I Raised My Husband's Love Child...Then He Shot Me

Chapter 33

"You know Daphne's never coming back to you, right?" Yvonne's voice was soft, almost mocking. "She's probably feeling all smug right now, thinking, Wow, look at Jonathan. He's pathetic enough to do anything to win me back."

Jonathan's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. "What's your point?"

"My point is…"

Her hand slid under his shirt, fingertips cold against his skin.

"What if you just stopped trying? Act like you don't care anymore. Maybe then she'll come crawling back to you."

The couch creaked under their weight. Jonathan's mind started to fog, drowning in her touch—until something flickered in the corner of his eye.

Upstairs. A shadow.

He blinked.

Wendy.

She was standing at the landing, frozen, swaying slightly, her hands over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face.

"Jonathan…" Her voice was barely audible, choked by sobs and the sound of their tangled breaths.

Then—sharp pain stabbed her lower abdomen.

Her knees buckled. She gasped, trying to steady herself, but her foot missed the step—

"Ah!"

Her scream shattered the haze. Jonathan shoved Yvonne off him and bolted toward the stairs.

Wendy was curled on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. Her skin was ghost-pale, drenched in sweat.

"The baby… our baby…" she whispered, clutching his sleeve, her fingers trembling. "Please… help me…"

Outside the operating room, Nora's cries pierced the sterile hallway.

"My grandson! My poor grandson!"

She grabbed Jonathan's collar, her eyes wild. "Give him back! Give my daughter her life back!"

It took two nurses to pull her off.

The doctor emerged, his face grim as he pulled down his mask. "We did everything we could… but the baby didn't survive. It was a fully developed boy."

Wendy's mother collapsed onto the ground, her makeup streaked and smeared. "No… no, I had his fortune read! They said he was destined for greatness!"

Then, like a fury, she lunged at Jonathan, nails digging into his face.

"This is all your fault! You murderer!"

Jonathan didn't move. He stood still, letting her scratch him, blood trailing down his cheeks.

But what he felt wasn't grief.

It was relief.

The burden—the baby that was never meant to be—was gone.

His hands shook as he pulled out his phone and dialed.

It rang.

And rang.

Finally, Daphne picked up.

"Wendy lost the baby," Jonathan said, voice raw.

There was silence.

"And?" she replied coldly.

"We can start over," he blurted. "There's no baby now, no Wendy. Like you said, she and I were never legally married. It's all gone—"

"Jonathan," I cut him off, my voice calm but razor-sharp. "Are you out of your mind?"

He froze. "What?"

"I'll say it again, slowly this time—Are you out of your damn mind?"

Click.

The line went dead. The dial tone echoed in his ears.

Jonathan stared at his phone, the scratches on his face stinging like fire.

Did he really think that just because Wendy and the baby were gone, things could go back to the way they were?

What he never understood was—Wendy wasn't the issue. Without her, there'd just be a Wanda. Or a Whitney.

The problem was never the other woman.

It was Jonathan.

It was his betrayal. His cowardice. His rot beneath the charm.

The heartless one between us was never me.

It was always him.