The Baby Isn't Mine, and I'm Allergic to Men

After confirming the abortion procedure three days later, I turned away and walked straight into Leonard, who was rushing toward me and out of breath.

"Darling, why did you come out here alone? It's dangerous."

Looking at his anxious face, a question twisted in my mind.

Was he worried about me, or the child I carried?

I forced a bitter smile and stepped out of his reach. "I'm fine."

Leonard's eyes flickered. He had always been the one avoiding me, and I had never once pulled away from him, even though I was the one who suffered through the allergic reactions.

When we got home, Leonard claimed he still had work to finish, yet he knelt down and spoke softly to the baby in my belly.

"Don't kick Mommy, sweetheart. Daddy doesn't want her to hurt."

If this had happened before, I would have been dizzy with happiness, grateful for the child growing inside me, and certain I had a husband who loved me.

Now every word cut like a blade. My heart bled with every syllable.

As always, Leonard brought me a warm glass of milk. His eyes curved with a familiar smile.

"Drink this and get some sleep. I'll be in the study finishing up."

His gentle tone and expression should have been comforting, yet my body trembled.

I didn't resist anymore. I took the glass, pretending nothing was wrong, and drained it in one swallow.

It didn't take long before my eyelids grew unbearably heavy and I slipped into unconsciousness.

Somewhere in the fog of sleep, faint sounds drifted from the study.

A rhythm. A breath. A stifled moan.

"Hannah, don't worry. I'll never touch her. I won't let you feel like I'm dirty.

"And I'll make sure you become the top intern in the entire hospital. With Kayla's help, everything will go smoothly."

I didn't have time to parse the meaning behind his words.

Because something else stunned me first.

Leonard, who famously refused to take female students, had placed his childhood sweetheart at his side to train personally. What did all the late nights, meetings, and endless workload really mean?

It was laughable. The entire world seemed to know, and I had never once doubted him.

A violent tremor shook the wall, and the noise sent our perfect wedding portrait crashing to the ground.

Such a perfect metaphor.

"Kayla, did something happen?"

Leonard's urgent voice suddenly came from the doorway.

He looked worried, but the glistening smear at the corner of his mouth pierced straight through me.

I forced myself to appear calm, as if I had just woken.

"Nothing. I bumped the frame by accident."

He let out a long breath, tugged awkwardly at his rumpled shirt, and quickly turned away.

"I'll go take a shower."

As he disappeared into the bathroom, something compelled me to pick up the phone he had left on the couch.

I unlocked it quickly. Messages filled the screen, one after another, each one tightening around my lungs.

"Leonard, everything's arranged."

"Kayla is now listed as our hospital's latest experimental subject. We'll live stream the entire procedure. Hannah will do the surgery herself, so she's guaranteed to pass her probation."

"Livestreaming is brilliant. Hannah delivering her and Leonard's child on camera will push her to full-time status, and Kayla will blow up online too."