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

Chapter 2

Three days later, a family banquet was held at the Cooper estate.

Violet sat to Oliver's right, a bowl of specially prepared consommé placed before her.

My seat was to Oliver's left, an empty bowl and utensils before me.

Grace spoke first, "We need to set the date soon."

She picked up a piece of fish and placed it in Violet's bowl, adding, "The baby's one‑month celebration is scheduled for two weeks after the wedding, so the timing is a bit tight. I reserved a spot at the postpartum care center under Layla's name to make signing convenient."

I looked at that piece of fish.

Violet turned to me with a smile and said, "Layla, the child's surname will be Cooper. You can choose the first name; I'm not particular."

She continued, "I have thought of a pet name, though. Lellie. Oliver likes it. It'll sound affectionate when we call him that."

Lellie. That was what Oliver had called me for seven years. Now, he had given it to an unborn child.

Oliver's hand, which had been picking up food, paused briefly. He nodded and said, "Good. It's cute."

His aunt raised her wine glass from across the table. "Drink this, and the three of you are one family. Layla, you're getting quite the bargain."

The relatives at the table chimed in agreement.

Grace took out a document from her bag and pushed it toward me—that Co‑Parenting Agreement. "I'll add your name to the property deed. Sign it, and we'll handle it tomorrow."

I replied, "I won't."

Oliver's aunt set down her wine glass, her face darkening. "How is it that after seven years, there's still no sign of a baby? If you can't conceive, you ought to know your place. Someone else is having a child for you, and you're still pulling a long face."

Oliver slammed his fork down on the table and said, "Mind your own business."

His aunt pursed her lips and said nothing more.

Oliver turned to look at me. "Layla isn't healthy enough yet. The doctor said she needs to wait. Violet is helping us."

In that clinic room two years ago, the doctor had said that due to long‑term high‑altitude oxygen deprivation combined with medication for old injuries, I needed to take a two‑year break. I hadn't told anyone. I only held his hand in the car on the way back and told him.

He had nodded and said, "Then wait. We're not in a hurry."

Now, he was using my only vulnerability as an excuse for his own absurd decision.

I looked into his eyes and said, "I was the one who told you what the doctor said."

Oliver frowned.

He pulled a photocopy of a physical examination report from his briefcase and placed it on the table. He said, "I've already made it clear to Mr. Barnes. Your leg can't handle 4,500 meters."

He looked at me as if he had my best interests at heart. "I'm not stopping you. I just don't want you to die on the mountains."

He pushed that red property deed toward me. "Sign it, and we'll all keep our dignity."

He lowered his voice and went on, "After the wedding, I'll get you a bigger study, and I'll buy you the best equipment."

Violet peeled a shrimp beside him and said, "Layla, don't you know Oliver's temperament? He comes around when you play nice, not when you play tough. If you soften up a little, everything will work out."

She placed the shrimp meat on Oliver's plate.

After the family banquet, Oliver had a few drinks.

He leaned against the doorframe and said, "You're the only one in the world who can put up with me."

He reached out to touch my hair, but I turned aside, avoiding his hand.

I pushed the property deed back toward him and said, "It's too much. I can't accept it."

That night, I went back to our apartment.

I dragged out that dusty box from under the bed and dug out a pair of mountaineering boots.

I sat on the floor with a shoe brush and scrubbed them for two hours.

My phone screen lit up.

Logan sent a message.

Logan: I've received the materials. I'll hold the spot for you until the 10th. Make sure you're the one who gets back to me.

Iris also sent a message.

Iris: I've looked over the agreement. It's a minefield. Don't sign. Also, the investor for the Stargazing Camp at Brindlewood is one of Oliver's companies.

I stared at that last line, my hand tightening around the phone.