The next morning, Alexander didn't return home. I wasn't surprised to find him missing. It wasn't unusual. His assistant, Edward Seville, called multiple times, looking for him, saying he hadn't arrived at the office.

How would I know? He usually avoided dealing with me.

Putting it all together, there was only one place I could think of: somewhere with Colleen, probably an OB-GYN's office.

I was also going somewhere. After making an appointment, I took a cab to the hospital. I knew that my baby was no longer inside me. I wanted to rush to the hospital last night, but I couldn't muster the strength. Since Alexander didn't want the baby, it was better for it not to be born than to face such a cruel reality.

The doctor sadly announced that I had miscarried.

With a heavy heart, I completed the necessary tests to ensure my body was okay, and then I went to settle the bills. As I was finishing, I bumped into two familiar figures: my husband and his ex.

Alexander quickly gave me an accusing look, almost scolding. "Veronica? What are you doing here?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I shifted my eyes to his ex. She avoided my gaze and tried to reason with my husband.

"Alex, don't speak to her like that. Why can't she be here? Maybe she also wanted to see the baby." Colleen looked at me innocently as she caressed her still flat belly. "Veronica must be here just to check on us, right?"

Her words really bothered me. I could only pretend to laugh and respond, "Yeah, you're right. How could I not be here?"

I gave Colleen a meaningful look. "After all, it's the baby of MY. OWN. HUSBAND. I should ensure that it is growing well."

Colleen suddenly paled and defended, "I k-know. Please don't misunderstand."

"Oh, did I misunderstand something?" I scoffed. "Aside from it not being in my womb, isn't it Alexander's child? As his legal wife, I should have a say on this. What do you think?"

Alexander intervened, shoving me away in the process. "What are you doing, Veronica? Stop making trouble. If you want to check the child, then just check it. Don't say anything unnecessary."

I had just had a miscarriage, so his slight shove was enough to knock me to the ground. I winced as I felt the dull pain creeping up in my abdomen. Colleen came forward to help me, but out of Alexander's sight, she gave me a mocking smile.

I shoved her away, feeling a wave of disgust. I tried to steady myself against the wall, but she collapsed beside me, clutching her stomach and crying out dramatically, as if in pain. She even had the nerve to look at me with hurt in her eyes, as though questioning why I’d pushed her after she'd tried to help me up.

Alexander rushed to Colleen's side, helping her up before turning to me, fury in his eyes. "If anything happens to her, Veronica, you'll regret it!"

Pain surged through me, cold sweat beading on my skin as I watched him care for her. I couldn’t tell if the ache came from the physical strain or the emptiness inside me. In that moment, I realized it was probably for the best that the baby was gone—because a man who couldn’t love his wife would never love his child.

When I returned to the villa, I logged onto Facebook, desperate to vent to my friends. But before I could, Colleen's latest post caught my eye—a photo of a man's back.

I recognized it instantly.

It was Alexander.

Her caption read: "Having a man who loves me makes me feel so safe."

The comments were all from his friends:

Sebastian Go: "That doesn’t look like your husband’s back, ha!"

Nash Dan: "Nice one! You've won back your goddess!"

Lester Morris: "So this is the sperm donor. Congrats!"

Alexander tried to rein in his friends with a thinly veiled reprimand:

Alexander: "Come on, boys, I’m just helping out. You trying to drive my wife away?"

His buddies liked the comment and fell silent—except for Sebastian.

Sebastian: "Don’t act like that! She’s not worth it. You’ve been with Colleen since high school, and everyone knows you can’t let her go. Stop fooling yourself!"

Sebastian, Alexander’s lifelong best friend, never liked me. To him, I wasn’t good enough—never as pretty or perfect as Colleen. He made sure I knew it.

But now, with thoughts of divorce weighing heavily on my heart, I felt a chilling detachment. I typed my response: “Don’t worry. That’ll happen soon.”

Then I uploaded two photos — my ultrasound and the miscarriage certificate. Tears blurred my vision as I hit send, a haunting ache settling deep within me, leaving me to wonder if I’d ever be whole again.

My caption read: “My dad didn’t want me, so my mom let me go. I hope you’re happy.”

Within moments of posting the photos, my phone erupted with notifications. Messages poured in from family—my parents and in-laws— but none from Alexander. I waited an hour, foolishly hoping he might reach out, thinking there could still be a chance for reconciliation. His silence, however, only deepened my regret.

Finally, I texted my mom: "I'll be home later. I'll explain everything then."

I hurriedly packed my things and drove to my parents' house. As soon as I walked in, they cornered me with a barrage of questions. Mom’s eyes were puffy and red from crying, and even Dad looked shaken, though he tried to mask it.

When I shared the news about Alexander's "sperm donation," Mom pulled me into a tight hug, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed, "I warned you he’d hurt you!"

Dad remained silent, smoking a cigarette, his hand resting on the gun tucked in his waistband. After a long pause, he finally muttered, "Good riddance."

My parents had never liked Alexander. I had pursued him for seven years, and when he finally agreed to date me, I ignored all the warnings, believing I could make him fall in love. I was clearly mistaken.

I learned the hard way that love cannot be forced. A decade of my life taught me that painful truth all too well.

A day later, I saw Alexander pulling into my parents' driveway. He jumped out of the car and stormed over. The men guarding the house moved to stop him, but I waved them off, letting him approach.

"Veronica, what the hell is going on?" He looked me over, his eyes landing on my stomach. "You had a miscarriage? How did this happen?"

I stared at him, numb.

"And why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?"

His questions made me nauseous, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue. Ignoring his anger, I turned to close the door.

He grabbed my arm, gripping it tightly. "Is this about Colleen? I told you, once the baby’s born, I’m cutting ties with her! I’ve made sacrifices for us. What more do you want?"

His shamelessness hit me like a punch, and I couldn’t hold back—I slapped him hard. "I’m not worth it, right? You should find someone better. The divorce papers are on the way. Sign them."

I yanked my arm free, signaling the guards my father had left to protect me. Alexander glanced at them warily and stepped back. As I walked away, I heard him yell, "If you leave now, don’t expect me to take you back!"

Come back? Not a chance. In fact, I should thank him. This whole mess made me realize how much better off I am without him.

For weeks, Alexander still hadn't signed the divorce papers. It wasn’t until my father threatened him that he finally texted me.

[I'll come by tomorrow, make Sebastian and the others apologize. Stop overreacting. I'm tired of this. Don’t make me choose between you and Colleen.]

[Look, I said I'd distance myself, but she's pregnant and needs help. You know her husband's not around.]

As always, Alexander pretended to be torn, but his actions spoke louder than his words. He consistently chose Colleen. We'd had this argument countless times. He always found an excuse—claiming he stayed close to her for the benefit of her Mafia family, that without her connections, his family's business would collapse.

Same story, different day.

When Alexander noticed I hadn't replied, he called me right away. "Darling, I’ve booked a restaurant for everyone to apologize. Please don’t make a scene."

I replied casually, "Is Colleen coming?"

"Of course," he said. "So, how about it?"

"Fine," I answered. "But if they want to apologize, it better be sincere, not just for show."

"I know. I've already told them." He paused, his hesitation evident. "Should I drive you tomorrow?"

"No need," I countered. "It’s better to handle this separately."

Alexander hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but sensing my resolve, he reluctantly accepted my decision.

The next day, I arrived late to find Alexander and his friends waiting, dissatisfaction etched on their faces. Wasting no time, I slapped the divorce papers into Alexander's hands before he could voice a complaint.

His shock was palpable as he read the documents, his face flushing with anger. "I told you they'd apologize! Why are you still bringing this up?"

Colleen, seated beside him, was in tears as she tried to soothe him. "It's my fault! If it weren't for me, she wouldn't have had a miscarriage, and you wouldn't be divorcing!"

"How could it possibly be your fault?" Alexander frowned, shifting his focus between us. "Is this some sort of joke? Are you trying to threaten me?"

Before I could respond, Colleen seized the moment, brandishing a knife and pointing it at her stomach. "Then let's not have this baby! I feel guilty!"

Alexander rushed to intervene. "Veronica, how sick are you? Blaming an unborn child?"

Exhaustion washed over me as I sat down. My expression was void of emotion. "Since you won't sign the divorce papers, I've sought help from someone," I said coolly.

They all stared at me, curiosity piqued.

I smiled and gestured to the side, where a man stepped into view. His stoic demeanor radiated danger.

"W-Why are you here?" Colleen stammered, her eyes wide at the sight of her husband.