For seven years, I worked three jobs to put my secret husband through medical school and residency. But on the day of my pregnancy checkup, I discovered that my best friend's devoted fiancé was my husband. While I was at risk of losing my baby, he held her in his arms and acted as if I didn't exist. The next day, my best friend's wealthy family and my mother-in-law publicly humiliated me at my office, framing me as a delusional homewrecker. To protect his fellowship and his new life, my husband threw our real marriage certificate into the trash in front of everyone. "I don't know where you got that fake marriage certificate," he said. "Stop making a scene. You're hurting my fiancée." I had sacrificed my youth, my family, and my health for him—only for him to hand my sacrifices over to his mistress and leave me and our unborn child to face a threatened miscarriage alone. I didn't shed another tear. I signed the divorce settlement, accepted an immediate overseas transfer, and vanished from their lives completely. Chapter 1 Jillian Patrick POV: For seven years, I worked three jobs to put my secret husband through medical school and residency. On the day of my pregnancy checkup, he replied, "Busy." Ten seconds later, I saw him rush into the clinic, pull my best friend into his arms, and say, "You're carrying my child. These chairs are too hard for you." I sat on a plastic chair two feet away, my phone screen still lit with that "Busy." Alexia poked her head out from Derek's arms, smiling so hard that tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She turned and grabbed my hand. "Jill, this is the Derek I told you about! Isn't he handsome? Derek, this is my best friend from college, Jillian." Derek's gaze moved from Alexia's face and landed on me. Three seconds of dead silence. His pupils contracted. All the color drained from his face. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his cheeks jumped. The hand resting on Alexia's waist stiffened into a claw. He knew me. He knew every inch of me. He knew the bank account number I used to wire money into his account on the first of every month. Then his face went flat, and in a calm, indifferent voice, he extended his hand. "Hello. Alexia talks about you often. It's nice to finally meet you." I didn't move. His right hand stayed in the air. There was a white scar on the knuckle of his index finger. Five years ago, when he was making our cheap anniversary dinner, he cut his hand while chopping vegetables, and I dug through the medicine cabinet at three in the morning and wrapped it until dawn. I slowly raised my hand and touched his palm. It was cold. The moment my fingertips touched him, he pulled back like he'd touched a live wire. "Jill's boyfriend is busy too," Alexia said with a smile, sitting back down and flashing the Cartier diamond bracelet on her wrist. "But my Derek makes time no matter how busy he is. Look, he had this delivered to my apartment this morning. He said a pregnant woman needs to feel pretty every single day." I glanced down at my own hand. No bracelet. On my ring finger there was only a band of skin paler than the rest—seven years of a wedding ring I had never dared wear in public. "Did your boyfriend text you back?" Alexia leaned over to look at my screen. "He said he's busy." "You need to make him step up," Alexia said, shaking her head. "A man who loves you will make time. Derek adjusted his entire surgical schedule today just to come with me. He even put together a Hawaii itinerary—first-class tickets, a private villa, even scheduled my foot massages between his conference meetings." I stared at the color-coded spreadsheet on her screen. Three days ago, I had sent Derek a photo of a crib in a shop window near my office. He replied: "Do not buy junk." I closed the chat and never sent him another picture. "But he replies to you fast," Alexia said, glancing at my lock screen. "At least he checks his messages. My guy sometimes goes three hours without a text because he's in surgery. You're lucky. He's reliable." "He's probably in surgery." I pressed my hand against my knee. "He promised he would never make me face something like this alone." Alexia patted her chest and smiled again. "Anyway, let's not talk about that. Today is a happy day. Jill, after your checkup, want to grab lunch together?" The nurse pushed the door open. "Alexia Morin?" "That's us!" Alexia started to step forward, but Derek bent down and swept her up into his arms. "Derek! Put me down, everyone is watching!" She laughed and hit him. "You're carrying my child," he said loudly enough for the entire waiting area to hear. "Until the doctor clears you for hard floors, you're not walking." Several older women nearby smiled and sighed. "What a wonderful man." I stood up, my canvas bag against my stomach, and followed behind them. Derek carried Alexia inside, his back straight. I walked five paces behind, alone. In the examination room, Derek held Alexia's hand the entire time, staring at the ultrasound screen. The machine filled the room with a steady thump-thump-thump. "Six weeks and four days. Very strong heartbeat," the technician said. Alexia cried. Derek's lips trembled, and he kissed her fingers. "We have a baby, Lexi. Our baby." I stood by the coat rack, my stomach still flat beneath my cotton shirt. The child inside me shared the same man's blood. But in this room, my child and I did not exist. The technician handed Derek the ultrasound slip. He took it with both hands, pulled out his phone and opened his notes app. "What vitamins should she take? Should she avoid stairs? What about caffeine? She drinks an iced latte every morning." The technician smiled. "One small cup a day is fine. Just make sure she takes folic acid." Derek typed rapidly. "I'll make all her meals myself from now on. Organic vegetables. I'll adjust my hospital schedule and drive her to work every day." I leaned against the wall. Three years ago, on a Tuesday night, I crouched on the bathroom floor of our rented apartment, clutching my lower abdomen while blood soaked through my sweatpants. I called Derek four times. He answered on the fifth, with the noise of the hospital cafeteria in the background. "Derek, something's wrong," I gasped through the pain. "I think I'm losing the baby." There was a long silence on the line. Then he let out a slow breath. "Miscarriages are common in early pregnancy, Jillian. It's just abnormal cells passing naturally. Put a heating pad on it and drink some tea. I have an emergency surgery in ten minutes." He hung up. I sat alone on the bathroom tiles until dawn. The next morning, he walked in, kicked off his shoes, threw his dirty clothes on the floor, saw my swollen eyes, and said, "Stop crying. You're being dramatic. Women miscarry every day. We'll try again when my career is settled." Now, watching him note down Alexia's iced latte intake, I had only one thought left: Derek wasn't incapable of caring. He was just cold to me. "You're a model husband." The technician smiled and handed Alexia a pamphlet. Derek put his arm around Alexia's shoulders and said clearly to the technician, "She is my everything. Her health and our child's future are the only things I care about." For seven years, I had hidden my wedding ring on a silver chain against my chest because he said going public would make his mother cut off his trust fund. "Just until I finish my fellowship," he promised me over and over. "Then I'll tell everyone." He was about to finish his fellowship. He told everyone Alexia's name. My name was wiped away completely. Dr. Evans opened the second chart and studied the lab results, her brow gradually knotting. "Jillian Patrick?" Dr. Evans called. "I'm here," I said, stepping out from the shadow of the cabinet. "Please lie down on the examination table, Jillian," the doctor said, her expression grave. "Your emergency blood work from this morning is back. We need to do an immediate pelvic ultrasound." Alexia paused by the door and turned around, frowning. "Doctor, is something wrong with Jill?" "Her progesterone and hCG levels are dangerously low," Dr. Evans said bluntly. "The exam shows significant bleeding, and the ultrasound confirms a severe threatened miscarriage." A cold weight dropped into my stomach. My hands flew to my belly. "Is the baby gone?" I whispered, my voice breaking. "Not yet," Dr. Evans said, setting down her tablet after a quick bedside scan. "The gestational sac is still intact, but the situation is critical. Starting today, you need complete bed rest. No lifting, no stress, and progesterone injections as prescribed." Dr. Evans looked around the small examination room, her eyes moving between me, Alexia, and Derek. "Who's here with you today?" Dr. Evans asked, looking directly at me. "Where is your partner? I need to speak with him immediately about the injection protocol and make sure you have someone with you at all times. You cannot be left alone right now." The room fell into dead silence. Alexia looked at me with deep sympathy. Derek stood by the door, both hands shoved deep into his suit pockets. His taut knuckles pushed against the expensive wool of his trousers. He stared fixedly at the linoleum floor, his lips pressed into a bloodless, paper-thin line. He did not speak. He did not step forward. He did not even dare look at me. The father of my endangered child stood less than a meter away, playing the role of another woman's devoted fiancé. I lowered my eyes, swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat, and looked up at Dr. Evans. "I don't have a partner," I said, my voice steady, clear, and without a tremor. "This baby has no father. As far as I'm concerned, I'm already divorced."

Jillian Patrick POV: Out of the corner of my eye, Derek's body jerked. His fingers twitched uncontrollably inside his pocket, as if he had been shocked. For a moment, he snapped his head up, his dark eyes filled with raw terror, fixed on me. But the next instant, he looked away, reached out to steady Alexia's elbow, as if she were the one who had just received bad news. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Jillian," Dr. Evans sighed, her eyes soft with pity. "In that case, you'll need to hire a nurse or have a close friend stay with you. You can't afford any risks right now." The pity in the doctor's eyes stung worse than any physical wound. I nodded stiffly, kept my back straight, and forced myself not to let a single tear fall. Ten minutes later, we walked out of the clinic into the blinding parking lot. The midday sun beat down on the asphalt, heat rising from the ground. My legs felt like lead, and a dull cramp radiated from my lower back. "Jill, in your condition, you can't take the subway," Alexia said, gripping my arm. "Derek, drive us to her apartment. We have to make sure she gets upstairs safely." "I can just call a cab." "Don't be ridiculous." Alexia pulled me toward a black Audi with no room for argument. "You almost lost your baby today! Derek is a doctor. He knows how to handle emergencies. Get in." The remote key clicked. Derek opened the rear door for me without meeting my eyes. "Get in," he muttered, his voice dry and tight. Alexia slid into the passenger seat, flipped down the sun visor, and turned on the air conditioning with practiced ease. I sat in the back, directly behind the passenger seat. This was Derek's car. When he'd just matched for his residency, I ate instant noodles for three straight months to help make the down payment on this exact Audi. And now I was curled up in the back like a silent outsider, watching my best friend sit with perfect ease in the passenger seat that legally should have been mine. Derek started the engine and pulled onto the main road. "I still can't believe that scumbag just dumped you," Alexia said, turning around to look at me, her face red with anger. "What kind of person hides a woman for seven years and then throws her away when she gets pregnant? A complete coward!" Derek's hands tightened on the steering wheel, veins bulging across his knuckles. "Alexia, drop it." "Why should I? She's my best friend! She wasted her entire twenties on a bastard who wouldn't even let her meet his parents! No wedding, no ring, and now her baby is in danger and he just walks away? Derek, you're a decent, kind man, so you probably can't even imagine someone that evil. But men like that deserve to rot in hell!" I looked up at the rearview mirror. Derek's gaze collided with mine. He shook his head a fraction of an inch, silently begging me to shut up. I met his eyes without backing down. "Alexia, he didn't just walk away," I said calmly. "The real reason we broke up is that he has no morals. He was sleeping with another woman behind my back the entire time." The car veered violently to the left. The tires screeched. Derek slammed on the brakes, the front nearly clipping the curb before he yanked the wheel back into the lane. "Derek! Watch out!" Alexia screamed, grabbing the dashboard. "Sorry… a dog ran out. I lost focus." In the mirror, his face was white as paper. Through the glass, he glared at me, his eyes cold with warning and fury. "See? Even Derek is disgusted by what that bastard did to you!" Alexia patted her chest and turned back to me. "Jill, tell me his name. My father's firm has top lawyers. We'll sue him until he spits out every last cent of child support!" I leaned back against the leather seat, pulled out my phone, opened my voice recorder, placed the phone face down on my knee, and looked out at the gray streets flashing past. "Don't worry about his name, Alexia. He'll pay for it himself." I looked back toward the driver's seat. "By the way, Alexia, you've never told me how you and Derek actually got together. How did you two meet again?"

Jillian Patrick POV: Alexia laughed, her anger vanishing instantly, replaced by pride and satisfaction. She settled back into the passenger seat and crossed her ankles. "Oh, it's such a romantic story," Alexia said, glancing sideways at Derek's rigid profile. "Back in college, he chased me for two whole years. To bring me coffee between classes, he took the commuter train across half the city to my campus. In the freezing cold, he would wait for hours outside my dorm just to walk me to the library." Her voice was full of shallow vanity. "Of course I played hard to get. My mother always taught me that men don't value what comes too easily. I kept him hanging for months. And you know what this crazy man did?" She reached out and playfully patted Derek's shoulder. Derek did not smile at all. His jaw was tight as iron, and his knuckles on the steering wheel were white. "Alexia, stop," Derek said in a low, hoarse voice. "No one wants to hear about old college drama. It's ancient history." "Oh, shut up and let me finish!" Alexia pouted, completely ignoring his interruption. "To make me jealous, he got so desperate that he actually said yes when some random girl at his school confessed to him." My breath caught in my throat. "Can you believe it, Jill?" Alexia laughed and turned to me. "He dated some poor, desperate girl just to test my reaction. That girl even cut ties with her family for him. Her parents had arranged a proper match for her back home, and she just ran away. Later she worked several jobs to support him, and Derek was only pretending to love her the whole time." "I used to feel sorry for her. She thought she was building a future with him, but Derek only ever had eyes for me." "Alexia! Shut up!" Derek roared, slamming his palm on the horn. The blare echoed wildly inside the cramped car. Alexia flinched and pulled her hand back. "Derek! What gives you the right to yell at me? I was just telling a funny story!" "It's not funny," Derek panted heavily, staring fixedly at the road ahead. "It's disrespectful. Don't bring it up again." I looked down at my hands folded in my lap. My nails dug into my palms hard enough to break the skin, but I felt no pain. Seven years ago, my parents had arranged a stable match for me back home—a kind schoolteacher. Derek knelt on the plastic floor of my dorm room, weeping. "Jillian, you are my only hope. If you marry him, my life is over. Marry me. I swear I will spend the rest of my life making you happy." I defied my father. My mother cried herself sick, and my father pointed at the door and said that if I walked out for a penniless medical student, I should never come back. I walked out anyway. I threw away my family, my inheritance, and my youth, all on one man. In the end, he had only used me as a pawn to provoke my best friend. Every night I stayed up doing bookkeeping, every meal I skipped to buy him anatomy textbooks—it was all an absurd farce. A hot tear slid down my cheek. I immediately wiped it away with the back of my sleeve. "Are you crying, Jill?" Alexia noticed. "Are you in pain? Is it the baby?" "It's just hormones," I said, my voice flat. "The doctor said my mood might fluctuate today." "Hang in there. We're almost at your place." Derek parked the Audi in front of my apartment building. A four-story redbrick walk-up with peeling paint and a rusty fire escape hanging off the front. "Oh, wow…" Alexia looked up at the stained brick wall. "Jill, once you get your child support, you really need to move out of here." She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to Derek. "Honey, carry her bag upstairs. The doctor said she can't lift anything heavy." Derek froze for three seconds, then pushed the door open. "I'll take it up. You wait in the car, Lexi. The stairwell is dirty and smells like trash. It's bad for the baby." "You're so sweet to me." Alexia leaned over and kissed his cheek. I carried my canvas bag into the apartment lobby. Derek followed with the pharmacy paper bag. In the narrow stairwell, there was only the sound of our footsteps and the muffled noise of a television from the second floor. When we reached the third floor, I had just put the key in the lock when Derek pushed in after me, shoved the door mostly shut behind him, grabbed my shoulders, and pinned me against the doorframe. It didn't latch all the way, leaving a narrow gap. He pressed his whole body against me, his breath full of mint and panic. "Jillian, let me explain." He lowered his head, trying to nuzzle my neck, his hands gripping my upper arms hard enough to crush bone. "Let go of me!" I hissed, shoving his chest with all my strength. He staggered back two steps, his messy hair falling over his forehead. "Are you insane? Don't you ever touch me again." "Jillian, please keep your voice down," he said, raising both hands. "Alexia is downstairs! If she comes up, everything is ruined!" "Ruined for whom, Derek? For you?" He wiped his face hard, and his voice shifted back into that condescending tone he had used on me for seven years. "You don't understand the situation. Alexia's father is the chairman of the hospital board! The fellowship in Boston was arranged by him! She's pregnant, fragile, and her family has money and power. If she finds out about us now, she'll lose the baby, and her father will destroy my future!" "What about the child in my belly, Derek?" I pointed at my abdomen. "Dr. Evans said I have signs of a threatened miscarriage. Didn't you hear her?" Derek glanced at my flat stomach. There was no warmth in his eyes, only cold calculation. "You stay in bed and rest. I'll transfer five thousand dollars tonight. Buy whatever medicine you need. Have the baby quietly and don't make a scene. After Alexia gives birth and my fellowship is secured, I'll arrange a nice townhouse for you. I'll take care of you and the child. You just have to wait." "Wait?" I let out a dry, cold laugh. "I waited seven years for you, Derek. And during those seven years, you were sleeping with my best friend." "I did it for our future!" he snarled, furious and ashamed, stepping closer again. "Alexia was only a stepping stone! Why can't you understand that?" "So my child and I should be your stepping stone?" The doorknob suddenly turned. The door was pushed open. Alexia stood in the hallway, holding up her phone, the camera pointed straight inside. She had just taken a photo, and the smile froze on her face. She looked at Derek's hand still hovering in the air, reaching toward my arm, then at me, backed into the corner of the entryway with nowhere to retreat. "What… what are you two doing?" Derek recoiled like he'd been caught red-handed, retreating two steps, fingers trembling as he straightened his suit jacket. "Lexi, I… I was just checking her pulse. She was feeling dizzy." Alexia did not even look at him. Her eyes were nailed to my face, and violent rage flared in them. She shoved her phone into her pocket, rushed forward, raised her right hand, and slapped me across the face with all her strength. The sharp crack echoed through the empty stairwell. My head snapped to one side, and a burning pain spread across my cheekbone. "You disgusting, backstabbing bitch!" Alexia shrieked, her whole face twisted with hatred. "I went with you to the clinic! I had my fiancé drive you home! I turn my back for one second, and you can't wait to throw yourself at him?" I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and reached into my canvas bag to stop the recording. "I recorded that slap. Touch me again, and I'll call the police." Alexia froze for a moment, then sneered. "You'll call the police? You seduced my fiancé, and you'll call the police?" I looked at her and turned off the recording screen. "Alexia, you slapped the wrong person." I wiped the blood from my mouth. "Your fiancé got married seven years ago."