The Sixth Baby Won’t Be His - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

"Back in my day, a filthy little whore like her would've been drowned in a pigsty," Gerrald's mother sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "She's nothing compared to a proper girl like you, Lydia."
She clasped Lydia's hands in hers, her smile sickly sweet. "It's settled then. Gerrald isn't getting any younger, and I won't wait any longer. He'll marry you—today."
This wasn't my first time standing in the Raymond family's grand hall as nothing more than Gerrald's assistant.
Years ago, he'd sworn his mother would never accept me—not with my "questionable" past. But it doesn't matter, he'd said, because I choose you. He promised we'd get the marriage license first, then slowly win her over. I'd believed him. I'd waited. Seven years later, I was still waiting.
Now, his mother had somehow discovered my five stillborn births, and her disgust was palpable. To her, I was a slut, a disgrace, a stain on their pristine legacy.
"A whore like her doesn't deserve to stay another second in this house. Gerrald, get rid of her."
There was a time he might've defended me—half-heartedly, but still. Now, with Lydia glowing under the chandeliers, I didn't even exist in his eyes.
With a theatrical sigh, he relented. "Fine. Since I'm leaving for my business trip the day after tomorrow, I'll take Lydia with me. We'll have the wedding there."
No hesitation. No remorse.
Lydia batted her lashes, playing coy. "But I haven't even picked out my dress or my ring yet."
Right on cue, the doors swung open. Twenty-three custom haute couture wedding dresses—each designed by world-famous fashion houses, booked years in advance—rolled into the hall. Beside them, diamond rings glittered like trapped stars. One in particular—a pink diamond—I recognized from last month's auction. Two hundred million dollars.
This wasn't some last-minute plan. This had been in the works for years.
Lydia squealed, throwing herself at Gerrald. "Oh my God, they're all my size! And twenty-three—the year we met! You were thinking of me even back then, weren't you?"
He smirked, his eyes soft with indulgence.
I glanced at my own ring—a cheap silver band he'd given me the day he proposed. Too tight, digging into my skin. I'd tried to take it off before, but it never budged. Meanwhile, those diamond rings? Each one fit Lydia perfectly.
It wasn't an oversight. It wasn't forgetfulness.
He'd never seen me at all.
Standing there, I felt like the butt of some cruel joke. I bolted for the bathroom, splashing icy water on my face, but nothing could wash away the raw, searing pain in my chest.
When I stepped out, Gerrald was waiting. He pulled me into an embrace, pressing a delicate perfume bottle into my hands.
"Are you jealous?" he murmured, his voice honeyed with fake concern. "Today's my mother's birthday—I couldn't say no. Marrying Lydia? Just for show. The dresses? The rings? All for her."
His thumb brushed my cheek. "Once we're abroad, I'll explain everything. You're the one I love. We have the marriage license, Jenny. Just give me a month, and I'll make it official. I'll give you the wedding you deserve."
He smirked, lifting the perfume. "I know how much you love scents. This one's brand-new—exclusive. See how much I care?"
My fingers clenched around the bottle.
Pathetic.
This was one of the wedding favors—thousands of them—meant for his guests to celebrate his love story with Lydia. And now he was handing it to me, spinning another lie, expecting me to swallow it.
I forced a smile. "Thank you, Gerrald."
And in that moment, I swore—this would be the last time he ever played me for a fool.