Valentine’s Day Betrayal

The room erupted into laughter.

"You’re such a hypocrite, Claire. Has Ethan neglected you for so long that you’ve developed a fascination with these things?"

Humiliation burned through me. I clawed at the floor, struggling to get up—only to see a patch of red spreading between my legs.

Panic gripped me. I grabbed Ethan’s hand, my voice trembling with desperation.

"Ethan, help me! The baby... my baby!"

For a brief moment, he froze. His gaze locked onto the crimson stain seeping through my clothes, and a flash of clarity broke through his drunken haze.

"You’re pregnant?"

Pain stole my breath. Before I could speak, Taylor yanked him back forcefully.

"Ethan, wake up! Do you even know the difference between pregnancy and a normal physiological reaction?

"Women bleed during ovulation too. You haven’t touched her in ages—of course, seeing that made you jump to conclusions."

Disgust flickered across the faces in the room as they nodded in agreement.

"She says no, but her body says yes. You’re really playing hard to get, huh?”

"Good thing Taylor caught on fast. Otherwise, we might’ve actually believed it. That’s some impressive acting—turning red on command!"

Ethan’s outstretched hand jerked back. His expression twisted into one of pure revulsion.

Then, without warning, he grabbed a glass of wine and poured it over my head.

"You disgusting bitch! You faked a pregnancy just to get back at me? Are you out of your mind?"

Drenched in wine, I gasped as searing pain tore through my abdomen. Desperation clawed at my throat as I shook my head frantically.

"I’m not lying, Ethan! I really am pregnant…"

"Enough!"

Ethan’s furious voice cut through the air.

"You’ve taken this act too far! Do you have no shame?"

Taylor immediately wrapped herself around him, her voice laced with feigned concern.

"Don’t be so harsh with her. She’s probably just embarrassed and lashing out. Claire, if you really want these, I can have a few more boxes sent over."

Mark chimed in with a mocking smirk.

"Yeah, drop the act, Claire. If you want to celebrate, we can arrange something more exciting for you. No need for such a sloppy performance!"

I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath.

Suddenly, Ethan seized a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, forcing me to meet his cold, merciless gaze.

“Claire,” he snarled.

“If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll never learn your place!”

He waved his hand dismissively.

"Take her to the car! No one lets her out without my permission!"

Two waiters hesitated before stepping forward, their hands trembling.

"Mr. Scott, your wife doesn’t look well. Are you sure about this?"

"Shut up!"

Ethan’s furious roar echoed through the room as he hurled a glass bottle in my direction.

The two waiters flinched, too terrified to argue. Without another word, they obeyed his orders, grabbing my arms and half-dragging, half-hauling me toward the car.

Tears streamed down my face as I pleaded with the people around me.

"Help me! Please, someone help me!"

But the bar was too loud, the laughter and music drowning out my cries. No one noticed. No one cared.

The car door slammed shut, locking me inside. My vision blurred as warm blood seeped through my pants, staining the leather seats beneath me.

Inside the private lounge, Ethan still held Taylor in his arms, drinking and laughing as if nothing had happened.

Outside, the snowfall thickened. The temperature inside the car plummeted, frost creeping along the glass.

I pounded weakly against the window, struggling to stay conscious. My breath came in ragged gasps as the blood pooling beneath me spread.

I fought to stay awake, forcing what little strength I had left into my trembling hands. My bloodied palm left smeared red prints against the window—finally catching Ethan’s attention.

In the final moment before darkness claimed me, I heard his voice through the blizzard.

"Claire!"