“I swear, Lori, if anything happens to her, I’ll make you pay for it!”
At that moment, it felt like the sky had collapsed. My chest tightened and I nearly blacked out from the rage and betrayal.
I didn’t confront Tom. Instead, I returned to the hospital bed and cried silently. I cried for the baby I couldn’t protect. I cried for all the sacrifices I’d made, sacrifices that now felt meaningless. Tom had betrayed me.
I finally understood what people meant when they said, “When men get rich, they turn bad.”
The Tom I once knew—the man I fell in love with—was gone.
After our wedding, he often stayed out late, claiming he was busy with work. At first, I believed him. I even worried he was overworking himself and reminded him to take care of his health.
It wasn’t until Lori began sending me taunting messages every few days that I realized he was cheating. That was when I first thought about leaving him. But I didn’t. I clung to the love we had shared and the hope of a future with the child I was carrying. So I endured, waiting for the right moment to confront him—after the baby was born.