He Used Me to Bear His Child,Then Regretted Everything When I Died

Chapter 2

On the day I was discharged, the car pulled up in front of a small lakeside house on the south side of the city.

The moment I got out, I froze. This was the exact kind of home I'd once casually described to Oliver.

"Someday when I have my own place, I want it to be small. Not a big yard, just a couple of maple trees. And a desk by the window would be nice."

Oliver had kissed my forehead back then and said, "Alright. I'll get you one."

I'd thought it was just sweet talk. Now it was real, and it felt like a slap in the face.

Oliver placed the key in my palm. "The house is in your name. Bought it last year."

I didn't take it. The key clattered to the ground.

He picked me up and carried me inside. I struggled. "I can walk on my own."

"The doctor said to take it easy."

"Oliver, I said I can walk on my own!"

I glared at him, and he actually cracked a smile. "There you go. You were so quiet the whole ride, I was getting worried."

I didn't know what to say to that. For three years, this was how he'd been.

No matter how mad I got, he always found a way to handle it.

When my stomach hurt, he'd stay up all night. When my hands and feet got cold in winter, he'd warm up the bed before I got in. When I was in a bad mood during that time of the month and smashed his favorite mug, his first reaction wasn't to check the mug, it was to crouch down and make sure I hadn't cut my feet.

It was all those little things, one after another, that had fooled me completely.

At the far end of the second floor was the nursery. Grace was sitting by the crib, holding out a document.

"Take a look at this."

I glanced at it. It was about custody arrangements after the baby was born. It said, clear as day, that the child would be raised by Oliver and Grace together, and that I, the biological mother, would voluntarily step out of the child's life.

I tore the paper in half. "Have you both lost your minds?"

Grace's smile finally faded.

"Emma, you don't actually think this baby's gonna call you Mom, do you?"

I raised my hand to hit her, but my wrist was caught in midair. My eyes welled up instantly.

He looked at Grace. "Her heart's not in great shape. Hit me if you wanna hit someone, don't touch her. Come on, take as many swings as you want."

He actually leaned his face toward me. I looked at the face I'd loved for three years and all I felt was disgust. "Oliver, who do you really love?"

He didn't answer. Grace watched him too. After a long pause, he let go of my wrist. "Grace is my wife. You're the one I love."

My chest tightened, and I slapped him across the face. "Disgusting!"

He turned his head back, running his tongue over his cheek where I'd hit him. "Yeah, it is. But I can't change it."

That night, he made me pasta himself, sat by the bed, and spoon-fed me bite by bite. I kept my face cold. Finally, he set the plate down and tucked the blanket around me.

"Water's by the bed. Take the yellow pill after meals, the white one before bed. If your stomach hurts in the middle of the night, call me. I'll be in the next room."

His phone rang before he'd even finished. It was Grace.

I don't know what she said on the other end, but his face changed. "Chest pain? Where's your meds? Don't move. I'm coming over."

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "I gotta run to the hospital. Get some sleep."

After the door clicked shut, I finally buried my face in the pillow and let it all out.

At one in the morning, Grace sent me a recording.

She asked, "When the baby's born, are you gonna let her go?"

A long silence, then Oliver's voice. "I'm not divorcing you."

Grace again. "Then what about her?"

"I'm not letting her go either. Grace, we're married. My whole life belongs to you. But Emma, I want her too."

The recording cut off right there. I stared at the dark screen.

For the first time, I realized how deeply a man could pretend to love, when all he really had was greed.