My Lawyer Fiancé Left Me at the Altar for a Pregnant Fraud Chapter 03

My Lawyer Fiancé Left Me at the Altar for a Pregnant Fraud Chapter 03

Sage handled the discharge paperwork.

We were heading out when I saw them.

Caspian had his arm around Camila Quinn. They were standing outside The OB/GYN wing.

This was the scene I’d envisioned for years.

Caspian hovering over me, one hand on my swollen belly, that quiet smile he only ever showed at home.

There it was. Exactly as I’d pictured it.

Except I wasn’t the woman in the picture.

I kept walking.

Camila spotted me. Her face went white. She shrank behind Caspian like I was going to lunge at her.

He shielded her. His eyes flicked to me, impatient.

“I’m taking some time off. You’ve got the firm.”

For her. For a baby nobody could even confirm was his.

Caspian Lowell. The man who hadn’t missed a deposition in twelve years. Taking a leave.

I had no fight left in me.

Not here. Not in front of her.

I walked.

The Finch-Lowell residence was silent.

Everything sat exactly where I’d left it the morning of the reception. The matching UGG slippers by the door.

His pair remained untouched.

He hadn’t been back.

I stood in the doorway and let the silence crush me.

The lilies on the dining table. We’d bought those together three days ago at the farmer’s market.

The canvas hanging above the couch. We’d painted it on our eighth anniversary at a Wine & Paint night downtown.

Even those damn slippers—he’d picked mine, I’d picked his.

My throat tightened.

Maybe I could forgive him.

It wasn’t intentional. He was drunk. Maybe someone set him up.

Three neat excuses. I tried them all on.

None of them fit.

My father got drunk too.

His secretary. One drunken night. A blackout mistake he swore he’d never repeat.

He got down on his knees and begged my mother. She cried for three days straight. Then she chose forgiveness.

And he did it again.

I was twelve.

I remember the sky that day. Low clouds. Thunder cracking overhead.

My father struck my mother across the face with a crystal decanter. Blood everywhere.

His voice was flat. Annoyed.

“You already forgave me once. What’s the difference? What are you so upset about?”

My mother looked at him. Really looked at him.

“Just one more time?” she murmured.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t argue.

She walked to the balcony and stepped off.

I watched her go.

I watched my father’s face. No remorse. No horror. Nothing.

That day I made a promise.

I would never forgive a man who cheated.

Didn’t matter if he was drunk. Didn’t matter if he was set up. Didn’t matter if he swore it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Now here I was.

Same choice. Same impossible weight.

I finally understood why my mother stood on that balcony so long.

Leaving someone you’ve loved for eight years isn’t a decision.

It’s an amputation.