She Borrowed My Fiancé’s Sperm，So I Called Off the Wedding

Chapter 4

11 days after being discharged from the hospital, Oliver said he had prepared a surprise for me.

My right leg was still in a cast, so I was stuck in a wheelchair.

He had a driver take me to the company anniversary gala, and even had someone drape my favorite dark‑blue dress over the armrest of my wheelchair.

"Put it on," he murmured. "You'll be happy today."

The venue was at the largest hotel in the city center.

The lights dimmed, and a deep blue star map appeared on the large screen.

Thunderous applause erupted throughout the hall.

A line of text appeared in the very center of the screen: The naming proposal for minor planet designation 2018‑QL7 has entered the public notice period. Proposed name Lellie.

My breath caught in my throat.

This proposal document had originally been locked in my study drawer.

Oliver walked on stage holding Violet's hand. The spotlight shone down on them. "This is a gift for my daughter's birth."

Everyone in the audience was marveling at this display of romance.

I sat in the front row, my fingertips slowly turning cold.

I maneuvered my wheelchair closer to the stage, looking at Oliver. "Where did you get the documents?"

Oliver handed the microphone to the host and walked off the stage. "You left that thing untouched for seven years. I thought you were saving it for our family."

He looked at me as if it were only natural and added, "Isn't it still for our family now?"

Violet walked over, holding up her skirt. She said, "I was the one who reminded Oliver. Layla, you locked it away without using it. What a waste."

She covered her mouth and laughed, then continued, "That night, Oliver drank himself into a blackout because you turned off your phone up in the mountains and he spent his birthday alone. If you had been there, none of this would have happened."

I looked at Oliver and said, "That star, 2018, 1 year and 47 nights."

That year, Oliver's company was nearly liquidated. He slept in the office, while I alone kept vigil at Brindlewood for 1 year and 47 nights.

I finished calculating the orbit, completed the follow‑up observations, and obtained the qualification to submit the naming proposal.

When the confirmation came, I wrote O.C. on the scratch paper.

Then I crossed it out.

I wanted to give it to him on our wedding day.

Grace interjected from the side. "What an honor! Even a star is using my granddaughter's name. You get to bask in the glory too."

I looked at Oliver, my voice soft. "Give it back."

Oliver's face darkened. He said, "That leg of yours. I've been paying for it for seven years."

He lowered his voice and continued, "Surgery, rehabilitation, this apartment, the connections that got you your current job. Add it up yourself. Have I ever wronged you these seven years?"

I stared at him blankly.

My phone buzzed.

Iris sent a message.

Iris: I looked into it. The naming proposal is still in the public notice period. There are issues with the authorization materials. We can file an objection to have it withdrawn. Just say the word, and I'll file it for you right away.

I looked down and typed back.

Layla: Do it.

I maneuvered my wheelchair to leave.

He frowned and asked, "How long are you going to keep this up?"

I looked at him and said, "Since you've tallied it all up, this ends here."

Oliver reached out and grabbed the wheelchair armrest. "Stop it. The photographer is coming tomorrow for a reshoot. If you can't do your makeup yourself, I'll get someone for you."

I slowly pried his fingers away and said, "Oliver, the engagement is off."

Oliver frowned and said, "Quit making a scene."

I said nothing, turned my wheelchair around, and left.

"Layla!" Oliver tried to say something more, but Violet grabbed his arm and said, "Oliver, Layla is just angry right now. Let her cool off alone."

At four in the morning, I returned to my apartment.

A hardcover journal sat on the study desk, seven years of observation records, with a photographic negative of a star chart tucked into the last page.

I sent out the notice calling off the engagement, the formal objection to the naming, and the letter revoking the Stargazing Camp's technology authorization.

When the success message popped up, Oliver was still at the anniversary venue, raising a glass to celebrate the star he had given his daughter.

I called a moving truck.