1 My wife, Sarah, had a congenital heart defect. And she wanted to have a baby for her first love, Ryan. I refused, without a second thought. Ten months later, Ryan’s mother passed away. They said she died with her eyes wide open, heartbroken that she’d never held a grandchild. Crushed by guilt, Ryan killed himself in his cramped rental apartment. And then Sarah, on a family road trip she’d insisted we take, floored the accelerator and swerved our car directly into the path of a semi-truck. "You killed him!" she shrieked, her voice a terrifying mix of glee and madness in the final moments. "If you had just let me give him a child, he wouldn't be dead!" "His family is gone," she screamed over the blare of the horn, "so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" And then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day she first asked. This time, I smiled. "Sarah, darling, of course. We'll all support you." ... "Eric, I need to have a baby for Ryan." The first thing I heard when my eyes snapped open was her voice, the same words that had started the nightmare. She launched into her practiced speech. "Ryan's mother was my mentor, you know? She's terminally ill, the doctors say she has less than a year. Her only wish is to hold a grandchild before she goes. Ryan doesn't know who else to ask, so…" "Say no more, Sarah. I agree." I reached out, my hand closing over hers with a sincerity that was pure performance. Sarah froze, her face a mask of disbelief. "Eric, did you… did you hear what I just said?" "I heard you." My voice was a soft, understanding caress. "I know how much Ryan's mother means to you. If it weren't for her, you never would have come to this city for college, and we never would have met. In a way, she's our benefactor." My earnestness seemed to disarm her. The wariness in her eyes softened. "I'm so glad you see it that way. And don't worry, Ryan and I already talked it through. We'll use IVF, so there won't be… you know. We would never betray you. But, for it to work legally, I'll need to divorce you first and marry him. The baby needs to be on his birth certificate, legally part of his family." She watched my face like a hawk as she spoke, waiting for the explosion. But it never came. Even the mention of divorce didn't faze me. I just nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers. The legal process takes some time, though. Given the urgency with his mother, you and Ryan should probably get started on the… preparations… today." My calm acceptance was finally too much for her. A flicker of suspicion returned to her eyes. "Eric, don't you mind? Not even a little?" Mind? Of course, I minded. I couldn't imagine a single man on earth who wouldn't mind his wife having a baby for another man. Especially with Sarah's heart condition. It was the entire reason I’d gotten a vasectomy the day after our wedding—to prevent any accidents that could put her life at risk. Last time, her request had sent me into a rage. I had vehemently refused, calling it insane, and even told her parents, hoping they would talk sense into her. Under pressure from everyone, Sarah had relented. But ten months later, Ryan’s mother died, whispering about the shame of facing her ancestors without a grandchild, her eyes refusing to close even in death. She was Ryan’s last living relative. A few days after the funeral, he hanged himself in his apartment. Before he did, he sent Sarah a long, rambling email. The gist of it was that while other women could have borne his child, he only ever wanted one with her. If she had given him a child, his mother wouldn't have died in such sorrow. He would have still had a family in this world. Reading that email, learning of Ryan’s death, shattered her. She blamed me. She twisted reality until I became the villain who had murdered them both. She suggested a road trip to "clear our heads." My parents came along. On the highway, she hit the gas, her face lit with a horrifying, ecstatic grin as she aimed us at the grille of a truck. "If you hadn't stopped me, Eric, Ryan and I would have a child! He wouldn't be dead! You killed him!" "He lost his whole family, so now you and yours get to die too!" My parents and I never had a chance. We were crushed under the wheels. The memory was a phantom ache, sharp and familiar, piercing my chest. But the smile on my face never wavered. I pulled Sarah into my arms, crushing her against me in a display of profound affection. "Whatever you want to do, I'll support you," I murmured into her hair. "If I'm worried about anything, it's your health. You have to promise me you'll take care of yourself through all this. Promise me." 2 The next morning, Ryan was at our door to take Sarah for a "check-up." They stood in front of me, holding hands, not a shred of shame between them as they walked to his car. Seeing them together, the sheer, laughable idiocy of my past self hit me like a physical blow. Sarah had been tutored by Ryan’s mother in high school. Naturally, she and Ryan had started dating, a romance that lasted all the way through college. But when it came time to discuss marriage, Sarah’s mother found out Ryan came from a single-parent home, with no car and no apartment in the city, and she forcibly broke them up. Shortly after, I met Sarah. I was instantly smitten. I pursued her for six months before she finally agreed to let me meet her parents. My family’s wealth was more than enough to satisfy her mother, who practically pushed us down the aisle. In my last life, I truly believed they had lost touch. I thought Sarah had only heard about his mother's illness through an old alumni group chat. It wasn't until I found gigabytes of chat logs on her phone that I saw the truth: they had never stopped talking. He sent her "good morning" and "good night" texts every single day. Their conversations had long ago crossed the line from friendship into something else entirely. After their car pulled away, I called my lawyer and told him to start drafting the divorce agreement. The call had barely ended when a flashy sports car screeched to a halt in my driveway. Leo, Sarah’s younger brother. He was a real piece of work, a spoiled brat who knew how to cause trouble. In the five years Sarah and I were married, she funneled him money from our accounts every year. The kid burned through tens of thousands of dollars annually. In my past life, I was so blindly in love with Sarah that I let her convince me her family was my family. A little money was nothing, I could always earn more. And so Leo had gotten used to hitting me up for cash under any and every pretext. If I remembered correctly, he was here today about an investment. He and a friend wanted to open some small factory and needed seed money. I’d seen the proposal last time—it was a joke. It promised quick, small returns upfront, but the business model was a minefield of hidden costs and liabilities that would lead to bankruptcy. Last time, I shut it down. This time, I looked over the file and told him, "This is a solid bet, Leo. Looks promising." His eyes lit up. "So, you'll spot me fifty grand, brother-in-law? We'll split the profits seventy-thirty, your favor." I closed the folder with a sigh of feigned regret. "Leo, my hands are tied. I just sank all my liquid cash into a new equipment order. But this is a golden opportunity. Don't you still have that apartment I got you? Sell it. Use that cash to get in on the ground floor. Once my funds free up next month, I'll buy you an even nicer place." I’d always been good to him, so he didn't question a word. All his money, including the deed to that apartment, had come from me. Lured by my promise, he sold the apartment that very afternoon and poured every last cent into the doomed factory. I was deeply satisfied with this outcome. I knew I'd never get back the money I'd given him, but if I couldn't have it, I sure as hell wasn't letting the Sullivan family keep it. Shortly after Leo left, my private investigator called. He told me Sarah and Ryan never went to the hospital. I just said, "I know." For the next few days, Ryan and Sarah left together every morning. I showed no signs of impatience. In fact, I’d often ask how the "process" was going, if everything was proceeding smoothly. Two weeks later, Sarah showed me a positive pregnancy test. "That's wonderful news," I said, my eyes fixed on the two pink lines. A strange feeling settled in my gut. I’d already done my research. A proper IVF cycle required at least two months of prep time, and even then, getting pregnant wasn't guaranteed on the first try. She was pregnant in just two weeks. The method they had used was painfully obvious. Seeing that I suspected nothing, Sarah let out a visible sigh of relief. And then, she finally remembered her own health. "Eric, you know about my heart," she began, her tone shifting to one of delicate fragility. "Now that I'm pregnant, I think I should rest at home. And… Ryan's mother is getting worse. She wants to see him get married, to see him happy. I want to give her that. Is that okay?" I nodded. "Of course." "Oh, you're the best, Eric." She hugged me. "It's just… a wedding costs money. And you know Ryan's situation… I was thinking, maybe we could cover the cost?" 3 I couldn't believe the audacity. It was one thing to cheat on me, to carry another man's child. But to ask me to pay for their wedding? She had to be playing me for the world's biggest fool. A cold, bitter laugh coiled in my gut, but my face only showed distress. "That's a reasonable request, Sarah, but the timing is terrible. The company is in a tight spot right now, all our capital is tied up, and the board is watching every penny. And now that you're pregnant, you're my priority. Your heart, Sarah… I've been so worried. I already hired a private medical team to be on call for you 24/7. I just can't move any more funds." The thought of no wedding soured her expression. "Then what are we supposed to do? Ryan really doesn't have the money for a wedding." "Why doesn't he borrow it for now?" I suggested, ever the problem-solver. "When our divorce goes through, I'll be extra generous in the settlement. The board won't question that. You can use that money to pay everyone back." Sarah considered it for a moment, and to my dark amusement, she agreed. Ryan borrowed the money, and they quickly threw together a wedding. Fearing her parents would find out, Sarah only invited Ryan’s relatives and friends, keeping her side of the guest list completely empty. The wedding was that morning. By the afternoon, the videographer had sent the full wedding video to my inbox. I had, in fact, spent a fortune on a top-tier medical team to look after Sarah. They monitored her daily, ensuring she ate only the best, most nutritious food. Expensive prenatal vitamins and supplements were part of her daily regimen. I doted on the child in her womb as if it were my own. Sarah, of course, didn't stay cooped up at home. Whenever she had a spare moment, she was at the hospital with Ryan. I turned a blind eye to all of it. Thanks to my meticulous "care," the baby in her womb grew larger and healthier than average. An unborn child is, in a way, a parasite. The healthier the child, the greater the strain on the mother. For a normal woman, this is manageable. For Sarah, with her defective heart, it was a ticking time bomb. By the fifth month, her heart was already struggling to keep up. Some of her vitals were dipping into dangerous territory. But with the elite medical team there to immediately treat any discomfort, to soothe every flutter and ache, she had no idea how precarious her situation was becoming. Meanwhile, there was a positive development for Ryan’s mother. They had found a potential kidney donor. All they had to do was wait for the donor to pass, and she could have the transplant. The surgery, however, required a substantial sum of money. Sarah came to me. I gave her the same excuse about the company's finances. So Ryan went to loan sharks. He figured that once I divorced Sarah, her massive settlement would be more than enough to cover the debt. The moment the doctors told me the fetus was past four months—a point where either carrying it to term or aborting it would pose a life-threatening risk to Sarah—a profound sense of relief washed over me. The net had been cast for a long time. It was time to settle the accounts. I called Sarah. "Sarah, let's sign the divorce papers. Otherwise, you won't be able to get a birth certificate for your and Ryan's child." After hearing this, Sarah and Ryan rushed over, practically vibrating with eagerness. She'd been nagging me about the divorce for weeks, and I'd kept putting it off. The meeting was in my office. My lawyer was present. Before signing, Sarah’s eyes scanned the document, going straight to the asset division clause. When she saw the line stating she would be leaving the marriage with nothing, her composure shattered. She stabbed a finger at the page. "What is this? When we divorce, assets are supposed to be split fifty-fifty. Why am I getting nothing?" I spread my hands wide. "It's a sham divorce, remember? Just a formality. What does the asset split matter? Unless… you were planning on taking my money and running?" My words hit their mark. A blush crept up her neck. She shot a nervous glance at Ryan, then hardened her resolve. "It's better to have everything clearly defined. Just in case… something unexpected happens." Unexpected happens. Right. As if I didn't know they'd rekindled their old flame and were planning to run off with half my fortune to live happily ever after. "Fine. Let's get clear," I said, pulling a stack of glossy photos from a file. "You committed adultery during our marriage. Therefore, you leave with nothing. Any objections?"
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