He Said I Love Him Enough to Let Him Marry Her and Kill Our Child Chapter 02

He Said I Love Him Enough to Let Him Marry Her and Kill Our Child Chapter 02

Bianca was going to spread that video everywhere.

Panic surged through me. I forced myself up, lunging for Tristan’s phone.

He just stepped backward, grinning, dodging me like it was a game, like I was a monkey on a leash. And he kept filming.

Grief and fury choked me. “Tristan, we’ve loved each other for years. How can you be this cruel?”

His gaze was ice. “Do you have any idea what I went through for you? I begged Bianca for months just to let me keep you on the side. I didn’t dump you. Most guys would’ve. And you can’t even say thank you?”

A raw, broken sound tore from my throat as the world spun and I collapsed into the blood.

Bianca laughed softly over the phone. “Tristan, I’ve been thinking. Elena’s like some stray you picked up. I mean, you don’t get jealous over a dog, right?”

Tristan turned to me instantly. “You hear how generous she is? Thank her.”

I couldn’t form a single word. Tristan grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

I’d just miscarried. Every inch of me felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand needles. His shaking felt like my bones were snapping.

Under that brutal, crashing wave of pain, I ground two words through my teeth. “Thank you.”

That was what he wanted. He let go, leaving me in the spreading pool of blood, and walked out.

I lay on the cold floor, tears falling without end, and without sound.

I’d always known I was adopted. Knew it from the beginning. My foster parents treated me like garbage, beatings over nothing, never enough food. It was Tristan who noticed. He started bringing extra food to school, sharing it with me.

A few cruel kids caught on and circled me, chanting “free lunch, free lunch” until Tristan fought them off.

Once, I dropped a plate while washing dishes at home. My foster parents tied me up and beat me, screaming that I was a bastard, a worthless piece of trash.

When I didn’t show up at school for three days, Tristan tracked down my address. This scrawny kid, trying to save me, throwing himself at two full-grown adults. They bloodied his nose, blackened his eye, and he wouldn’t back down. A neighbor finally called the cops.

I still thought about those moments.

What I felt for Tristan wasn’t just love. It was gratitude.

So I gave him everything I had. I poured myself out for him. I believed what we had was unbreakable.

I was wrong. Tristan’s heart had moved on.

The blood kept coming. The weakness spread through my limbs until I could barely lift a finger. For a few long seconds, I thought about letting go. Just letting it end.

But then I saw my parents’ faces. They’d torn the world apart to find me. We’d just found each other.

I refused to die like this. I’d live for them.

I reached for my phone to call 911. My arm barely moved. My fingertips brushed the edge of the phone when I heard footsteps. Someone walked over and took it from my reach.

I tried to see who it was, but my vision went black.