Ditched the Cheater, Pregnant by Mr. Righ novel Chapter 1

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Chapter 1 Still a Virgin

It was a secret Quinn Lane guarded with a burning shame: after three years of marriage, she was still a virgin.
The reek of whiskey on Chase Sterling’s breath was suffocating as he slammed her against the cold wall. His grip was a brutal vise, his fingers digging into her chin, forcing her head up to meet his gaze.
His voice was a low, mocking drawl.
“You want me to kiss you? Forget it. I will never touch you!”
Quinn had lost count of how many times she had heard those words.
“God, Quinn, you’re just so…” he said and leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper in her ear. “Pathetic. Even after all this, you’re still pathetically in love with me.”
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, her lashes trembling against her skin. This was far from the first time his words had been weapons. She should have been numb to it by now. Her heart should have turned to stone.
But a familiar ache still bloomed deep inside her, a relentless tide of pain crashing over her again and again.
They say death by a thousand cuts was the cruelest form of ancient torture. But the agony Chase inflicted was a thousand times worse. It felt as though every cell in her body was screaming, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
It wasn’t just that he didn’t love her.
It was the crushing weight of reality, the bitter regret for everything she had done. She had been a fool to cling to the fantasy that her love could one day thaw his frozen heart.
“What right do you have to cry, Quinn?” he snarled. “You owe me this! All of this is your fault!”
He finally released her, yanking off his tie as he stalked toward the bathroom.
Quinn’s body slid down the cool wall until she crumpled to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in the soft fabric of her pajama pants as silent tears soaked through.
She had been married to Chase for three years, and she had endured this private hell for just as long. The warmth and affection he had once shown her felt like a distant dream, a puff of smoke that had long since vanished. All that remained was a hollow, aching bitterness.
She was lost in a fog-shrouded swamp with no solid ground beneath her feet and no way out.
She didn’t know how long she sat there before the chime of her phone shattered the silence. The sound pulled her back to the present. When she tried to move, a jolt of pins and needles shot through her numb legs. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up, steadying her trembling body against the wall as she reached for her phone.
She took a deep, shaky breath before answering.
“Quinn, honey, it’s Mom.”
The voice of her adoptive mother, Elaine Lane, came through the speaker.
Quinn managed a quiet, “Hi.”
“Rosalie called. It’s getting cold where she is, and she wants a new comforter,” Elaine said, her tone brisk. “Quinn, I need you to make her two of them. Use that super-soft fabric you always use, and make sure the stitching is perfect. Well, I think I don’t need to tell you that. I know you’ll do a good job.”
“Mom…” Quinn started, “I don’t have time these next few days. I’m in the middle of a design competition…”
Elaine cut her off. “What competition could possibly be more important than your sister? Have you lost all sense of priority? Get them done in the next two days. I’ll have someone pick them up, understand?”
The line went dead.
Quinn stared blankly at her phone. A fresh wave of despair washed over her, and a single tear escaped, splashing onto the back of her hand. She sniffled, took another deep breath, and opened her messages to text Rosalie Lane.
Rosalie was her older sister, though they shared no blood. Quinn was an orphan, adopted by the Lane family when she was just two years old. It wasn’t until she was older that she understood why. The Lane family had a daughter who had been lost, and the grief had nearly destroyed Elaine. Adopting Quinn was their way of trying to piece their lives back together.
But then, the unthinkable happened. When Quinn was six, their biological daughter, eight-year-old Rosalie, was found.
And just like that, the Lane family had two daughters.
One was their own flesh and blood, miraculously returned.
The other was an orphan, a stranger.
Though the Lane family claimed to the world that they loved both girls equally, a performance that earned them endless praise from neighbors and friends for their kindness and generosity, Quinn knew the truth.
The phrase she heard most often growing up was, “Your sister was taken, Quinn. She suffered so much. Now that she’s finally home, don’t you think you should give her what she wants?”
So, Rosalie’s needs always came first. And Quinn’s role was to serve them. For years, Quinn had done everything Rosalie asked without question. After all, Rosalie’s parents had saved her from a life in an orphanage.
But three years ago, Rosalie had abruptly decided to study abroad. Everyone begged her not to go, but she was resolute.
She left Quinn to face the fallout.
Just before she left, Rosalie had said, “For Quinn’s happiness, I have to leave.”
That one sentence had shackled Quinn in guilt, branding her an ungrateful wretch who had driven her perfect sister away.
Quinn had tried to explain, but no one would listen.
Then Chase had proposed. Quinn was ecstatic, blinded by what she thought was love. It was only after the wedding that she understood the truth: this marriage was her punishment. It was only after they were married that she learned the man whose ring she wore was in love with her sister.
Not just Chase, but all of their childhood friends now looked at her with resentment. From the day Rosalie left, Quinn’s life had become a living hell.
To make matters worse, Rosalie would call Chase from overseas, urging him to take good care of Quinn. In front of Quinn, Chase was domineering, cruel, and even violent. But on the phone with Rosalie, his voice would soften, becoming gentle, cultured, almost reverent.
He told Quinn that he had only ever been kind to her in the first place because she was Rosalie’s little sister.
Quinn had mistaken his kindness for something more. A young girl experiencing her first crush, she had fallen hopelessly for the handsome, charming man who seemed to dote on her. She had confessed her feelings, and he had rejected her. She cried herself to sleep that night, and the very next day, Rosalie announced she was leaving the country.
At the airport, Rosalie had whispered to her, “Anyone’s heart can be won, Quinn. Just be good to Chase, and I promise he’ll come to love you.”
Because of those words, Quinn had married him without a second thought.
But three years had passed, and Chase wouldn’t even touch her.
“If it weren’t for you, Rosalie never would have left,” he had spat at her. “If it weren’t for you, she and I might have had a chance. You ruined my life!”
In his mind, Rosalie was a saint, too pure and good to ever be with a man her own sister loved. Quinn’s affection, therefore, was a catastrophic burden.
And Quinn’s heart, once so full of hope, had slowly grown cold and died under the constant barrage of his cruelty.
A message from Rosalie appeared on her screen.
“If you’re busy, don’t worry about the comforters. Don’t let something so small get in the way of your competition. It’s okay if I can’t sleep.”
Then, another message popped up.
“How are things with you and Chase?”
Quinn blinked, her thick lashes fluttering. The old Quinn would have been frantic with guilt at the thought of Rosalie being unable to sleep. She would have dropped everything, heartbroken.
But now, she just felt the bitter sting of irony. The old Quinn would have forgiven Rosalie instantly and tried even harder to please her, always feeling indebted to her and her family.
But something inside her had snapped.
With a force that felt like it took all the strength she had left, she typed out her reply, one word at a time.
“I want to divorce Chase.”
The message had barely been sent when her phone began to ring. It was Rosalie.

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