I Ctrl+Alt+Deleted My Ex and Ctrl+C'd His Uncle novel Chapter 29

**Through Silent Meadows We Trace Stories Left Behind**
*Yesterday*
by Asa Rowan Flint

**Chapter 29**

“Who is this?” A voice slick with grease and indifference slithered through the receiver, sending a shiver down Liam’s spine.

Lowering his tone, as if secrecy could cloak his intentions, Liam pressed on. “Did you sleep with Sophie like I asked? Did it work?” His heart raced, a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirling within him.

A brief silence hung in the air, thick with tension, before the man on the other end responded with a confidence that felt almost mocking. “Of course it worked!”

The memory of that night rushed back to him. He had approached the room, filled with excitement and expectation, only to find Sophie had vanished into thin air. A wave of disappointment crashed over him then, leaving him to wonder if the entire plan had unraveled. Yet, just recently, a notification had pinged on his phone—the rest of the payment had arrived.

Their agreement had been simple: he would only receive his payment if she ended up pregnant. The instant the funds appeared in his account, a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—someone else had taken his place in her life.

He didn’t care who the father was; all that mattered was the money.

“You sure it was you?” he pressed, skepticism creeping into his voice.

“You sure you’re the one who got her pregnant?” the man shot back, a hint of challenge in his tone.

“Damn right,” the man affirmed, his voice swelling with pride. “Chick’s belly is already showing. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

A sigh of relief escaped Liam’s lips, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Sophie had been growing increasingly close to Marcus lately, a fact that gnawed at him like an insatiable itch. He had briefly entertained the idea that the baby might belong to Marcus, a notion that filled him with dread.

But Marcus was notorious for his cold demeanor towards women—there was no way he’d ever lay a finger on one.

The next morning, Sophie awoke with a sense of urgency, her first instinct to reach for her phone.

As she scrolled through her notifications, her heart sank. Lena had indeed posted a public apology, and it was trending like wildfire.

Yet the content of the post made her frown deeply.

It was a lengthy, rambling essay filled with irrelevant family drama, and the incident at the pool was brushed aside in a single, dismissive sentence. The “I’m sorry” at the end felt hollow, like a mask hiding insincerity.

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