Page 1
Story: The Last Move Is Mine
My heart sank when the private detective sent me photos of Wesley Ross casually resting his arm on Charlotte Wilson’s shoulder. He smiled in the photograph.
Charlotte, my trusted right-hand woman, had been reassigned as Wesley’s secretary soon after he joined my company. Before seeing those photos, I clung to a sliver of hope, desperately hoping that my suspicions were incorrect.
Then my phone vibrated with another notification: a second blow from the private detective. My hands trembled while I read the message.
Charlotte was pregnant.
How could she be knocked up?
My emotions boiled over as memories of my past with Wesley flooded back. Two years into our relationship, I became pregnant with his child.
However, instead of joy, Wesley was upset. He claimed that having a baby would divert my attention away from him, so he convinced me to terminate the pregnancy.
Unfortunately, that was only the beginning of many abortions to come. A year later, I became pregnant again, and he persuaded me to terminate it using the same excuse.
My doctor warned me that I had a thinner-than-average uterine wall. Two abortions in one year would have a negative impact on my health. He advised me to use some protection if I did not want to become pregnant.
Since then, I’ve insisted Wesley use protection every time. It worked—we avoided any further unwanted pregnancies.
However, Wesley’s parents became concerned after we had been childless for eight years, but Wesley was too cowardly to tell them that he didn’t intend to have children. My in-laws thought I was infertile and criticised me, treating me worse over time.
Every time I was on the verge of tears, Wesley would tell me to keep it together.
Once, his mother, Maria, sneaked into our villa and tampered with all of our sheaths, resulting in yet another unplanned pregnancy.
I still remembered what the doctor had said to me. He warned me not to have an abortion or risk becoming infertile.
Because I wanted to be a mother, I refused to have an abortion and told Wesley the doctor’s opinion. He fell silent after learning the truth.
I wanted to keep the baby, but Wesley said he wasn’t ready to become a father. He refused to allow a child to disrupt our lives and marriage.
I was stunned by his words and couldn’t understand why he was so opposed to having children. But we had a good relationship, and I didn’t want the topic of childrearing to become a point of contention. Finally, I went to the hospital to have an abortion, accompanied by Wesley.
The doctor’s prognosis was bleak: I would struggle to conceive in the future. Wesley hugged me afterward, admitting it was his fault and promising to treat me better and never leave my side. But his words sounded hollow.
When my in-laws discovered I was infertile, they treated me even worse. Wesley did not speak up for me. He left me to face the scorn of my in-laws.
Charlotte, my trusted right-hand woman, had been reassigned as Wesley’s secretary soon after he joined my company. Before seeing those photos, I clung to a sliver of hope, desperately hoping that my suspicions were incorrect.
Then my phone vibrated with another notification: a second blow from the private detective. My hands trembled while I read the message.
Charlotte was pregnant.
How could she be knocked up?
My emotions boiled over as memories of my past with Wesley flooded back. Two years into our relationship, I became pregnant with his child.
However, instead of joy, Wesley was upset. He claimed that having a baby would divert my attention away from him, so he convinced me to terminate the pregnancy.
Unfortunately, that was only the beginning of many abortions to come. A year later, I became pregnant again, and he persuaded me to terminate it using the same excuse.
My doctor warned me that I had a thinner-than-average uterine wall. Two abortions in one year would have a negative impact on my health. He advised me to use some protection if I did not want to become pregnant.
Since then, I’ve insisted Wesley use protection every time. It worked—we avoided any further unwanted pregnancies.
However, Wesley’s parents became concerned after we had been childless for eight years, but Wesley was too cowardly to tell them that he didn’t intend to have children. My in-laws thought I was infertile and criticised me, treating me worse over time.
Every time I was on the verge of tears, Wesley would tell me to keep it together.
Once, his mother, Maria, sneaked into our villa and tampered with all of our sheaths, resulting in yet another unplanned pregnancy.
I still remembered what the doctor had said to me. He warned me not to have an abortion or risk becoming infertile.
Because I wanted to be a mother, I refused to have an abortion and told Wesley the doctor’s opinion. He fell silent after learning the truth.
I wanted to keep the baby, but Wesley said he wasn’t ready to become a father. He refused to allow a child to disrupt our lives and marriage.
I was stunned by his words and couldn’t understand why he was so opposed to having children. But we had a good relationship, and I didn’t want the topic of childrearing to become a point of contention. Finally, I went to the hospital to have an abortion, accompanied by Wesley.
The doctor’s prognosis was bleak: I would struggle to conceive in the future. Wesley hugged me afterward, admitting it was his fault and promising to treat me better and never leave my side. But his words sounded hollow.
When my in-laws discovered I was infertile, they treated me even worse. Wesley did not speak up for me. He left me to face the scorn of my in-laws.