My Fiancé Planned to Give My Baby to His Ex as a Wedding Gift Novel – Freya’s POV For three years, Rowan Ashford and I had kept our relationship hidden. Everything changed the moment we discovered I was pregnant. For the first time ever, I saw a light in his eyes—he was so happy, he actually proposed. It felt like my patience had finally paid off. He loved me back. Or so I believed. But five months into the pregnancy, I dropped by his office to deliver some files—and walked straight into a nightmare.
There she was, perched on his lap, his hands roaming, his lips brushing against her neck. And then I heard him whisper: “Mara, once she gives birth, we’ll get married, okay? You’re the only one I want to spend my life with.” Amara Rossi was his ex. The same woman who’d left him years ago because she refused to have kids. Motherhood didn’t appeal to her—she’d rather be a stepmom than deal with pregnancy. And now it was all clear. Rowan had stayed with me not out of love, but out of convenience. I was the fool who’d do anything for him, even bear his child.
I was the perfect stand-in to carry his baby so he could have it all—a child and a future with the woman he never stopped loving. Ten years of loving him unconditionally hadn’t changed his heart. All it did was give him time to twist mine and use my body to get what he wanted. He could tear me apart, but not before I made two choices. One: Terminate the pregnancy. I won’t bring a child into this world for a bastard like him. Two: Vanish—and make damn sure he lives every day regretting the moment he lost me. I grabbed my phone and, without hesitation, booked the abortion.
Then I called the number I’d kept memorized for years. “You once said you’d marry me… Does that promise still stand?” “Of course.” By the time I ended the call, the sounds coming from the CEO’s office had finally died down. My hands were freezing as I turned around and slowly walked back toward the conference room. I forced myself into a chair, shuffling through paperwork and coordinating with my assistant—doing anything I could to distract myself from the nausea climbing up my throat.
I had no idea how long I sat there before the door finally opened. Rowan and Amara stepped out, one after the other. He had swapped his suit for another, but skipped changing his shirt. A faint lipstick mark still clung to the edge of his collar. Amara had redone her makeup, but her cheeks were still too flushed to hide what had happened.