My Husband's First Love

Chapter 4

I spent the entire night in anguish, crying until I was nearly lightheaded.

Even when I confirmed Andrew didn't love me, I wasn't even this miserable.

In my dazed state, I dreamed of when my mother passed away.

Back then, I'd gotten pregnant with Ryan at the worst possible time. If I hadn't been pregnant, I could have held the Wright Family together.

But by then, my father had already jumped to his death, unable to bear the blow. My mother lay dying in her hospital bed.

The Wright Family's empire was crumbling, and Andrew, caught in his family's internal power struggles, couldn't extricate himself either.

I couldn't bear to see my parents' lifelong efforts go to waste. I wanted to abort Ryan.

It was my mother and Andrew who took turns persuading me.

Andrew's argument was simple: the most important thing for a couple is to carry on the family line. Besides, the doctor said that if I terminated now, it would be difficult to conceive again later. Andrew said it would go against both our families' wishes.

My mother, weak and fading, grasped my hand and said that she was leaving me, too, but this child would be the last person in this world to love me forever.

She couldn't bear to see me alone, nor watch me become vulnerable and abandoned.

She made me swear.

Therefore, I decided to keep Ryan.

The pregnancy brought severe complications. Once, just from twisting my ankle and falling, the weight of my belly broke three of my ribs.

I told myself I must love this child, who came at the cost of sacrificing the Wright Family.

Suddenly, a ringtone shattered the silence.

I jolted awake from my nightmare to see an unknown number calling.

"Hello?"

"Jules, it's me." That familiar, smooth male voice came through.

I realized. Last night, I'd blocked Andrew in frustration. Now he was calling from someone else's phone.

My voice turned glacial. "What is it?"

A beat of silence before he cleared his throat. "I can't find my navy blue striped tie."

I massaged my throbbing temples, aching from lack of sleep.

"Third compartment on the right, at the back of the wardrobe. I'm in the office." His voice dropped. "Could you bring it? There's an important meeting today. Don't cause trouble. Twenty minutes. Be a dear, alright?"

Before I could answer, he hung up.

I looked at the freshly printed divorce papers beside me, got up, changed clothes, and headed out.

At the Scott Group's building, the receptionist recognized me immediately.

Smiling brightly, she escorted me up, perhaps eager to impress me as Mrs. Scott, and said warmly, "Mr. Scott is usually free now and doesn't take outside meetings. This is the best time to drop in."

Just as we reached the door, a light, tinkling laugh floated out from the room.

The receptionist's smile froze, her eyes filled with awkwardness.

The door wasn't fully closed, and through the gap, I saw a stunning woman standing before Andrew, her long hair flowing like a waterfall, her figure striking even from behind.

Andrew stood a head taller than her. His handsome, usually cold face wore an expression I'd never seen before—gentle, tender.

He told her to stop, but his voice was warm with affection as he held her hand against his chest.

"Mr. Scott—" The receptionist started to call out to him.

But I was faster. I pushed the door open and walked straight in.