Chapter 1
My water broke. I was writhing on the floor in agony, but my husband physically blocked the ambulance door, refusing to let me on.
He said, "Just hold on a little longer. Emily's pregnancy is unstable. She's in more danger than you are."
The "Emily" he was talking about was his female assistant, who had gotten pregnant two months ago.
I watched the ambulance speed away with him and his precious Emily, and right then, something inside me died.
Later, he sent me a text saying Emily and her baby were safe. Only then did he finally, belatedly, come home.
When he saw my flat stomach and the empty bed, he completely lost his mind.
*****
The sharp pain in my belly churned like a blunt blade, twisting inside me over and over.
I curled up on the icy floor, my sweat-soaked bangs clinging to my skin.
Beneath me, the "amniotic fluid" kept spreading, soaking through my pajama pants and sending a chill through my body.
The living room window was left ajar, and the night breeze swept in, billowing the curtains and robbing me of the last traces of warmth.
I listened as the ambulance siren faded into the distance, eventually lost in the city's chaos, which stole away my last bit of hope.
It also erased whatever was left between Jason and me.
Just moments ago, Jason Carter, my husband, used those hands I once thought were the warmest in the world to cling desperately to the ambulance door.
His face was filled with panic and fear I'd never seen before.
But none of it was for me.
He watched Emily, whom he had always claimed was delicate and required protection, being helped by another man.
He said, "Just hold on a little longer. Emily's pregnancy is unstable. She's in more danger than you are."
Those words kept ringing in my ears like a curse, again and again.
I'd been pregnant with our baby for over nine months; My water broke while I was lying on the floor now.
Emily Young, his assistant, who was only two months pregnant, had a little spotting.
To Jason, his wife, who was about to give birth, still mattered less than the baby his assistant was carrying.
How pathetic it was.
But I couldn't even force a smile. It took too much effort to twitch the corners of my mouth.
The pain was real, and so was my heartbreak.
This carefully planned "fake pregnancy" had finally reached its most brutal and honest conclusion.
A year ago, I lost my baby to a miscarriage.
The little one, barely even formed, quietly slipped away from me, as if it never even existed.
I was all alone on that freezing hospital table, signing the consent form with nobody by my side.
Back then, Jason was off in another city, sticking close to Emily for some so-called urgent project.
I called him, my voice trembling so much I could barely get the words out.
He snapped, "Laura, can't you grow up a little? I'm really busy here. Can't you handle this little thing on your own?"
It was a trivial thing to him.
Our first child was gone, and to him, it was a small thing that didn't matter at all.
By the time he finally dragged himself home from his so-called busy business trip, his mother, Monica Carter, had already been berating me to my face for days.
She said, "I'm so disappointed in you.
"You can't even carry a baby to term. What's the point of marrying you into the Carter family?"
Those nasty words felt like poison daggers in my chest.
And Jason, the man I once believed would shield me from anything, just stood off to the side and said, barely caring, "Mom, that's enough."
There was no comfort, no guilt, not even a trace of concern.
From that moment on, I realized this family and this man weren't worth any more of my effort.
Despair wrapped around me like vines, squeezing so tight I could barely breathe.
That was when a crazy idea started to take root in my mind.
I was going to use a "baby" as my one last bet on our marriage.
I wanted to see if Jason still cared about me, or about our child at all.
I bought silicone pregnancy bellies online to fake a pregnancy. They looked so real that they could fool anyone.
Each month I carefully swapped it for a larger one to keep the illusion convincing.
I studied every pregnancy symptom and faked prenatal check-up reports one after another.
Jason never questioned my growing belly, not even once. Maybe he never cared enough to notice.
He only pretended to care about me when Monica nagged him.
My best friend, Susan Bright, called me crazy and tried to talk me out of it more than once.
She said, "Laura, don't ruin yourself over a jerk like him.
"Divorce him and make sure he walks away with nothing. That's the only way."
But I wasn't ready to give up.
I couldn't stand the thought of all those years, all my effort, going down the drain.
I wanted him to crush every last dream I had with his own hands. I wanted him to lose so badly he'd have to admit defeat.
It was the ultimate test I'd planned.
I waited until Jason was almost out of work, then pretended to fall in the living room and burst the water bag I'd hidden under my clothes.
I even called the ambulance myself.
I lay there on the floor, enduring discomfort, waiting for the one who would judge me.
Jason came home.
His arrival, his blocking me and whispering, "hold on a little longer," sealed my fate.
A chill from the floor crept up my spine and settled deep in my heart.
I closed my eyes, and everything that happened flashed before me like a movie reel.
All those sweet moments felt like one big, cruel joke.
That was good. With my illusions shattered, it was finally time to face reality.
Slowly, I forced myself to sit up from the icy floor.