Give Up Betrayer, Marry 3 Childhood Partners

I knew Cassian Vale was slipping away from me the moment his hand lingered on her growing belly.

We were at the Vale Holdings Winter Gala.

I was standing in the shadows of a marble pillar, entirely forgotten.

Cassian was in the center of the room, smiling softly. His hand rested intimately on Seraphina Wycliff’s stomach.

Seraphina was his childhood friend.

She was also the woman who had already given him a daughter, and was now two months pregnant with his second child.

A bitter, suffocating pain twisted in my chest as I watched them.

Cassian and I had been together for eight years.

I was a trauma surgeon. To his fiercely traditional, billionaire family, I was a nobody. A commoner with zero background.

They didn't know the truth.

They didn't know my roots were indigenous.

I am a Mosuo woman from the matriarchal houses of Skylark Bay. In my culture, women own the land.

We hold absolute power. Our children inherit the mother’s last name.

To me, Cassian was just a man. But I hid my immense family fortune because I wanted a pure, ordinary love.

In our early years, Cassian was my fiercest protector. He used to be ice-cold to Seraphina. When she first tried to pursue him, he threw her expensive gifts directly into the trash.

“I will give up my heir status before I give up Lark,” he told his father.

But his family refused to let him marry a "commoner." They forced a twisted compromise. Cassian could keep me, but only if he produced a pure-blooded male heir with Seraphina to secure their corporate alliance.

“Just one son, Lark,”* he had sworn to me back then, tears filling his eyes. “It’s a transaction. Once the boy is born, my debt is paid. We will spend the rest of our lives together.”

I loved him. So, I pushed down my pride and agreed to wait.

For the first year of their "arrangement," Cassian was miserable. Every time he came back from Seraphina’s bed, he looked disgusted.

He would walk straight into our bathroom, turn the water on scalding hot, and scrub his skin until it was raw.

“I hate every second of it,”* he used to whisper. *“I only pretend she is you.”

But fate was cruel. Their first child was a girl. His family demanded a son. So, the nightmare had to continue.

Over the years, I blindly counted the nights he spent in her bed.

One hundred and forty-six times.

And slowly, the terrifying shifts began.

He started taking quick rinses. Then, he didn't wash up at all.

When Seraphina announced her second pregnancy two weeks ago, Cassian wasn't just relieved.

He was ecstatic.

When she called him in the middle of the night complaining of nausea, he rushed to her side and stayed until morning.

Just like tonight.

I couldn't watch them play house anymore.

I turned around and walked out to the balcony at the top of the marble staircase to catch my breath.

The winter air bit at my skin. I gripped the stone railing.

I just needed to survive the next seven months.

"Running away from us, Lark?"

I stiffened. I turned around.

Seraphina stood in the doorway.

She had dropped her innocent disguise. Her eyes were full of triumph.

"What do you want, Seraphina?" I asked coldly.

She walked slowly toward me. "I just wanted to check on you. You look so pitiful standing in the dark."

"He's only doing this for the baby," I said, my voice tight. "Don't confuse a transaction with affection."

Seraphina let out a mocking laugh.

"A transaction?" She tilted her head. "Is that what he tells you? Lark, please. Wake up."

She took a step closer, lowering her voice maliciously. "He hasn't scrubbed his skin in years. Last night, he stayed in my bed for an extra hour just to talk to my belly. He told me he loves the way I feel in his arms. He doesn't pretend I am you anymore."

My breath hitched.

"You're lying," I choked out.

"Am I?" Seraphina smirked.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the staircase behind her. Cassian was coming.

In a fraction of a second, Seraphina’s smirk completely vanished.

"Let's see who he really cares about," she whispered.

Before I could process her words, Seraphina lunged forward.

She grabbed my wrist, digging her nails painfully into my skin.

Then, she violently threw herself backward.

"Ahhhh!"

Seraphina hit the sharp corner of the heavy patio table and collapsed onto the marble floor.

"Lark, please! Stop!" she screamed, curling into a ball and clutching her stomach. "My baby! Please don't hurt my baby!"

"Sera!"

Cassian rushed onto the balcony.

He froze. Seraphina was weeping on the floor.

I was standing over her, my arm still outstretched.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

Dark red blood began to pool on the white floor beneath Seraphina’s legs.

"Cassian!" Seraphina sobbed, her face deathly pale. "It hurts! She pushed me! She was so angry about our baby, she pushed me!"

Cassian’s face drained of all color. He sprinted across the balcony and dropped to his knees, frantically pressing his jacket against her bleeding body.

"Cassian, I didn't touch her!" I yelled, my professional instincts kicking in. I was a trauma surgeon. "Let me look at her. She might be hemorrhaging—"

"Don't you dare touch her!"

Cassian’s roar echoed into the night.

He slapped my hand away so hard that my wrist cracked against the stone pillar.

A sharp pain shot up my arm, but it was nothing compared to the violent glare in his eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Cassian snarled, his eyes bloodshot. "You tried to kill my child!"

"I didn't push her! She did it to herself!" I snapped back. "Look at the angle of the table, Cassian! Think logically!"

"Shut up!" Cassian screamed. He gathered Seraphina tightly into his arms. "I know you hate this arrangement. I know you're jealous. But you have turned into a monster."

My heart stopped.

A monster. The man who once fought for me was now looking at me like I was a murderer.

"If she loses this baby tonight, Lark," he said, his voice completely devoid of warmth. "I will never forgive you."

He didn't wait for my answer. He turned his back on me and rushed out, screaming for his driver.

I stood alone in the freezing wind, staring at the blood on the floor.