I was two months pregnant when I drank the "wellness tonic" Ken had his assistant deliver to my office. Within minutes, the world tilted. A jagged, white-hot blade of pain ripped through my abdomen, and I collapsed. By the time the paramedics wheeled me into the ER, the pain had blurred my vision into a hazy, pulsing red. I was drifting, caught between the sterile smell of the hospital and the cold reality of what was happening. Then, through the thin curtain of the recovery room, I heard Ken’s voice. He was on the phone, his tone a sharp, hushed hiss. "Who told you to send the abortifacients? Did I not tell you—specifically—never to take initiative on this?" Julia’s voice came through the speaker, trembling and thick with performative tears. "But you’ve been having me pick up her 'supplements' for five years, Ken. You’ve been giving her those birth control drops since the wedding. I thought... I thought you didn't want the baby. I thought I was helping." She sobbed, a sound that made my skin crawl. "I’m sorry! I didn't mean it. Since I took a life, I’ll just... I’ll pay for it with mine!" A long, heavy silence followed. I waited for him to roar, to threaten her, to call the police. Instead, I heard a weary, resigned sigh. "I didn't mean that, Julia. It’s just... you were too obvious. I’m not sure I can hide this from Margot." He paused, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying intimacy. "I told you, our situation stays between us. Margot can never find out. That is my absolute line. I’ll cover for you this time, but don't ever go rogue again." When I finally opened my eyes in the dim light of the ward, Ken was there. He wasn't the cold strategist I’d just heard on the phone. He was a man undone. He dropped to his knees by my bed, the sound of his knees hitting the linoleum echoing like a gunshot. Then, he began to slap himself. Hard. Crack. Crack. "It’s my fault," he choked out, his eyes bloodshot. "The nurse... she swapped the labels. A horrific, localized error. I’ve already had her fired and blacklisted from every hospital in the state. Margot, baby, please don’t cry. We’re young. We’ll have another one..." I looked at him—at the handsome face I had loved since I was twenty, the eyes that used to burn for me. Now, all I saw was a stranger wearing my husband’s skin. I knew then. It was time to leave. 1 For a second, I wished I hadn't woken up. The physical pain was a dull throb now, but the hollow ache in my womb was a constant, screaming reminder of the truth. Ken knelt there, his cheek swollen and red from his own blows, looking every bit the grieving father. "Margot, please. Say something. Anything. You’re scaring me." When I remained silent, he shifted closer, his knees dragging across the floor. He took my hand—the one with the IV drip—and pressed it to his face. "I handled it, I promise. That nurse will never work in healthcare again. I made sure of it." "We’ll have another one." The irony was a bitter poison in my throat. We had been married for five years. For five years, I had dreamed of a nursery, of tiny socks, of a life we built together. Every time I went for a check-up, the doctors said I was "delicate" and needed "hormonal balancing." To prepare my body, I drank the tonics he brought home every night. I endured a thousand needle pricks, my stomach a map of tiny blue bruises from the "fertility injections." I threw away boxes of empty syringes, month after month, year after year. Ken had been so supportive. He told me he’d consulted top specialists in Switzerland, spending a fortune on "designer supplements" with minimal side effects. I had poisoned myself for half a decade on his command. It wasn't medicine. It was a chemical gatekeeper. He took my hand again, trying to force me to hit him. I yanked it back, tears finally spilling over. "Ken, I’m not an idiot," I whispered. "Where is Julia?" I asked, my voice gaining a jagged edge. "Bring her here. I want to hear her say it." Ken’s brow furrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face before he masked it with concern. "Julia is just a kid, Margot. She’s only two years out of grad school. She’s messy and she makes mistakes, but believe me, this had nothing to do with her." I let out a jagged, self-deprecating laugh. I was about to scream the truth at him when the door pushed open. Julia walked in, wearing a mask of practiced sorrow. "Oh, Margot! Thank God you're awake. Ken was going to fire me on the spot if you didn't pull through." She set a bag of takeout on the nightstand. "I didn't know what you’d want to eat, so I just grabbed something from that bistro Ken likes. Try to eat a little?" She sat on the edge of my bed, her voice tilting into a condescending croon. "I know the baby is gone, but life has to go on. You have to look forward, Margot. For Ken’s sake." The rage hit me like a physical wave. I swung my arm, the IV line tugging painfully, and caught her square across the jaw. 2 The slap rang out like a whip crack. For a heartbeat, the room went dead silent. Then, the masks slipped. "Done playing the victim?" I spat. "This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it?" Julia collapsed into a heap of theatrical sobs, clutching her face. "How can you say that? How was I supposed to know the hospital made a mistake? I know you're hurting, Margot, but you can’t just take your anger out on me!" Ken moved faster than I’d ever seen him. He stepped between us, shielding her, his eyes flashing with a cold fury directed at me. "Margot, that’s enough!" "I explained the medicine to you! It was an accident! Just because you’re grieving doesn't give you the right to assault my staff!" I dug my nails into my palms, the sting of the IV forgotten. "I’m the one who lost a child! I’m the one who almost bled out on a cold table while they scraped my insides out! And you’re telling me to be civil? Ken, swear to me. Swear on your life you aren't sleeping with her!" "You’re being hysterical!" he roared. "Julia and I are professional. Period. I swear to God, if I’ve betrayed you, may I be struck dead where I stand! Is that what you want? Should I jump out the window? Would my death make you feel better about the baby?" He was panting, his chest heaving. "Look at you, Margot. Look at the way you're acting. You look like a madwoman." The words felt like a physical blow to the chest. My heart, already fractured, felt like it was being ground into dust. Seeing he had gone too far, his voice softened, though it remained brittle. "Julia and I have work to discuss. You need to calm down. What's done is done. Arguing about it won't bring the pregnancy back." They turned together and walked out of the room. I waited ten seconds. Then, with trembling hands, I ripped the IV needle out of my vein. I ignored the trickle of blood and slipped into the hallway, following them. I found them in the stairwell. They didn't even wait to get to the car. They were pressed against the concrete wall, kissing with a desperate, hungry intensity. The sounds of their breathing filled the small space. Finally, they broke apart. Julia playfully punched his chest. "Jerky," she pouted. "You were so mean just now. You actually scared me." "I told you not to come in there," Ken grumbled, though his hands were moving down her waist. "Margot is unstable. If I hadn't stepped in, she would have clawed your eyes out. What am I supposed to do if I can't protect you?" Julia giggled, leaning into him. "Then let her hit me. It’s worth it as long as I get to take care of you later." "You little demon," Ken groaned, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to be the death of me." "I have a surprise for you tonight, Mr. CEO. Something you’ve been begging for. You'll have to come over to unwrap it..." The air in the stairwell felt like it was disappearing. I turned and stumbled back to my room, collapsing into the bed before they could return. When Ken came back, he didn't stay. He didn't even look at me. "I’ll have the driver pick you up when you're discharged," he said coldly. "Focus on your recovery." He never came back. I checked myself out the next morning and took an Uber home. That night, a notification chirped on my phone. A text from Ken: Going to London for three days. Business. Just wired you fifty thousand. Get yourself something nice. Think of it as an apology. The adult world is built on things you can't say out loud—on rage you swallow and faces you save. I sat on our silk-sheeted bed and stared at our wedding photo on the nightstand. He was holding me on a beach in Maui, his smile bright and wild. I could almost feel the phantom warmth of that breeze. But that girl was dead. And the man in the photo was a ghost. Five years ago, we were the "it" couple of the city’s social scene. He had chased me with a persistence that was legendary. Back then, people in our circle joked about it. "Ken Maxwell? Oh, you mean Margot Thorne’s lapdog?" 3 I had been the ice queen back then, barely sparing him a glance. My family was old money, stable, untouchable. Until it wasn't. I’ll never forget the night the foundations crumbled. My father’s long-term affair went public, and the fallout was nuclear. My mother, usually the paragon of grace, became someone I didn't recognize. I watched her hold a kitchen knife to her own throat, screaming at my father to end it with the other woman and send their secret son away. Her desperation didn't buy her an ounce of mercy. My father didn't even look at her with pity. He looked at her with disgust. The next morning, the scandal was the only thing people talked about. My mother, in a fit of vengeful madness, liquidated assets and sabotaged the family firm, thinking that if she ruined him, he’d have to stay. Instead, the company went bankrupt. My father handed her divorce papers while standing amidst twenty billion dollars of debt. He preferred financial ruin to another day in her presence. The papers were never signed. My mother walked into the Atlantic Ocean two days later. My father fled to Europe with his mistress and the boy. And I became the city’s favorite punchline. Suddenly, no one wanted to be near me. The only people who looked my way were the trust-fund brats I’d once looked down upon. They offered me a hundred bucks for a night, telling me the great Margot Thorne was now worth less than a girl on a street corner. My dignity was a crumpled rag in the mud. I was ready to follow my mother into the dark. I had the pills laid out on the counter. That’s when Ken appeared. He put his entire career on the line, using his rising firm to shield me. He chased me all over again, not as a lapdog, but as a protector. He spent millions on our hundred-day anniversary just to show the world I was still a queen. Our wedding was the event of the season. In front of five hundred people, he knelt and swore, "Margot is my life. I will spend every breath I have protecting our home." The dignity he had salvaged for me back then, he was now dragging through the filth with his own hands. I picked up the wedding photo, ready to smash it against the wall, when my phone buzzed. An unknown number. A GPS pin for a high-end lounge downtown. I knew what I would find. I went anyway. Standing outside the private VIP booth, I saw him. Ken, the man who was supposed to be in London, was surrounded by his inner circle, laughing and clinking glasses. Julia was draped across his lap in a dress that left nothing to the imagination. Scandal travels fast. One of his friends smirked, leaning in. "So, the Ice Queen lost the heir? You’re not home playing nurse? How do you have the heart to be out drinking with us?" In the old days, Ken would have defended me with a terrifying intensity. Now, he just looked annoyed. "Don't start. I don't know what it is lately, but looking at Margot just makes my head ache. I can’t even have a conversation with her. I say one word, and she’s looking for a hidden meaning." He took a long pull of his scotch. "I go home to relax, not to add to my stress. To be honest, the thought of walking through my front door feels like a stone sitting on my chest. If I keep this up, I’ll be a shell of a human in two years." His friends roared with laughter. "You chased her so hard, man! Five years and you're already bored?" "I wouldn't say bored," Ken mused, his eyes tracking Julia’s hands. "Just... full. You know? You eat steak every night for five years, eventually, you just want a burger." Someone chimed in, "They say a kid fixes everything. Why’d you pull the plug on the pregnancy anyway? Why not just let her have it?" 4 Ken’s gaze flickered to Julia. "Go wait in the car, honey. I’ll be out in a minute." Julia gave him a coy, knowing look. "Fine. But remember my surprise. Don't be late." She slipped out. I pressed myself into the shadows of the hallway until she passed, then moved back to the door. Ken’s voice was cold now, clinical. "I’m young. I don’t want a kid tying me down. You think I could come out and do this if there was a baby at home?" His friend nodded, understanding the logic. "And the girl? The secretary? She’s a hell of a consolation prize. Bet she’s more fun in bed than Margot, huh?" Ken smirked. "It’s not even a competition. You eat high-end French cuisine your whole life, then you try some spicy street food... you realize what you’ve been missing." "You should've told me this years ago," Ken added, a dark glint in his eye. "Told you what?" "That I should’ve finished playing the field before I put a ring on it. Anyway, drink up. No more talk about the ball and chain." I don't remember leaving the lounge. By the time I regained focus, I was standing on a street corner, soaked to the bone. A light sleet was falling, the icy slush washing away the last embers of my warmth. In the blurred reflections of the puddles, I thought I saw the twenty-year-old Ken. He was smiling at me. Margot, why aren't you home? I was worried. Don't be afraid. I’m your family now. We have no secrets. I reached out, wanting to fall into those phantom arms and sob. My body lurched forward, but there was nothing but cold air. The vision shattered. A taxi driver honked, swerving around me. "You trying to get killed? Watch where you're going, lady!" I got home at 1:00 AM, shivering. The unknown number messaged again. This time, it was a video. The background was a floor-to-ceiling hotel window overlooking the city. Two silhouettes were entwined. Julia’s voice, breathless: "Ken, who do you love? Look at me." "You." "No, say my name." "Julia... I love you." "Am I better than her?" "You're a little demon. You know you are." "Ken, let me have your baby. A real one." "Whatever you want, baby. Anything..." The video cut off. A text followed immediately: Do you know why you only got pregnant once in five years? Because the 'supplements' Ken gave you were birth control. I bought them myself. He wouldn't let you carry his child, but he's letting me. You lost. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my soul. I dragged myself up and walked into his study. On the bookshelf sat a large glass jar filled with a thousand hand-folded paper stars. He had given it to me on our first anniversary. He told me I had all the jewelry in the world, so he wanted to give me something that cost nothing but time. Inside every star, he said, was a reason he loved me. He told me we’d add one for every day we were together, and when we were old, we’d sit in rocking chairs and read them together. I hadn't noticed that the level of stars hadn't changed in a long time. I unscrewed the lid and unfolded a few. The handwriting was a ghost of a man who once loved me. Bought Margot a necklace today. Told her it was a million, but it was three. Don't be mad when you read this in fifty years. Margot said I look hot in casual clothes. I’m banning suits at the office starting Monday. It’s my birthday, and Margot dressed herself up as my 'gift.' Best day of my life.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "419179", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel