He Married Me but Loved Her

Chapter 2

Damian's eyes met mine, the tenderness in them icing over in an instant, replaced by something venomous and cold.

"Victoria," he spat, "if you possessed even an ounce of Eva's goodness, I wouldn't be forced to do this. I'll have another divorce papers drawn up. After ten years, I won't cheat you out of a single cent, but lay one finger on Eva again, and you'll live to regret it. You heard her. Eva's carrying my child—my firstborn. And I'll make damn sure the whole world acknowledges him as my heir."

The liquor burned like liquid nitrogen, yet it was nothing compared to the glacial void spreading through my chest.

I lifted my chin, swallowing back the tears threatening to fall, and laughed. A sharp, broken sound, "Your first child? Then what was our daughter, Damian?"

He froze. Just for a second.

Four years ago, we'd had a child together.

Liora, an angel of a baby who never gave me morning sickness, who kicked gently during ultrasounds like she was waving hello. The doctors had marveled at how perfect she was.

I'd prepared everything: a pastel-pink nursery, tiny socks stacked neat, plush toys waiting for tiny hands to hold them.

Then, in my eighth month, Damian was taken hostage aboard a luxury yacht.

Armed with nothing but two guns and desperation, I bargained my way onboard.

When the shooting started, I threw myself in front of him and took the bullet meant for his heart straight through my womb.

Only later did I learn he'd set the whole rescue up... and never bothered to tell me.

Our daughter was gone. The doctors saved my uterus, but the chances of another pregnancy? Less than one percent.

I shattered. I raged. I stabbed him with a fruit knife in my grief, and he didn't even flinch, just knelt there, letting the blade sink in as he crushed me against him. "Victoria," he'd sworn, voice raw, "We'll try again. When you're stronger, Liora will come back to us."

Three years vanished in a blink.

Just three years. And he forgot. Erased the daughter we'd loved from his memory.

Erased the reckless boy who'd nearly died in an underground fight club to buy me a piano.

Erased that stormy night seven years past, when he'd carried my broken body for miles, his feet shredded to ribbons as he ran through the wilderness to save me.

Erased his own tear-choked vow to the heavens. "Victoria, I'll climb so high no one will ever dare hurt you again."

Seven years. That's all it took.

The boy who'd fretted over a scratch on my finger now twisted the knife himself.

I wanted to shriek at the ghost of the boy he'd been. Look what you've done! The girl you swore to protect, you broke her yourself for another woman. Would his heart break? Would he rage in disbelief if he saw what he'd become?

...

"I'll make up for the past." His voice was ice, slicing through my thoughts. "Don't bring it up again."

When I looked up, all I saw was Damian's retreating back as he carried Eva away that once beloved silhouette, now just a ghost of what we'd lost. My body ached to run after him, but the truth was clear and some things can't be fixed.

Why should I be the one to surrender? His empire was built on my daughter's death and my broken heart. Did he really think I'd just roll over and let him win?

As Damian disappeared, his thugs followed, leaving me collapsed on the floor. The liquor drenched me, my skin burning with angry red welts. I gasped for air, choking on nothing.

But I couldn't die here. The jasmine I'd planted for Loria, her flowers, still needed me. With trembling arms, I pushed myself up and into my wheelchair. My vision swam as I fumbled with the phone, punching in the hospital's number.

No one would take me. A kind doctor murmured the truth. Damian had ordered this punishment because Eva claimed my drink had chilled her precious baby.

In the end, Martha, our housekeeper, dragged me home. I choked down pills and fought through a week of feverish shakes, my skin on fire.