Her Baby’s Not My Husband's - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Isaac's world collapsed around him like a sandcastle devoured by the waves. Refusing to accept my lab report, he bolted from the hospital that same day, desperate for a second opinion. The clinic's waiting room felt like a nightmare in slow motion. Slumped in a plastic chair, his leg jittered uncontrollably as he clutched the test receipt. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his usually crisp suit now wrinkled and stained from the chaos of the day.
When the results landed in his hands, he tore open the envelope with shaky fingers. The words glared back at him, merciless and irrefutable: [Azoospermia]. The truth was undeniable—he had been the infertile one all along.
The paper slipped from his grip, fluttering to the floor. His mind reeled, breaths shallow and uneven. Unaware that I had swapped his sample with a healthy donor's, he could only assume Jessica's pregnancy was proof of her infidelity.
Back at the hospital, Jessica lay pale and fragile in her bed, oblivious to the storm raging beyond her door. But Isaac didn't care. Without a word, he staggered out into the cold evening air, clutching the results like a death sentence.
Meanwhile, I packed my things and left the hotel, returning home.
Sunlight spilled through my bedroom window, glinting off the crystal vase on my nightstand—the one Isaac had given me years ago. For a fleeting moment, I considered smashing it, but even anger felt like too much effort.
As I hung my clothes in the closet, a commotion erupted outside. Isaac's voice—hoarse, desperate—cut through the silence.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
His fists hammered against the front door with such force the butler flinched.
"Lola! Please! Open the door! I need to see you!"
The butler stood firm, his expression icy. "Sir, you are no longer welcome here. Leave before I call security."
Isaac ignored him, his voice cracking as he shouted louder. "Lola! I'm begging you! Just let me talk to you!"
My father appeared in the entryway, his presence like a thundercloud. Fury radiated from him, his jaw clenched tight—a warning of the explosion to come. Without a word, he swung the door open just enough to deliver a stinging slap across Isaac's face.
The sound cracked through the foyer like a gunshot.
"You have the audacity to show your face here after what you've done?" my father roared, his voice trembling with rage. "Get out, you ungrateful bastard! My daughter doesn't want to see you. You betrayed her, humiliated her—for what? Some cheap fling?"
Isaac stumbled back, clutching his cheek, but he didn't retreat. His bloodshot eyes locked onto me as he kept pleading.
"Lola, I know I messed up! Just hear me out—please!"
My father motioned for the butler to slam the door, but I stopped him.
"Let him in," I said flatly.
"Lola, you don't owe him anything," my father argued, brows furrowed in concern.
"It's fine," I replied, my voice steady. "Nothing he says will change a thing."
Isaac staggered inside, shoulders hunched, a ghost of the man he once was. The second he crossed the threshold, he dropped to his knees before me.
"Lola, I'm sorry!" he sobbed, tears splattering onto the polished floor. "I was blind! I was stupid! I didn't appreciate you, and now I've lost everything!"
As he spoke, he struck himself hard across the face—smack—the sound sharp and jarring. "I deserve this! I deserve all of it!"
I stared down at him, unmoved. The man groveling before me was a stranger—pathetic, broken.
"I hurt you," he choked out, voice thick with tears. "I cheated. I lied. I betrayed you. But for the ten years we shared… can't you give me one more chance? I swear I'll make it right. I'll do anything!"
Ten years. The words echoed in my mind, heavy with the weight of wasted love, loyalty, and sacrifice.
"Enough," I cut in, my voice icy. "Stop groveling. You think I'm naive enough to forgive you just because you're on your knees? You only regret this because you've lost everything. If you still had your job, your reputation, Jessica by your side—would you even be here?"
Isaac's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air.
"You're pathetic," I continued, disdain dripping from every word. "No job. No future. No children. And to me? You're nothing."
His face crumpled as if I'd stabbed him.
"Lola, please," he whispered, barely audible. "I'll change. Just give me a chance to prove it."
I laughed—a hollow, bitter sound. "Prove what? That you can lie better next time? That you'll hide your affairs more carefully?"