Three Months Pregnant, I Left With His Twins Chapter 01

Three Months Pregnant, I Left With His Twins Chapter 01

At twelve weeks pregnant, I told my fiancé, Nathaniel Westbury, that we were done.

He frowned at me.

“What are you pulling this time? Just because my mother said we shouldn’t keep this baby right now, you’re using a breakup to force me to pick sides?”

“Yeah.”

He started to lose patience.

“Fine. Go back to the apartment and rest. I’ll talk to her.”

I stayed quiet.

His assistant called, and he turned away to answer without even noticing anything was wrong with me.

“Book two first-class tickets to St. Barts. I’m taking her away this weekend to relax.”

That “her” wasn’t me.

He hung up, turned back, and told me we would talk another day.

But he didn’t know I had just gotten the test results.

I was pregnant with twins.

I made the call.

“Aunt Vivian, help me arrange everything for Vancouver.”

Since the Westburys didn’t want this baby. When the girls were born, they would be Iris Hart and Eden Hart.

The name Westbury would never have a place in their lives.

The second I hung up with Vivian, my phone lit up.

It was an iMessage.

“Sloane, it’s Elodie. Nate gave me your number. He said I could chat with you when I had time, so you wouldn’t feel too lonely.”

I stared at the message for a few seconds.

No reply.

I kept packing.

Maeve let herself in with her spare key.

I was stuffing my Social Security card, birth certificate, car title, and prenatal reports into a folder.

She stopped in the doorway, first looking at the open boxes and clothes scattered across the living room, then at the papers in my hands.

“You’re packing?”

“Yeah.”

“Where to?”

“Vancouver.”

She walked in and sat on the edge of the couch, her eyes dropping to my slightly rounded belly.

“What about the baby?”

“I’m keeping the baby. Raising it myself.”

“Does Nate know?”

“He knows I’m ending the engagement. He doesn’t know I’m moving to Canada.”

“When are you telling him?”

“I’m not.”

Maeve opened her mouth, then closed it again.

After a few seconds, she asked something else.

“Why is his mother so determined to make you give up the baby?”

My hands paused.

Margaret Westbury’s exact words had been:

“Sloane, I consulted a spiritual advisor in Sedona. She said this child’s energy is completely incompatible with Nate’s. It will affect your marriage and Nate’s position in the family trust and on the board. This baby cannot stay.”

Maeve balled up the tissue in her hand after hearing it.

“She’s using that New Age nonsense as an excuse?”

“Yeah.”

“What did Nate say?”

“He said he would talk to Margaret. Then right in front of me, he called his assistant and booked two tickets to St. Barts. To take Elodie.”

“Who’s Elodie?”

“A family friend he’s known since childhood. She got back from London two months ago. He says she’s been in a bad headspace and wants to take her somewhere to unwind.”

Maeve looked at me for a long time, her eyes turning red.

“You’re doing the right thing.”

My phone buzzed again.

Elodie had switched tactics and left a voice note.

“Sloane, Nate mentioned your morning sickness has been really bad. I had my nutritionist put together a nausea care kit, ginger chews, soda crackers, electrolyte water, and some cold-pressed juices.”

“I already had the courier drop it at the concierge desk in your building lobby. Just have them bring it up.”

I showed Maeve the voice-note transcript.

She read it, then looked up.

“He told her about your morning sickness?”

“Looks like it.”

“And gave her your address?”

“Yeah.”

“And where is he?”

“Booking tickets to St. Barts.”

Maeve handed my phone back without another word.

After about half a minute of silence, she stood up and started folding the rest of the clothes from my closet, packing them neatly into the boxes.

“What do you need from me?”

“Help me ship that box of books to the Vancouver place.”

“Done.”

I flipped open the prenatal report.

Maeve leaned over.

“Twins?”

“Confirmed this morning.”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

“You’re really not telling him?”

“He couldn’t even stand up for one baby. Telling him there are two won’t change anything.”

Maeve didn’t push it.

She helped me finish packing, and before she left, she turned at the door and looked back.

“Take care of yourself. FaceTime me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Once the door closed, I sat alone on the couch, hand resting on my belly.

Nate came home at nine that night.

He took off his dark gray cashmere coat in the entryway, spotted the suitcase, paused for two seconds, then walked into the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“Away for a few days.”

He sat next to me and reached for my shoulder.

“Still mad? I said I would talk to Margaret.”

“Did you ask Elodie to send that care package?”

He paused.

“She said your morning sickness was bad and you might need real help. I just gave her the address.”

“You gave my address and my medical details to a woman I’ve never met?”

“She’s a friend I’ve known forever. Don’t make it sound uglier than it is.”

“I don’t need it.”

“You don’t get to decide my boundaries for me.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Fine. Next time I’ll ask first. Now unpack that suitcase.”

“Did you cancel the St. Barts trip?”

He was quiet for three seconds.

“Her ticket and hotel are already booked. Canceling now wouldn’t be right. She’s been really unstable lately.”

“Then go.”

I stood up to grab the suitcase. He stood too, blocking the door.

“Sloane Hart, do you even want to save this engagement?”

I looked up at him.

“Your mother wants me to give up your child and you think I’m overreacting. You gave my number, address, and health info to Elodie and call it kindness. Now you’re taking her to St. Barts and asking if I want to save us.”

I held his gaze.

“Nate, who exactly keeps crossing the line?”

He didn’t answer. His phone rang.

It was Elodie.

He glanced at the screen, then at me.

“She can’t sleep again. I’ll just take this.”

He answered and stepped out onto the balcony.

His voice drifted through the glass.

“What’s wrong? Still can’t sleep?”

I pulled the suitcase out the door.

I didn’t wait for him to finish the call.

In the elevator, I texted Vivian.

“I’m ready.”

She replied with two words.

“Good.”