Chapter 1

At our wedding, my fiancé, Spencer Prescott, hired a total stranger to stand in for him as the groom.

The man wore a garish mask printed with Spencer's face, held a prop ring, and actually expected me to go through with the ceremony alongside him.

My hands were shaking as I dialed Spencer's number. I accidentally put the call on speakerphone.

Two seconds later, the sound of ragged breathing blared through the speakers.

"Baby, no one gets me going like you do. I've spent twelve years sharing a bed with Chloe, and looking at her reminds me of a slab of greasy meat. Honestly, she makes me sick."

The woman on the other end let out a flirtatious giggle.

"Oh no, I pressed answer by mistake. I think she just heard every word."

I recognized the voice immediately.

It was Vivian.

Spencer went quiet for two seconds, then laughed.

"Doesn't matter. She's an orphan. I've had her under my protection for twelve years, and now she's six months pregnant. Where the hell would she go if she left me? Who else would take her?"

He sighed with satisfaction. "Don't worry about her. She always comes crawling back eventually. Now, where were we? You up for round two, baby?"

The entire hall fell silent.

I stood frozen on the spot, as if someone had poured boiling oil straight into my heart.

Every word hurt me so much, and he hadn't spared a single thought for what any of it might do to me.

So this was what I got for loving him for twelve years. Trampled underfoot like it had never meant a thing.

Maybe he was right.

I always find a way to swallow the hurt and stay.

But not this time.

This time, I'd take what was left of my dignity and walk out of his life for good.

...

I ended the call and lifted the microphone with trembling hands.

"I'd like everyone here to witness this. I'm calling off this wedding. Right now."

"From this day on, Spencer Prescott and I are done. Whatever we had ends here."

Whispers erupted throughout the hall.

I couldn't bear to look at any of them. As I walked away, Spencer’s groomsmen called after me, laughing and jeering.

"Hey, Grandma, don’t be a buzzkill!"

"Spencer's busy with his little girl right now. Come on, let’s have some fun!"

I froze.

Someone scoffed, then deliberately planted a foot on the hem of my gown.

I went down before I could catch myself, and a sharp, wrenching pain tore through my lower abdomen.

The crowd roared with laughter.

I forced myself upright and called 911.

At the hospital, a nurse cut away the hem of my gown, which was soaked in blood.

"You're bleeding from your uterus. Can you get in touch with the baby's father?"

Before I could answer, my phone rang with the special ringtone I'd assigned to Spencer.

I thought maybe Spencer had heard I'd ended up in the hospital, and had finally gotten worried about me, even if only a little.

But when I picked up, all I heard was his heavy breathing on the other end.

The first thing out of his mouth was a reprimand.

"Chloe, you’re not even that sick. Did you really have to blow this out of proportion and call 911? Now all my buddies are stuck there wondering what the hell happened."

My belly cramped again.

I bit down hard, waiting for the pain to ease enough for me to speak.

"Spencer, the doctor says I'm at risk of losing the baby."

Silence fell on the other end for a couple of seconds.

"You're using the baby to threaten me again?"

Vivian's playful giggle drifted through the phone.

"Spencer, you stood her up at your own wedding and said all those cruel words. Maybe she really just wants you to come comfort her. How about I give you a thirty-minute break?"

Spencer laughed.

"Comfort her for what? You know better than anyone, she can do anything for attention."

After a few more lines of flirting, he finally turned his attention back to me.

"Chloe, you're not young anymore. Don't act like some jealous little girl who needs everyone to pay attention to her."

"Vivian's upset that you and I registered our marriage, and now I have to smooth things over with her. So once you're done putting on this little show, just go home."

Once, words like these would have left my heart aching for a long time.

But now, as I watched the nurse replace one blood-soaked gauze after another, I found I didn't even have the energy to argue.

I just hung up.

The doctor came in with the report and asked.

"There's significant bleeding at the edge of the placenta. We need to try to save the pregnancy. Will your family get here tonight?"

I was quiet for a few seconds. Then I said, "No, I don't want to save the pregnancy. Please schedule an abortion."

The doctor hesitated. "You're sure about that?"