Chapter 2

I was completely out of control, lunging at him like an enraged beast.

Mark was terrified out of his mind.

He didn't even bother trying to explain anymore. Turning on his heel, he sprinted into the stairwell and bolted down the stairs.

"Run while you can, you coward!"

"You can run, but your office isn't going anywhere! I'm coming for you!"

I stopped at the entrance of the stairwell, panting with rage, and spat out the threats before storming back to the operating room doors.

The emergency surgery was still underway.

I chained through two cigarettes by the window before the pounding in my chest began to slow down.

Yet my gut only twisted further.

The thought of my sweet, gentle wife doing something so filthy behind my back made me violently sick to my stomach.

It felt like swallowing a mouthful of poison.

And yet, despite the disgust, a sickening wave of worry washed over me.

No matter how awful she was, she was still carrying my baby.

Wait—the baby!

The horrifying realization finally slammed into me.

Chloe was barely three months along.

With a ruptured cyst and massive blood loss, what happened to the pregnancy?

What if the baby didn't make it…

A cold chill ran down my spine, dropping me into absolute dread. My heart leaped into my throat.

For the next half hour, I couldn't sit still for a single second.

I paced the sterile corridor outside the OR like a caged animal.

The second the red surgical light flicked off, I practically launched myself at the doors.

A nurse pushed the double doors open and gently moved me aside.

Right behind her, a gurney was wheeled out. Chloe lay on it, her face as pale as a sheet, eyes shut, completely unconscious.

"Doctor! How is my wife?"

The lead surgeon was an experienced woman in her fifties.

I grabbed her arm in desperation, asking frantically, "What about the baby? Is our baby okay?"

"What were you expecting? Do you have any idea how dangerous a ruptured corpus luteum with massive internal bleeding is? We barely saved her life."

The doctor looked at me, her gaze softening slightly as she took in my shattered expression.

She pulled her arm free and let out a heavy sigh:

"Don't beat yourself up too much. You two can still have children in the future. Be thankful she survived."

"It's fortunate she was brought in so quickly. She's stabilized now."

"However, she lost a tremendous amount of blood and her body is extremely weak. I gave her a mild sedative so she can rest."

"Listen to me: when she wakes up, do not agitate her. Be supportive, speak gently, and keep her calm."

With that, the doctor shook her head and walked off down the hall.

The nurse wheeled the gurney away toward the recovery room.

I stood frozen on the cold hospital tiles, my face drained of all color, ears ringing in deafening silence.

Gone?

My baby was gone?

That child had only been growing inside her for three months.

We didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl yet. And now, they would never get the chance to see this world.

The blow struck me with devastating weight.

And when I remembered that this tragedy happened simply because my wife wanted a cheap thrill in the middle of the night, a volcanic wave of fury erupted in my chest.

That shameless, deceitful woman had murdered our child with her own hands. I would never forgive her.

And that bastard Mark.

He knew she was pregnant, yet he couldn't keep his hands to himself? He sneaked into my home for a midnight thrill?

He had been so rough that he literally killed my child.

This was unforgivable.

I swore to God, I wasn't going to let him get away with this…