The Sixth Baby Won’t Be His - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading The Sixth Baby Won’t Be His, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of The Sixth Baby Won’t Be His.
"Gerrald, I warned you—anyone who betrays true sincerity deserves to swallow a thousand needles. Back then, you laughed it off like it was nothing. But look at you now. What's the matter? If she meant nothing to you, then why did you have your assistant call her 'Madam'?"
Lucas's voice was calm, but every word hit Gerrald like a hammer to the chest.
"I saw Jenny standing outside that day," Lucas continued. "She heard every word you said. I watched the tears roll down her face. There's no way she missed it. The only one lying to yourself here is you—pretending like none of this matters."
"Can you even imagine how she felt? Realizing her whole marriage was a lie? That the man she loved more than anything had been in love with someone else the entire time? That he killed their children just to please another woman? And now, that same woman is standing here, ready to marry you? Do you honestly think Jenny would stay after learning the truth?"
Lucas exhaled, his gaze unwavering. "Gerrald, if you still want to marry Lydia, I won't stop you. But now that something's happened to Jenny… do you really want to go through with this? Are you really that heartless?"
Silence swallowed the wedding hall. Gerrald's mind reeled, thoughts crashing like storm waves. If Jenny had only ever been a tool to him… then why had he always called her 'Madam'?
His eyes drifted to the little flower girl standing nearby, her face pure innocence. And suddenly, he thought of his own children—his and Jenny's. Five lives, gone before they ever took a breath. He remembered the way Jenny's eyes used to light up with hope every time she carried their child. How that light faded with each loss, until nothing was left but hollow emptiness.
At some point, he'd even thought—if she got pregnant again, this time, he'd let the baby live. He liked the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy, like stars in the night. He'd always believed Lydia was the one he wanted to marry. So why, standing here now, did he feel none of the joy he'd imagined?
Instead, his mind flashed to Jenny in a wedding dress—not as bold as Lydia, but soft, radiant, like a dream. The words "I do" sat on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't force them out.
Lydia tightened her grip on his arm, her voice sharp with unease. "Gerrald, stop overthinking this. She's just running away. She doesn't want us to get married, so she's playing games."
She let out a harsh laugh. "For years, you let her eat, drink, and live under your roof, and she still didn't know her place. She was nothing but a shadow mistress, yet she actually dreamed of becoming Mrs. Raymond? Pathetic."
Her tone turned venomous. "She was just your plaything, Gerrald. Now that I'm back, she's worthless. And now she sends you an abortion certificate like you'd even care? That woman is disgusting."
Gerrald stared at her, something cold settling in his chest. Once, he'd loved her arrogance. Now, hearing her spit such cruelty, it scraped against him like nails on glass. Jenny had ached to be a mother. There was no way she'd have given up that baby so easily. And then—it clicked.
The date on the abortion certificate. His eyes darkened. Without warning, he grabbed Lydia by the throat, fingers digging into her delicate skin. "That day at the hotel—what did you say to her?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl.
Lydia's eyes widened in shock. She clawed at his grip, struggling to stay composed. "Gerrald, what's wrong with you? I didn't do anything! She was the one who attacked me! You saw it yourself!"
His grip didn't loosen. "You fought with her, and the next day, she had an abortion. What. Did. You. Say?"
For the first time, Lydia felt real fear.
"Gerrald!" she gasped. "You're seriously doubting me over her? She's a parasite! She's been sucking you dry for years, clinging to you like some sick obsession! Of course she'd get rid of anything in her way! Don't let her manipulate you!"
Gerrald's face was unreadable. But deep down, something had changed.
For the first time, he was truly afraid.
Afraid he'd made a mistake he could never take back.
Lucas's voice was calm, but every word hit Gerrald like a hammer to the chest.
"I saw Jenny standing outside that day," Lucas continued. "She heard every word you said. I watched the tears roll down her face. There's no way she missed it. The only one lying to yourself here is you—pretending like none of this matters."
"Can you even imagine how she felt? Realizing her whole marriage was a lie? That the man she loved more than anything had been in love with someone else the entire time? That he killed their children just to please another woman? And now, that same woman is standing here, ready to marry you? Do you honestly think Jenny would stay after learning the truth?"
Lucas exhaled, his gaze unwavering. "Gerrald, if you still want to marry Lydia, I won't stop you. But now that something's happened to Jenny… do you really want to go through with this? Are you really that heartless?"
Silence swallowed the wedding hall. Gerrald's mind reeled, thoughts crashing like storm waves. If Jenny had only ever been a tool to him… then why had he always called her 'Madam'?
His eyes drifted to the little flower girl standing nearby, her face pure innocence. And suddenly, he thought of his own children—his and Jenny's. Five lives, gone before they ever took a breath. He remembered the way Jenny's eyes used to light up with hope every time she carried their child. How that light faded with each loss, until nothing was left but hollow emptiness.
At some point, he'd even thought—if she got pregnant again, this time, he'd let the baby live. He liked the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy, like stars in the night. He'd always believed Lydia was the one he wanted to marry. So why, standing here now, did he feel none of the joy he'd imagined?
Instead, his mind flashed to Jenny in a wedding dress—not as bold as Lydia, but soft, radiant, like a dream. The words "I do" sat on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't force them out.
Lydia tightened her grip on his arm, her voice sharp with unease. "Gerrald, stop overthinking this. She's just running away. She doesn't want us to get married, so she's playing games."
She let out a harsh laugh. "For years, you let her eat, drink, and live under your roof, and she still didn't know her place. She was nothing but a shadow mistress, yet she actually dreamed of becoming Mrs. Raymond? Pathetic."
Her tone turned venomous. "She was just your plaything, Gerrald. Now that I'm back, she's worthless. And now she sends you an abortion certificate like you'd even care? That woman is disgusting."
Gerrald stared at her, something cold settling in his chest. Once, he'd loved her arrogance. Now, hearing her spit such cruelty, it scraped against him like nails on glass. Jenny had ached to be a mother. There was no way she'd have given up that baby so easily. And then—it clicked.
The date on the abortion certificate. His eyes darkened. Without warning, he grabbed Lydia by the throat, fingers digging into her delicate skin. "That day at the hotel—what did you say to her?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl.
Lydia's eyes widened in shock. She clawed at his grip, struggling to stay composed. "Gerrald, what's wrong with you? I didn't do anything! She was the one who attacked me! You saw it yourself!"
His grip didn't loosen. "You fought with her, and the next day, she had an abortion. What. Did. You. Say?"
For the first time, Lydia felt real fear.
"Gerrald!" she gasped. "You're seriously doubting me over her? She's a parasite! She's been sucking you dry for years, clinging to you like some sick obsession! Of course she'd get rid of anything in her way! Don't let her manipulate you!"
Gerrald's face was unreadable. But deep down, something had changed.
For the first time, he was truly afraid.
Afraid he'd made a mistake he could never take back.
End of The Sixth Baby Won’t Be His Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to The Sixth Baby Won’t Be His book page.