My Composure After Divorce Became His Greatest Torment Chapter 08
The doctor didn’t rush me. She simply pushed the consent form aside.
I lowered my eyes to my stomach and, for the first time, truly imagined what this child’s life would be if he were born.
Nathan would take him from my arms and carry him into that nursery, the one with C.A. on the wall. Caroline would choose his clothes, his schools, and play the part of the loving mother in public.
But in her eyes, he would never be a person. He would be a patch for her own infertility, a prop heir to secure her position as Mrs. Prescott.
Would Nathan love him?
Perhaps.
But that love would be tangled up with duty, with guilt toward Caroline—with everything but pure, simple fatherly love.
He would grow up inside a lie, never knowing his birth was a transaction, never understanding why his real mother had simply vanished.
And when he was older, if he ever found the custody agreement, if he learned how his father had planned to take him away and how his stepmother had been waiting to take my place—how would he look at them? How would he look at that family?
The answer was so clear it made me tremble.
He would be in unbearable pain.
I closed my eyes and placed the report back on the desk.
“Schedule the procedure. If this child is born, no one will love him for who he is.”