Pregnant & Used, Until I Destroyed Him - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
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When I was two months pregnant, Julian begged me to donate blood to his childhood friend Anne. I refused—I was anemic, barely able to sustain my own pregnancy—but his friends accused me of being selfish.
"Anne's on the operating table, and you're the only match. What's the big deal? It's just a little blood." Before I could protest, hands grabbed me, shoving me toward the door.
For a second, Julian's expression wavered—guilt, maybe—but then his jaw set. "It won't hurt the baby." I stopped fighting. A tear escaped, trailing down my cheek.
Afterward, weak and dizzy, I dragged myself to the OB-GYN clinic.
I had the abortion.
For three days, I recovered alone in the hospital while Julian stayed glued to Anne's side. My womb was empty, but the ache in my chest was unbearable.
The day I was discharged, I ran into them—Julian, Anne, and his entire entourage. I carried my bag alone; Anne clung to Julian's arm, playing the fragile invalid.
He froze when he saw me. "Why are you still here?"
"No reason." I hid the truth, my face pale, and turned to leave.
"We're going together," he snapped, gripping my wrist like a command.
At the car, Anne immediately claimed the front seat, fluttering her lashes. "Scarlett, I just had surgery—I get carsick. You don't mind, right?"
I didn't argue. But when I moved to the back, his friends piled in, three grown men squeezing in just to glare at me.
"Scarlett, Anne's still weak. We're all staying at your place to help her recover."
I looked at Julian. His silence was answer enough. The cicadas screamed in the summer heat, mocking my foolish hope.
His friends despised me. To them, Anne was the perfect match, and I was the intruder. In my own home, they treated me like hired help—Julian never stopped them. Even pregnant, I was expected to bleed for Anne. No gratitude, just entitlement.
This wasn't new. But for the first time, I didn't fight. "Fine. I'll walk."
I slammed the car door. Rush hour meant no taxis. An hour under the scorching sun, fresh from surgery, I trudged home.
The moment I stepped inside, the complaints started.
"Finally! We've been waiting forever."
"We're starving—get cooking."
Julian sat beside Anne, fanning her in the stifling heat. The AC was off—"too cold for Anne." Sweat dripped down his temple, but he didn't care.
Sam barked, "Julian! Tell your wife to feed us!"
"Anne's on the operating table, and you're the only match. What's the big deal? It's just a little blood." Before I could protest, hands grabbed me, shoving me toward the door.
For a second, Julian's expression wavered—guilt, maybe—but then his jaw set. "It won't hurt the baby." I stopped fighting. A tear escaped, trailing down my cheek.
Afterward, weak and dizzy, I dragged myself to the OB-GYN clinic.
I had the abortion.
For three days, I recovered alone in the hospital while Julian stayed glued to Anne's side. My womb was empty, but the ache in my chest was unbearable.
The day I was discharged, I ran into them—Julian, Anne, and his entire entourage. I carried my bag alone; Anne clung to Julian's arm, playing the fragile invalid.
He froze when he saw me. "Why are you still here?"
"No reason." I hid the truth, my face pale, and turned to leave.
"We're going together," he snapped, gripping my wrist like a command.
At the car, Anne immediately claimed the front seat, fluttering her lashes. "Scarlett, I just had surgery—I get carsick. You don't mind, right?"
I didn't argue. But when I moved to the back, his friends piled in, three grown men squeezing in just to glare at me.
"Scarlett, Anne's still weak. We're all staying at your place to help her recover."
I looked at Julian. His silence was answer enough. The cicadas screamed in the summer heat, mocking my foolish hope.
His friends despised me. To them, Anne was the perfect match, and I was the intruder. In my own home, they treated me like hired help—Julian never stopped them. Even pregnant, I was expected to bleed for Anne. No gratitude, just entitlement.
This wasn't new. But for the first time, I didn't fight. "Fine. I'll walk."
I slammed the car door. Rush hour meant no taxis. An hour under the scorching sun, fresh from surgery, I trudged home.
The moment I stepped inside, the complaints started.
"Finally! We've been waiting forever."
"We're starving—get cooking."
Julian sat beside Anne, fanning her in the stifling heat. The AC was off—"too cold for Anne." Sweat dripped down his temple, but he didn't care.
Sam barked, "Julian! Tell your wife to feed us!"
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