288 Vouchers
Chapter 1
Marcus Hamilton, the scion of New York’s elite circle, forced me to have four abortions just because his beloved first love shed a tear.
His mother went about telling everyone I was a class below them and made me a joke in their circle.
“Marcus, do you really want to spend your whole life with her?”
He chuckled and replied coldly, “I’m not done having fun with her yet.”
Little did he know, he would be destroyed in the end.
***
“Why does she get to have your child? Marcus, I hate it! Please kill it!” The woman’s delicate face was streaked with tears as she pointed at the small swell of my belly.
My husband held her tightly and comforted her, “Okay, Nina. I’ll do whatever you say. Please stop crying–it’s ruin- ing your makeup.”
Then, he stared at me with disdain and sneered. “Emily, I can’t believe you stooped so low, using every trick to keep getting pregnant. It seems like it’s time you learned your lesson.”
After we got married, Marcus refused to use protection. So I had no choice but to take medicines, but it didn’t stop it from happening.
By the time I woke up from the nightmare, my third abortion surgery was already over.
On our wedding night, he left me mid–act because of a text.
In the first year of our marriage, I lost the chance to become a mother twice, and it was all because of Nina Williamson!
Today was no exception. When I awoke, I overheard the doctor updating Marcus about my third miscarriage.
I forced a bitter smile. I should’ve been used to the pain by now, but it still hurt.
When I returned home and saw the printed divorce papers I’d left on the table, I finally felt a sliver of peace.
If I didn’t leave this house soon, I would undoubtedly die.
That night, Marcus came home drunk from another party. The scent of some unfamiliar woman’s perfume clung to his
shirt.
Just then, I received a text from Nina. “Thank you for taking care of Marcus tonight. He didn’t want to tire me out, so he came home to you.”
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Chapter 1
288 iVouchers
A cold smile crept on my face. I disregarded it.
The next morning, while I was in the kitchen making hangover soup, another message from Nina came in. “I almost forgot you had another abortion yesterday. How’d that feel? Good, right?”
I stared at the screen for a long time. The hangover soup began to burn, and an unpleasant scent permeated the air.
Suddenly, a set of arms wrapped around me from behind. Marcus’s chin rested on the curve of my shoulder as he mut- tered, “You’ve been through a lot, Emily.”
He was always like this. Every time he crossed the line, he’d double down on the sweetness–just enough to make me think maybe he really loved me. Just like now, gently combing through my hair with his slender fingers.
Yet these same pair of hands did nothing a week ago when Nina spilled red wine all over my dress at the party.
As she pretended to cry, Marcus dismissed me with an impatient wave, criticizing, “Emily, you’re obviously not cut out for these kinds of events. Every time you come, you end up embarrassing me.”
a
He kept humiliating me for her–again and again. At this point, I was nothing more than a joke.
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