

Perhaps marrying him, driven by that flicker of foolish affection, had been a mistake from the start.

My phone suddenly rang.

The caller ID was Julian.

"Get to the hospital. Now."

His voice was frigid. He hung up before I could refuse.

I clutched the phone, hesitating for a moment before grabbing the divorce papers and heading out.

Perfect. I'll have him sign them.

The hospital corridor was harshly lit. When Julian saw me, his gaze was glacial. "The baby's gone. She's hemorrhaging."

"You did this, Elara. Are you satisfied?"

"I didn't—"

"You pushed her!"

He cut me off, his voice low and simmering with fury. "Everyone saw you."

"Now, go donate blood."

I bit my lip. "I will. But you have to sign something first."

I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and handed them to him.

Julian snatched the document, flipped to the last page without a glance, and picked up a pen.

"Is this about your father's failing company again?" he sneered.

I said nothing.

He thought it was another project proposal, just like all the other times over the last seven years.

Every time my father's company was in trouble, I had to beg him.

He always helped, but never for my sake. It was to maintain his own reputation as my husband.

He was convinced I had only married him for money, a loveless arrangement to satisfy our families.

But he never knew. He didn't know that one piece of candy he'd given me in college when my blood sugar crashed had been enough to warm my entire world.

He scrawled his name with a flamboyant flourish, then tossed the document at me. "Satisfied? Now go give blood."

I caught the papers and carefully tucked them into my bag.

The moment the needle pierced my vein, I closed my eyes.

Crimson blood flowed through the transparent tube. One bag, two bags…

The world began to swim, a loud buzz roaring in my ears.

The nurse's voice seemed to come from far away.

Then, everything went black.