Never Again, Never You

Bradley snatched the ultrasound up first. The second he saw what it was, his face scrunched like it reeked.

"Serena Linwood, faking a pregnancy? Seriously?"

I almost laughed.

Some people could stare truth in the face and still call it a lie.

Then, out of nowhere, he whipped the ultrasound sheet at me.

The edge sliced my cheek.

I pressed a hand to my face, eyes locked on him.

The guy I used to love felt like a total stranger now.

He used to bring me my favorite flowers, pull off cute little surprises.

If I got hurt, he'd wrap me up and say, "Does it hurt? Don't worry, I've got you."

Now? After the whole fake memory loss thing, he wouldn't even bother to spare me a glance.

Back when I heard he got hurt, I ran straight to the hospital.

But the way he looked at me—like I was dirt—cut deeper than any wound.

The guy who once loved me couldn't even stand being near me.

I tried everything to jog his memory. Climbed some endless stone steps to an old cathedral, begging for a miracle.

Walked away with busted knees, a scraped forehead, and no answers.

And him? He brought Vivian back.

"I don't know why I married you," he said, stone cold. "But I'll take responsibility. I'm not divorcing you. I only remember promising to love Vivian forever."

Just like that, he wiped out everything we had. Our whole story—gone.

He played the role so well, I didn't see it coming.

Not until day three after he threw me out. I was meeting a friend when I heard him laughing from a nearby room.

"Bradley, you really pulled it off. Got her to fall for you, then dumped her like a dog. She was totally played!"

And his voice? Chill as ever.

"She teamed up with my mom to kick Vivian out so she could marry me. She had it coming."

That's when it hit me— Bradley never loved me—he was just avenging Vivian.

He wanted me to fall, just so he could crush me with that fake amnesia act.

Their laughter kept echoing. I don't even remember leaving.

I just knew I felt nothing for him anymore. Not a spark.

Snapping back to the present, I crouched and picked up the sheet. Cool, calm.

"Whether I'm pregnant or not? Not your business anymore. Hope you and Vivian have a lovely life. Can I go now?"

The corridor went still.

No yelling. No last-minute pleas.

Bradley stared, eyes narrowing.

Swallowed hard, twice. Then muttered, jaw tight,

"You cook well. Vivian's been nauseous. Go make her something healthy."

Ordering me around—yeah, that was his thing.

But I wasn't the same Serena who used to stay quiet.

"Bradley, we're divorced. Your family's got more chefs than you can count. They'll do way better than me."

I said it flat, no warmth, and turned to go.

Bradley didn't care. Didn't even flinch.

Just grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the exit like my words meant nothing.

His grip was brutal, like he was trying to crush something.

Next thing I knew, he was dragging me back to his mansion—the last place on earth I ever wanted to be.