Jackson is one of the best doctors I know. He's the son of the owner of the biggest hospital in the city. I can't help but feel honored to be one of his friends. And now he runs the hospital as the CEO.
I didn't say a word; I was so devastated that I didn't know how this happened. The hollowness inside me mirrored the emptiness beside me on the examination table. I stare at the miscarriage report; I can't help but shed tears.
"Do you want me to call Lucas?" Jackson asks gently.
"No. He's busy…." I said with a bitter smile, then stood up even though my whole body still felt so painful to walk.
I held the miscarriage report, and Jackson offered me a ride. The ride home was shrouded in a heavy silence. When we finally arrived, I stepped out and said, "Thanks, Jack."
He smiled apologetically.
I walked with a heavy heart and still had no idea how I could tell this devastating news to Lucas.
Grief, raw and unbearable pain ripped through me. I opened the door to my penthouse, then slumped on the floor, feeling hopeless and empty. Tears streamed down my face as I reached for my phone with my trembling fingers. I glanced at the screen, and it was 2:00 am. Hours that bled by without a blink of sleep.
Then, I received a notification. I swiped it open, and my heart sank as I saw Lucas with another woman beaming perfectly in the photo. May, his childhood sweetheart.
He swore May was just a friend, but now they have a photo together with a baby next to them—they look like a picture family perfect while I'm here, miserable.
I just lost my baby!
"This wasn't a board meeting," I said snidely. "This was him—lying. He had lied to me many times. He was a f*cking liar."
And I just realized... I'm tired of loving my bastard husband.
Claire’s POV
ONE DAY LATER.
I went to the hospital early for work; the sterile white walls offered a peaceful ambiance early that morning. My jerk husband hasn’t called me yet, but I don’t care anymore.
I sat in my swivel chair while staring at the blank screen of my computer until my phone buzzed, and I raised my eyebrow as I read the caller’s ID—LUCAS.
I picked up the phone and answered his call with a blunt voice, “Yes?”
“I saw…”
“You saw what?” I asked as if his reaction didn’t matter to me anymore.
“I read the miscarriage report on the table. Why didn't you tell me about it?!” he asked angrily, his voice filled with frustration.