Aborted Love, Ruthless Empire

"How dare you abort my child!" Nathaniel's fingers clamped around my throat. The veins on his neck bulged, his eyes bloodshot.

Just a short while ago, his exlover had paraded back into the country, flaunting her illegitimate son.

Under the mocking gaze of a room full of spectators, he had publicly declared: "Having him is enough for me." So, I terminated my threemonth pregnancy.

I slapped his hand away and methodically smoothed out the wrinkles he had left on my collar.

I stared down into his devastated eyes, my expression devoid of pity. "Don't get so worked up. Didn't you say having that bastard was enough?

My business empire has no room for a tainted heir." Chapter 1 Kennedy crashed the birthday banquet with a child in tow.

Ignoring the shocked guests, she rushed right up to Nathaniel.

Tears streamed down her face in a pictureperfect display of distress. "Nathaniel, please, you have to save Finn." Finn was the boy clinging to her hand.

He looked about four years old. His little face was pale. His fingers gripped Kennedy's hand tightly as he took in the opulent surroundings like a frightened rabbit.

Nathaniel set his wine glass on the table.

He looked them up and down, his features carved from ice. "Why should I save him?" Kennedy didn't miss a beat. "Because he's your son." A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

No one could utter a word of doubt. The boy's features, though young and soft, were an exact carbon copy of Nathaniel's.

Nathaniel scoffed, staring down at her with undisguised disdain. "Just because you say he's mine makes it true? You've been gone for five years.

For all I know, he's the spawn of some random stray, and you're just looking for a meal ticket—" All the color drained from Kennedy's face. "Nathaniel!" A mocking smirk curled on Nathaniel's lips. "Am I wrong?" His narrow eyes were filled with naked contempt.

He looked as if the very sight of her repulsed him. I watched him closely.

My gaze locked onto the brief, almost imperceptible flutter of his eyelashes and the whiteknuckled grip of his fists at his sides.

He was spitting venom, but his body betrayed the silent, agonizing war tearing him apart inside. Kennedy stared at Nathaniel as if looking at a stranger.

Five years ago, Nathaniel had worshipped the ground she walked on. If she had asked for the moon, he would have built a rocket just to fetch it.

Now, all he offered was cold, calculated cruelty.

After a long, suffocating silence, a hollow laugh escaped her lips, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Let me tell you something, Nathaniel.

You are the only man I've ever had." "Finn is your son.

If he wasn't sick, if he wasn't dying and I wasn't completely out of options for his medical bills, I never would have come back. If you don't want to claim him, just say so.

You don't have to humiliate me." Her gaze drifted down to where my hand was linked with Nathaniel's. The redness in her eyes deepened into a tragic, pitiful display. "Forget it.

You have a thriving empire and a perfect marriage now. I shouldn't have disturbed your peace." She turned slightly in my direction. "Gemma, I'm sorry." The apology fell flat.

She didn't even meet my eyes. She just tugged the boy's hand and turned toward the exit. But the boy erupted into a tantrum.

He lunged forward and wrapped his little arms around Nathaniel's leg, clinging on for dear life. "No! I'm not leaving! I want Daddy!

I want Daddy!" He tilted his head back, his eyes swollen from crying, and looked up at the towering man with utter desperation. "Daddy—" My chest tightened.

I snapped my head toward Nathaniel. I hadn't even registered the exact moment his fingers had slipped away from mine.

He was staring down at the boy, a fleeting, unmistakable softness pooling in the depths of his eyes.

Kennedy marched over and scooped the boy into her arms, her face hardening. "He doesn't deserve to be your daddy." Without another backward glance, she marched right out of the banquet hall.

She came like a hurricane and left just as fast. The dramatic exit of her stunning silhouette left the entire room buzzing with scandalous whispers.

The chaotic farce had started and stopped in the blink of an eye. The guests here were masters of masking their true reactions. The banquet resumed its rhythmic hum.

A friend leaned in and whispered, "Do you know that woman?" I swirled the champagne in my glass.

I stared at Nathaniel's stiff back in the distance, not a single ripple of emotion breaking the surface of my eyes. "I know her.

Just another gold digger trying to use her uterus as a ladder to cross class lines." Chapter 2 In his younger years, Nathaniel was the city's notorious playboy.

The women on his arm rotated like a revolving door, none lasting past the threemonth mark. Kennedy was his only exception. His sole obsession.

When Kennedy broke into Hollywood, he took over his family's entertainment division just to act as her personal shield and funnel resources her way.

He visited the set of every movie she shot. Every time she won an award, he was the one handing her the trophy.

On camera, he looked at her with a devotion so thick it practically spilled from his eyes. Then, overnight, Kennedy announced her retirement and vanished off the face of the earth.

Nathaniel spent a year tearing the country apart looking for her, turning up nothing but dust. A year later, he married me right after I returned from abroad.

Everyone assumed I was just young, raised overseas, and oblivious to their epic, tragic history. They didn't know I saw every bit of it. Because I used to like Nathaniel.

A naive, childhood crush that had dragged on for years. Because I liked him, I watched. Back then, our two families needed a corporate merger to consolidate the market.

I returned to the States armed with a massive trust and core business projects.

I logically bought this marriage, and conveniently cashed in on my lingering childhood crush while I was at it. Postwedding life was mundane but comfortable.

We settled into a rhythm. On rainy days, we'd both push our laptops aside, lean back on the sofa in the dimly lit media room, and watch a movie shouldertoshoulder.

We'd murmur about the plot. Sometimes I'd ask about industry gossip, and he'd shoot me a flat look before spilling the details. He rarely smiled.

But when I laughed until my sides hurt, he would pull me into his chest. In those moments, our eyes would lock, our breaths tangling together. I thought that was love.

But right now, Kennedy's sudden reappearance shattered that fragile illusion. I looked at Nathaniel. "Aren't you going to chase her?" He shook his head.

I asked again, "Don't love her anymore?" Nathaniel stiffened. His jaw ticked—likely shocked that I knew about Kennedy's existence, or rattled by my eerie calm.

But he shook his head again. "I stopped loving her a long time ago." The words sounded firm. But his gaze darted away, refusing to anchor on mine.

I pressed my lips into a thin line. A strange, metallic taste pooled in the back of my throat. Knowing someone this well was its own kind of curse.

Because right now, I knew Nathaniel was lying through his teeth. He wanted to chase her. And he still loved her.

After that night, the temperature between Nathaniel and me plummeted below zero. He stopped coming home every night. I saw him less than the paparazzi did.

Whenever I pressed him for answers, I hit a brick wall of brushedoff excuses and icy silence.

Until a mutual contact let it slip: Nathaniel had been spending all his time with Finn.

Taking him to theme parks, treating him to Michelinstarred dinners, and even throwing him a welcomehome party. It was grander than any event he ever threw for me.

Yet only three people were in attendance. Nathaniel, Kennedy, and their son. I showed up uninvited, lingering in the shadows.

A few yards away, Nathaniel held Finn in his arms, his eyes soft and entirely devoted as he watched the boy blow out his candles. Kennedy stood right by his shoulder.

The three of them painted the perfect picture of a real, complete family. I felt like an invisible trespasser spying on someone else's perfect life all over again.

But on paper, I was supposed to be his wife. Chapter 3 A sharp gasp pierced the air. "Isn't that Nathaniel? Who's the kid next to him? Wait, is that Kennedy?

When did she get back?" A paparazzi lunged out from the bushes, shouting at the top of his lungs, instantly drawing a crowd. "Holy crap, it is!

It's Kennedy and Nathaniel!" "I thought Nathaniel was married! Why does he have a kid with Kennedy? Did he cheat?" "That kid has to be at least five or six.

Nathaniel's only been married for four years. Hard to tell who the actual homewrecker is!" The mob swarmed them. Nathaniel's jaw clenched.

He shielded Finn in his arms while deflecting the barrage of microphones shoved in his face.

When a reporter screamed a question about the boy's identity, Nathaniel's jaw locked before he answered. "No comment." I watched him in dead silence.

I suddenly wondered what was going through his head during that microsecond of hesitation. Was he weighing whether to officially announce Finn's identity right then and there?

Even if dropping that bomb would turn me into the ultimate laughingstock of the city. Would Nathaniel even care? Probably not. A reporter spotted me. "Isn't that his wife?

Get her!" The mob pivoted, aiming their blinding camera lenses straight at me like weapons.

The questions sliced through the air, vicious and biting. "Gemma, did you know about your husband's affair with Kennedy?" "Who is the real mother of that child?" Someone shoved me hard from behind.

I crashed to the ground. Mud splattered across my white designer dress. My knees scraped against the jagged pavement, blood instantly welling up from the cuts.

All the color drained from my face as a sharp sting shot up my legs. Even the ruthless paparazzi flinched. "Stop pushing!

Back off, she fell!" The shout was loud enough to reach Nathaniel across the driveway. His brows pulled together, and he took a halfstep toward me.

But then the window of his SUV rolled down. Finn's pale little face appeared, and Kennedy leaned out, urgently whispering something to him. Nathaniel took one final look at me.

He got into the car. He drove away without looking back. The camera flashes went wild, freezing his heartless back in their glare.

I watched the Maybach pull away, feeling an agonizing, plunging cramp in my lower abdomen. I didn't cry. I just coldly memorized the license plate number.

The last shred of my illusion about him shattered. I would carve this debt out of him, with interest. My husband left me behind.

Ironically, the ones who protected me were a few complete strangers. A group of girls yelled at the paparazzi to back off and carefully helped me limp to a quiet corner.

I opened my mouth to thank them, but one of the girls suddenly went deathly pale. "Gemma—you're bleeding!" I froze.

I looked down, only then realizing my pristine white dress was completely soaked in dark red. Drop. Drop. Blood hit the concrete.

A vicious, tearing pain ripped through my lower abdomen. It suddenly hit me why I had come looking for Nathaniel today in the first place. I was pregnant. I had come to tell him.

But now, it seemed entirely pointless