Betrayed by My Fiancé: Left Pregnant in the Rainforest

The rain soaked through my clothes, chilling me to the bone by the time I reached the neon-lit convenience store on the edge of the highway.

I slammed the payphone receiver against my ear, shivering uncontrollably.

"Dad? It's me."

"What do you want, Elena?" Robert's voice blasted through the cheap speaker, vibrating with annoyance.

"Lucas left me in the woods. I had to walk miles in the storm."

"And whose fault is that?" he snapped.

"Dad, please. I have nowhere to go. Can I come home?"

"Your things are all in the dumpster by the door."

I gripped the metal cord of the phone. "What?"

"You ruined Serena's salon. Lucas's family is furious. You think I'm going to lose my business loans because you can't keep your mouth shut?"

"I'm your daughter! I'm pregnant with your grandchild!"

"Don't call me again," he growled. "You make me embarrassed to show my face in this town."

The line went dead.

The dial tone buzzed, a steady, flat drone that sounded exactly like a death knell.

I hung up. I had no one.

My bare feet slapped against the pristine linoleum of Seattle General Hospital's maternity ward.

Brown, muddy rainwater dripped from my ruined dress, leaving a filthy trail across the waiting room floor.

The receptionist wrinkled her nose, sliding a clipboard across the counter. "Ma'am, the ER is downstairs."

I shoved the clipboard back. "I need to schedule a termination."

Her fingers froze over her keyboard. She eyed my swollen stomach. "You're well into the second trimester."

"I know exactly how far along I am. Get me a doctor."

"You need a psychiatric evaluation first, and—"

"I need a doctor," I interrupted, my voice cracking like dry wood. "Now."

Dr. Chen flipped through my emergency ultrasound results, his brow furrowing deeper with every page.

He tossed the manila file onto his metal desk.

"You are severely malnourished, Elena." He tapped the glossy image of my twenty-one-week scan. "Your blood pressure is dangerously low."

I kept my spine rigid against the examination chair. "When can you perform the procedure?"

"Did you hear what I just said?" He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. "Your uterine wall is extremely thin."

"I don't care about the wall."

"You should." He pointed a pen at me. "At this stage, a surgical abortion will cause irreversible damage."

My nails dug into my palms, carving half-moons into the skin. "I accept the risks."

"You might lose the chance to ever be a mother again," he warned, his tone dropping an octave.

I turned my head toward the black-and-white monitor showing the tiny curve of a spine.

"Do it." My voice didn't waver.

"Elena, this isn't a decision to make lightly. You are twenty-one weeks."

"I can't even protect myself." I met his gaze, refusing to blink. "How can I let a child suffer with me?"

He studied my face, searching for hesitation. He found none.

He sighed heavily, pulling a prescription pad from his drawer.

"Seven days. Next Thursday at 8 AM. We have to prep your cervix."

"Thank you."

"Eat something before you collapse," he ordered. "If your vitals drop any lower, I won't put you under anesthesia."

The private elevator doors parted, spilling me into the foyer of Lucas's downtown penthouse.

Warm air rushed over my freezing frame, carrying the sharp scent of single malt whiskey and expensive cigars.

"Well, look what the storm dragged in."

Lucas lounged on the Italian leather sofa, a crystal glass dangling from his fingers.

Derek sat across from him, grinning like a jackal.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, water pooling at my feet on the hardwood floor.

"How did you make yourself look like such a ghost?" Lucas swirled his drink, his eyes raking over my muddy appearance.

I didn't answer.

"Even heavily pregnant, you can't stay put," he mocked.

Laughter erupted from Derek. He slammed his glass onto the coffee table.

"Thought you said she'd be crying at the ranger station, man."

"I figured she'd learn her lesson." Lucas pushed himself up, stalking toward me. "Clearly, she's just stubborn."

I didn't back away when he stopped inches from my face. "You left me to die."

"I left you to think." He reached out, flicking a wet lock of hair off my cheek.

I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me."

Derek chuckled, pouring himself another shot. "She's got some fight left in her, Hale."

I turned my head, catching sight of the dining room wall.

A massive, silver-foil balloon arched across the floor-to-ceiling window. *Future Mrs. Hale.*

Beneath it, an elegant countdown board displayed our wedding date. Exactly one month from today.

My stomach churned.

In four weeks, I would be six months pregnant. I would be massive, waddling, and completely vulnerable.

He didn't want to marry me out of love. He wanted a spectacle.

"You're going through with the wedding," I stated, the realization turning my blood to ice.

"Of course." Lucas smiled, a cold, empty expression. "We sent the final invitations yesterday. The entire city is coming."

He wanted everyone to see me. The disgraced, pregnant bride.

It was his execution day for me, a public humiliation for exposing Serena's scam.

"I won't be there," I told him.

Lucas grabbed my chin, his grip bruising my jaw. "You'll be there, Elena."

"You can't force me down the aisle."

"I can make sure your father loses his pension, his house, and everything he owns."

I glared into his dark eyes, the secret of my appointment with Dr. Chen burning a hole in my chest.

He thought he was going to parade a pregnant, broken woman in front of Seattle's elite.

He had no idea I would be empty by then.

"We'll see about that," I whispered, jerking my face out of his grasp.

The front door clicked open behind me.

A high-pitched, familiar voice echoed through the hallway.

"Lucas, baby? I brought the cake samples."