When Forever Falls Apart

By the time I was rushed to the hospital, it was already around four or five in the morning.

In the haze of my fading consciousness, I vaguely heard the doctor gravely explaining my condition to Lina.

I needed immediate emergency care. It was only then that there might still be a chance to save my baby.

Just as Lina stepped out to handle the admission paperwork, the door to the doctor's office swung open.

The man who entered was aggressive, his tone sharp and entitled.

When the doctor calmly informed him that he was a gynecologist and couldn't treat gastrointestinal issues, the man snapped.

"Aren't you a specialist? I’m sure you can damn well deal with stomach problems too. Otherwise, you’re just incompetent."

Then he added coldly, “I know your hospital director. If you don’t treat Fran right now, don’t expect to come to work tomorrow.”

The doctor, visibly troubled, explained that he had a pregnant patient waiting for emergency care.

Dario glanced in my direction but didn’t say a word. Instead, he shrugged and replied indifferently, “It's nearly morning. The other doctors will be on shift soon. Let her wait, it won’t kill her.

“If anything goes wrong, I’ll take responsibility. See Fran first.”

I wanted to scream at him, but the searing pain in my body swallowed my voice.

Trapped in helpless rage, I finally lost consciousness.

…

When I came to, Lina was sitting at my side, her eyes swollen and red.

I knew instantly what had happened.

I slowly reached for my now-flat stomach.

There was a pang of sorrow, yes, but also a strange sense of relief.

With a father like Dario, perhaps not being born was a mercy.

I asked Lina to hand me my phone.

When I turned it on, I saw that Fran had flooded her social media with updates.

One photo showed her reclining in a bathtub, back exposed, surrounded by rose petals and red wine, the city skyline glittering in the distance.

Her caption read: [As promised, my beloved has finally come to me.]

Lina stood next to me, fists clenched in fury. “Those disgusting pigs!”

But I remained calm as I messaged my lawyer, asking her to draw up the divorce papers immediately.

Some entanglements should have ended long ago.

…

On the day I was discharged, Lina left to handle the final paperwork.

Just as I stepped out of the elevator, I spotted Dario.

Both of us were visibly startled as our eyes met.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a petite figure clinging to his side.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

For a brief moment, Dario looked visibly uncomfortable, but he quickly shoved Fran behind him and stared at me with guarded hostility.

“Are you following me again?” he snapped.

Before I could respond, Fran tugged on his arm.

“Dario, why are you being so harsh with Clea? That’s not very gentlemanly of you!” she cooed.

“She looks so pale. She must be here to see a doctor. Don’t judge too quickly, okay?”

Then, as if we were sharing some harmless little secret, she winked at me playfully.

“I’m so sorry, Clea. My stomach pain got really bad last night, and since Dario is such a good boss, he came over to check on me.

“Please don’t be mad at him. Getting angry makes you look older, you know?”

She sounded so innocent, yet every word was laced with passive-aggressive barbs, each one meant to provoke me.

I gave her a cool, dismissive smile.

“I’m not angry at all. I feel completely at ease with the heiress of the richest family taking time out of her busy schedule to care for Dario.”

I intentionally stressed the words “heiress of the richest family”.

A flicker of discomfort passed through Fran’s eyes, but she quickly shrank back behind Dario.

“Clea,” she said softly, “Even though I come from wealth, I never wanted to rely on my family’s name.

“I just want to prove myself through my own hard work. That’s why I’m really grateful to Dario. He’s taught me so much during my time working with him.”

Her words painted her as humble and hardworking, while simultaneously lavishing praise on Dario.

Sure enough, his gaze toward her softened further as it filled with affection.

“You truly are the most considerate and well-mannered woman I’ve ever met, Fran.”

Then he turned to me.

“You could really learn a thing or two from her, Clea.”

Then he stepped in closer and lowered his voice in warning.

“Even if Fran is too nice to fight back, she’s still the daughter of a billionaire. Watch your attitude around her. If her father hears anything, I won’t be able to protect you.”

I glanced at Fran’s smug expression, then chuckled as I pulled out my phone.

“What a coincidence,” I said.

“I happen to know you father personally. If his daughter is working at our company, I should probably give him a heads-up.”