I sat alone on the balcony, caressing my belly, which twisted violently, and dialed the doctor.
"Doctor, I want to schedule an abortion."
The next morning,
Sharp pain woke me. I struggled to find Ethan.
He sat on the sofa, legs crossed.
The phone pinged, and he smiled brightly.
I called several times before he looked up. Seeing my pale face, he froze, then hurriedly helped me sit, his fingers lightly massaging my shoulders.
"Honey, I can’t be with you today. President Morgan is waiting to discuss the cruise ship acquisition. We need new travel routes."
His tone was calm, as if yesterday had never happened.
He always did this—let me stew in my emotions all night while he carried on.
It was as if he could simply leave me behind, ignoring the problem.
Pain surged, and I instinctively grabbed his hand, but his other hand stayed on the keyboard, utterly focused, ignoring me.
From outside the villa, Tara’s cheeky voice rang:
"Ethan, your father’s here. What are you waiting for?"
Ethan instantly released me, dropped his phone, and sprinted to the door.
I fell, knocking on his phone with my elbow.
On the screen, a group chat called “Princess Tara and Her Knights” was pinned. I clicked it, frozen.