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My Love for my Ex-husband Never Came Back Novel Cover

My Love for my Ex-husband Never Came Back

After receiving a prenatal injection, I received an anonymous video on my phone. In the video, a man sang nursery rhymes with a little boy wearing a birthday hat. He dabbed a bit of cream on his finger and smiled as he smeared it on a woman's nose. Then he bent down to kiss it away. My phone slipped from my hand to the floor, and I trembled all over uncontrollably. The scar on the inside of the man's wrist was an old one, left from the time he saved me. Around his neck hung the pendant I had fetched for him from a famous church to ensure his safety. When I returned home, the expansive riverside apartment felt empty. The housekeeper brought some herbal soup meant to stabilize my pregnancy. She sighed and placed it on the table. "Mr. Stewart has a social engagement this evening and won't be home for dinner." It was the tenth night he had used this excuse not to come home. I removed the diamond ring that symbolized our love and called the lawyer. I didn't want to wait any longer. My husband, Bruce Stewart, had given his tenderness to another woman and was not worth my love.
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Chapter 5

Outside the emergency room, my lawyer, Martin, paced anxiously along the corridor. His face was etched with worry.

Martin was the son of my father's colleague and grew up with Bruce and me.

He took out his phone, repeatedly dialing Bruce's number.

Once, twice, three times...

The phone only returned a cold busy signal. No one answered it.

Martin was so annoyed that he almost crushed his phone into pieces.

He knew that Bruce was likely busy at another hospital at that time, tenderly comforting his frightened mistress.

Two hours felt like forever.

The emergency room doors remained firmly shut, and Bruce's call came through.

Martin took a deep breath and picked it up.

On the other end, Bruce's voice came through, weary and slightly impatient. "Martin? What's going on? "I was just with Rosalyn at the hospital, getting her wounds treated. My phone was muted, and I didn't check it. You'd better have something big."

Before Martin could speak, Bruce continued on his own. "Luckily, Rosalyn is fine, just a little scrape on her forehead."

His casual tone fueled Martin's anger even further.

Without waiting for Martin to question him, Bruce asked, "How's Vera? When I left, she was lying on the floor. Was she playing up again? The carpet was thick enough. She just fell on her own. Her baby must be fine, right? Her constitution might be weak, but she shouldn't be so delicate. She just had a shot to protect the pregnancy a few days ago. It shouldn't be easy for something to go wrong with the baby. When she wakes up, tell her not to use the baby to threaten me. I don't have that much patience. I'll go back as soon as I'm done here with Rosalyn."

Martin listened to Bruce's incessant shirking of responsibility, and his hand holding the phone trembled violently. "Bruce, you deserve what's coming to you. The doctor was just here. The baby... is gone."

The other end fell into a stunned silence.

After a few seconds, Bruce's breathing became erratic. He asked with a trembling voice, "Martin, what the hell are you talking about? That brat just pushed her a little... How could the baby be gone? You're lying. You're deliberately lying to me to help her."

His voice had completely changed in tone.

Martin's voice was icy cold. "It was your precious son who pushed her down. You wanted to shield that shameless mistress and killed your own baby. Bruce, she will never forgive you!"

Martin abruptly ended the call.

In the other hospital's corridor, Bruce's phone slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor.

He stood there, shocked.

Martin's words reverberated in his mind. "You killed your own baby."

He finally realized he had shattered the most precious thing.

"Ah—" Bruce let out a pained scream and dashed out of the hospital. He headed toward the hospital where Vera was.

He stumbled repeatedly and fell and got back up, haunted by the scene when I was lying in a pool of blood, writhing in agony.

He was wrong.

He was terribly wrong.

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