His expression shifted—like he was dealing with an unreasonable child.
"Oh, this is about the group chat, isn't it?"
He sighed, his tone light, like he was explaining something trivial.
"Emily, before we got married, we agreed—this was just to keep our parents happy, right?"
"They're happy with the way things are. I'm happy."
"So what exactly are you unhappy about?"
Our marriage was never about love. Just obligation.
The Harrison and Sinclair families had been close for generations.
But while our parents were practically family, Lucas and I barely knew each other.
I had studied abroad in high school while he stayed behind.
We never talked, never kept in touch.
Then, when I returned, our parents decided we were the perfect match.
They pulled every trick in the book—crying, threatening, guilt-tripping.
"This is the best decision for both of you!"
"We've paved the way for your future, and you're telling me you'd rather struggle?"
"That boyfriend of yours? Forget it. Over my dead body."
"Unless your father and I drop dead, this marriage is happening."
They were relentless. They took our credit cards, confiscated our phones, even stationed bodyguards outside our doors.
Their only job? Making sure Lucas and I couldn't escape.
In the end, I broke up with my boyfriend.
Gave in. Let them win.
Right before we got our marriage license, Lucas had told me coldly, "Guess we're in this together. Just play along, and don't take it seriously."
I knew his heart belonged to Scarlett.
But I never thought he'd be this blatant about it.
Cheating was one thing.
But secretly drugging me with birth control for three years—so I wouldn't get in the way of his real love life?
It was disgusting.
It was unforgivable.
I took a deep breath, then asked the question I already knew the answer to.
"So you're keeping this baby?"
Scarlett wouldn't have accepted all those wedding gifts if Lucas hadn't given her the green light.
She wouldn't set herself up like that unless she was absolutely sure.
Lucas clenched his jaw.
"Emily, I want a child."
My hand moved before I could think.
The slap echoed through the room.
It was all so ridiculous.
I laughed—ugly, bitter laughter that mixed with my tears.
Then I turned and stormed into the bedroom.
The test results were still on the desk.
The lab report. The hospital's diagnosis.
I grabbed the papers and hurled them at him.
"Lucas, read it yourself.”
"The folic acid you gave me... it was birth control, wasn't it?"
Lucas suddenly looked panicked, clutching both reports in his hands, flipping them back and forth.
His voice trembled.
"Emily..."
"You fed me birth control for three years, and now you're telling me you want a baby?"
"If you were so desperate to have a kid with Scarlett, you could've just told me."
"I would've helped you keep it from our parents."
"But instead, you disguised birth control as vitamins and tricked me into taking them."
"I can handle anything—except you hurting me like this."
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