I Was Pregnant, He Chased Another Woman

Claire Jones stared at the pregnancy test report, dazed. She was pregnant. How could she get pregnant at this time? She had just been promoted to project manager. Two tiny voices warred inside her head. One championed her career and future. The other fought for Steven Lawson, her husband of seven years, and the family they had built. "Was I too rough last night?" That familiar voice drifted from not far away. She dazedly turned toward the sound and looked—it was Steven. Beneath the stark white fluorescent lamp, Steven stood tall and straight, his arm linked with a strange woman. In an instant, all the blood in her body ran cold, and her entire body felt frozen. "No, it's not your fault." The woman's voice was soft as cotton, light as air, her cheeks lightly flushed, and the dimples on her cheeks were blindingly jarring. "But maybe be a little gentler next time, okay? It really hurt." Crunch, crunch— Claire crumpled the pregnancy test report into creases. Last night, Steven had told her he was swamped with work and would stay overnight at the law firm. The world fell silent and drained of color at that instant. Steven's eyes were lowered, and the gentleness spilling from his gaze was just like the breeze of ten years ago. Back in college, the cherry blossoms bloomed in a riot of pink. Steven had embraced her firmly, his voice clear and bright. "Claire, once we're settled, we'll get married. We'll make lots of money. We'll have a baby, get a dog and a cat—a family of five, for a lifetime." Pink petals fluttered down one by one, blurring her vision. Rage surged to the top of Claire's head. She wanted to rush over and slap him, to scream her accusations out loud. But her feet felt like they were filled with lead. She could barely move even one step forward. Claire shut her eyes in agony. Two lines of tears slid from the corners of her eyes. When she opened them again, a watery mist remained, but her gaze had cleared into sharp resolve. She drew a sharp, cold breath, turned, and walked toward the gynecology registration desk. "Are you sure you want to terminate the pregnancy?" the doctor asked in a calm, serious tone. "Yes," Claire replied quietly, without the slightest hesitation. Signing the consent form, pre-operative checks, scheduling the surgery—she moved through the entire process briskly, as if she were just handling an ordinary work document. When she walked out of the consulting room, sunlight streamed through the hospital's glass windows and fell bright and glaring on her face. Claire squinted slightly, picked up her phone, and dialed her assistant's number. "Lucy, please reschedule my calendar for the next three days," her voice was extraordinarily steady, "and also contact a reliable private investigator with experience in marital dispute cases immediately. I want you to investigate all women who have been close to Steven over the past six months, and I need a preliminary result by the end of today." In the afternoon, the operating room lights glowed a harsh, blinding white. The moment the anesthetic entered her vein, the sharp stabbing pain made her furrow her brow slightly. Her vision began to blur. On the edge of losing consciousness, fragments of memory surged up uncontrollably. Six months earlier, Steven stood before everyone in a perfectly tailored suit, his eyes reddened, and slid the ring onto her ring finger. His voice trembled with excitement. "Claire, we can finally be together forever." The light in his eyes had been so bright it burned. Cold instruments slid into her body, bringing a dull, hollow ache. Claire's eyelashes trembled. A single tear slipped soundlessly into the hair at her temple. So this was how short the "forever" he spoke of actually was. So short that it did not even leave time for this child to see the home its parents once dreamed of and planned to build. That night, Claire lay in bed. The dull ache from the procedure grew more distinct in the silence. A new message popped up on her phone screen. Steven: Claire, I have to pull an all-nighter on a case tonight. I'll sleep at the firm, don't wait for me. Almost at the same time, the notification chime for her email rang out. It was a message from the private investigator. Claire opened it, and countless photos filled her screen—They had behaved intimately at the law firm; They had come and gone together at a luxury apartment; They were at the hospital for that woman's vaginal tear check-up… Claire scrolled down calmly. The private investigator: Freya Paxton, 23 years old, a nightclub escort. She was sued by a wife for property restitution three months ago, after she intervened in another person's marriage and accepted large sums of money. Steven took on this case as her attorney, and during the representation, he privately paid off 1.2 million in debt on her behalf. After the case concluded, he began paying her a hefty monthly living allowance out of his personal funds and leased a high-end apartment for her. Clare's heart turned icy, inch by inch, then grew hard. The lifetime together Steven had sworn to her only lasted three months after their wedding. Keeping a mistress on the side, and using her money to pay off the debts of a serial homewrecker—how ironic. The cold glow of the screen reflected in Claire's glistening eyes. She raised her hand, wiped away her tears, and called her lawyer. "Mr. Scott, I'm sorry to bother you so late. I need you to handle two things for me. First, sue Freya on the grounds of unjust enrichment. For every cent Steven transferred to her, I want it all back, with interest. Second, draft a divorce agreement for me. The house and the car go to me. Of the remaining joint marital property, I want seventy percent. I will send you the relevant evidence as soon as I have compiled it. Please prioritize this case. Thank you for your trouble."