Part 1My Stepson Caused My Miscarriage, So I Chose Divorce

When my stepson pushed me down the stairs, Garrett’s immediate reaction was to cover the little monster’s eyes and scream at me.

"Have you lost your mind? Hurting yourself just to frame my son?"

Seeing me curled on the floor in agony, he threw out another line: "That is enough! If this baby is gone, we can always have another. We can have countless children, but I only have one Danny! Stop being so dramatic!"

Even as the blood began to pool beneath me, staining the hardwood, he was still murmuring comforts to his son, telling him not to be afraid.

Through the gaps in Garrett’s fingers, I saw the chilling, triumphant smirk on my stepson’s face.

This was the third child he had managed to destroy.

By the time the man finally noticed the deep red pool expanding across the floor, panicking as he tried to lift me, my heart had already turned to ash.

On the stretcher to the ambulance, I pulled off the oxygen mask and looked at him with absolute calm. "Garrett, I want a divorce."

…

The moment I fell down the stairs, my instincts took over, and I wrapped my arms tightly around my swollen stomach.

The pain was immediate, a sharp, tearing sensation that soaked my dress and left a bright trail of blood on the floor.

"Clair!"

A desperate cry rang out. Garrett rushed toward me, his knees slamming hard against the floor, but he didn't seem to notice.

His hands shook as he reached for me, terrified to touch me. The usually composed, commanding CEO was weeping, his tears falling onto my face.

"Don't worry, don't worry... the ambulance is on its way... Clair, please hold on..."

Gathering my remaining strength, I grabbed his sleeve, pointing toward the top of the landing. "It was Danny... he pushed me... he did it on purpose..."

Garrett froze. He slowly turned his head to look at his eight-year-old son, Danny, who was shrinking into the corner of the landing, sobbing as if he were the one traumatized by the blood.

"Daddy... I am scared... there is so much blood..." Danny whimpered.

The conflict in Garrett's eyes lasted only a fraction of a second.

The next moment, he pulled the boy into his arms, using his hand to shield Danny's eyes from the scene. When he looked back at me, his gaze was filled with pleading.

"Clair, you are in too much pain. You are hallucinating."

He wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, his voice hurried and tense. "Danny is only eight years old. He is terrified. It was just a tragic accident!"

"An accident?" I whispered, my body shaking from the physical pain, though my chest felt even colder.

The first time, it was a bottle of lubricant left directly outside the bathroom door.

The second time, it was a high dose of laxatives mixed into my morning milk.

This was the third time.

Garrett continued to ramble, trying to convince me, or perhaps trying to convince himself. "I know you are hurting, and I am devastated about the baby too... but Danny is my only son. He has had a difficult life since his mother passed. As the adult, can't you be more understanding?"

More understanding?

At the cost of my unborn children's lives?

As Garrett leaned down to kiss my forehead, attempting to quiet my protests, Danny looked at me through the gaps of his father’s fingers.

His tear-streaked face held no trace of fear. He grinned, his lips moving silently to form three words: Go to hell.

In that moment, I finally accepted the truth.

Some people are born wicked, and some people choose to remain blind. Garrett's love was too crowded, trying to accommodate the role of a devoted husband while protecting his monstrous son, and my children were the ones sacrificed to keep the peace.

As they lifted me into the ambulance, Garrett clutched my freezing hand, his voice hoarse from crying. "Clair, don't close your eyes, please... we can have other children, I will make this up to you, but Danny is my only boy..."

With his other hand, he gently patted Danny's back, whispering, "Don't be scared, buddy. Daddy is right here."

The suffocating hypocrisy finally snapped my last nerve. I reached up and ripped the oxygen mask off my face.

The medical monitors began to beep frantically.

Garrett stared at me in terror. "Clair, what are you doing? Doctor! Help her!"

I looked at the man I had loved for seven years, my voice barely a whisper. "Garrett, I want a divorce."