Stormy Night Betrayal

Eight months pregnant, on a hurricane night, I accidentally slipped and fell.

A pool of dark red blood stained the floor beneath me.

In a desperate panic, I called my husband, Nathan. But his new assistant, Chloe, answered.

Oh, Mrs. Adler? Nathan is taking me for a spin on the mountain track. The wind is so loud, I can barely hear you!

Then, I heard Nathans laughing voice in the background.

"Tell her the mountain roads are blocked because of the storm. Im staying at the hilltop resort tonight."

At that exact moment, my babys heartbeat inside my womb grew weaker and weaker.

Biting my lip until it bled, I dialed 911 myself. On the emergency contact form, under marital status, I checked the box: Widowed.

Later, Nathan knelt in the pouring rain, holding the core code of the patent I had single-handedly developed, begging me to leave him a lifeline.

I looked at him coldly.

"Sorry, Nathan. The wind is too loud. I can't hear you."

The night the hurricane hit, the entire city was swallowed by a violent storm.

The massive floor-to-ceiling windows rattled under the fierce wind. Lightning ripped through the night sky, casting a deathly pale light over our empty mansion.

I was eight months pregnant, and my belly was so heavy that even moving was a struggle.

Nathan had promised to come home early tonight to be with me.

The weather channel had issued a Category 3 hurricane warning, and he knew I had been terrified of thunder since I was a child.

But by 10:00 PM, there was still no sign of him.

I went to close the window in the second-floor hallway. A sudden gust of wind blasted in, bringing the rain with it and instantly soaking the marble floor.

My foot slipped. My body lost balance, and I fell backward.

With a dull thud, my lower back slammed hard against the edge of the stairs. I tumbled down two steps.

Agonizing pain shot through me, like a rusty saw tearing my lower body in half.

I curled up on the cold floor, gasping for air, cold sweat instantly drenching my pajamas.

Instinctively, I touched my stomach. Sharp, violent contractions were ripping through me.

Then, a warm rush of liquid flowed down my thighs, quickly staining the white wool rug crimson.

It was blood. A terrifying amount of blood.

Panic seized me. With trembling fingers, I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Nathans number, leaving bloody smudges on the screen.

"Ring... Ring... Ring..."

Every second of the long ringing tone felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

Finally, the call connected.

But it wasnt Nathans voice. Instead, the roaring sound of car engines and the excited screams of a crowd blasted through the speaker.

"Hello? Mrs. Adler?"

A sweet, high-pitched female voice came through, dripping with smugness.

It was Chloe.

The intern Nathans company hired last month, who had quickly become his "personal assistant."

"Where is Nathan... put him on..."

I gritted my teeth, fighting through waves of tearing pain. My voice was so weak I could barely hear myself.

"Oh, Nathan is on the track right now!" Chloe chirped. "The club booked the entire track tonight, and Nathan is the star of the show!"

Her cheerful voice felt like a poisoned blade plunging straight into my heart.

"My stomach hurts... I'm bleeding... Tell him to come home now..." I screamed into the phone with the last of my strength.

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then, I heard Nathans familiar voice, light and careless.

"Chloe, who are you talking to? Come over here, let me teach you how to drift."

Chloe giggled. "Its your wife! She says her stomach hurts or something..."

Nathans voice instantly turned cold, laced with heavy irritation.

"What is she throwing a tantrum for now? Didn't she just have an OB-GYN checkup this afternoon?"

"Tell her the mountain roads are closed because of the storm."

"Im staying at the resort on the summit tonight. Tell her to go to bed and stop overreacting over every little thing."

Chloe let out a soft laugh.

"You heard him, Mrs. Adler. Nathan cant make it back tonight."

"Honestly, its just a pregnancy. Why are you so fragile?"

"Nathan works so hard every day. He finally got a chance to relax. You shouldn't use the baby just to beg for his attention."

Beep

The line went dead.

The screen turned black, reflecting my ghost-white face.

Begging for attention?

I looked down at the pooling blood on the floor in utter despair. The movement in my belly was fading, as if the tiny life inside me was slowly slipping away.

Nathan, I am fighting for my life, and you think Im just playing games.

I bit my lip hard, forcing myself to stay conscious.

I couldn't die. My baby couldn't die.

With shaking hands, I dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance... I'm at 17 Seaview Drive..."

"Pregnant, eight months... slipped and bleeding heavily... Please, hurry..."

After hanging up, I called my mom.

Once that was done, my last bit of strength evaporated, and I plunged into complete darkness.

When I woke up again, the sharp smell of bleach filled my nose.

My vision slowly cleared, revealing the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room.

"Sloane? Sloane, youre awake?!"

My moms cracked, tearful voice echoed beside me.

I turned my head with difficulty. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hair a messy bird's nest. She looked like she had aged ten years overnight.

"Mom..." My throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper.

Instinctively, my hand went to my stomach.

It was flat. Completely empty.

A wave of terror gripped me, and I scrambled to sit up.

"My baby! Where is my baby?!"

The incision on my abdomen flared with a burning, tearing pain. I gasped, falling heavily back onto the pillows.

"Don't move! Sloane, don't move! You just had an emergency C-section!"

My mom rushed to gently hold me down, tears streaming down her face.

"The baby is alive. Its a boy. But because of the premature birth and your massive blood loss, he suffered severe oxygen deprivation. Hes in the NICU right now."

Hearing that my baby was alive, my frayed nerves finally relaxed. Tears poured from my eyes.

"You almost died..." Mom held my hand, her body shaking as she sobbed.

"The doctors said it was extremely dangerous last night. You lost so much blood. I was shaking so hard I could barely sign the consent forms."

"I called Nathan fifty times! Fifty times, Sloane!"

"He hung up on me every single time, and then he turned his phone off!"

Mom gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with pure rage and heartbreak.

"Where the hell was he?! His wife and child almost died, and he was nowhere to be found!"

I stared at the ceiling, my heart completely numb.

No anger, no grief. Just a freezing, hollow coldness creeping out from my bones, freezing every emotion I had left.

"He went racing," I said quietly, my voice like a faint whisper.

"What?" Mom froze.

"The roads were closed. He stayed at the resort on the mountain with his assistant."

I closed my eyes. Chloe's giggles and Nathan's annoyed 'stop overreacting' played on a loop in my mind.

We had been together for five years, married for three.

We used to be the couple everyone envied.

When Nathan first started his tech company and his funding was cut off, I stayed up for weeks, writing the core algorithm that secured his very first multi-million-dollar investment.

Back then, we lived in a tiny studio apartment under 300 square feet. He would put the only egg in our ramen into my bowl, his eyes red as he promised:

"Sloane, when I make it, Ill give you and our children the best life in the world."

Eventually, the company grew, and he got busier.

And then, Chloe showed up.

She was a fresh college graduate, radiating a kind of clueless innocence and a total lack of boundaries.

She would bring Nathan warm honey water during board meetings.

She would naturally slide into his passenger seat on rainy days, asking him to drive her home.

When I confronted Nathan about it, he called me unreasonable.

"Sloane, why are you so insecure and paranoid lately?"

"Chloe just graduated. She doesn't know anything. What's wrong with me mentoring her as her boss?"

"You didn't use to be like this. You're acting like a bitter housewife."

A bitter housewife.

So, after I gave up my career and stepped back to focus on a difficult pregnancy, I had become nothing but a bitter housewife in his eyes.

I slowly opened my eyes and looked at my phone on the nightstand.

The screen lit up with several unread text messages.

All from Nathan.

The storm was crazy last night. There was no signal on the mountain, and my phone died.

What was your problem last night?

Chloe was just giving me a work update. Did you really have to call and scream at her?

The company has a massive pitch meeting today. Ill come check on you tonight.

Just rest at home and stop making up scenarios in your head.

Looking at the cold text, I felt a sudden, hysterical urge to laugh.

He didn't even know I wasn't at home.

He had no idea his wife had just crossed the gates of hell, or that his newborn son was currently hooked up to tubes in an incubator.

I didn't reply. I simply blocked his number.

Then, I looked at my mom.

"Mom, hire a private nurse for me."

"And go to the hospital admin. Update my emergency contact. Remove Nathan. You are my only contact."

"For the baby's birth certificate... leave the father's section blank."

On the second day after my C-section, I finally managed to drag myself out of bed with my mom's help.

The incision burned like fire. Every step felt like walking on glass.

But I had to see my baby.

My mom pushed me in a wheelchair to the NICU doors.

Through the thick glass, I saw my son.

He was so tiny, so fragile. His skin was bright red, and he looked like a helpless little kitten.

There was a breathing tube in his nose, an IV in his tiny arm, and his little chest rose and fell with a struggle.

The label on the incubator read: Baby Boy of Sloane Adler.

The space for the father's name was completely blank.

Tears poured down my face. I pressed my palm against the glass, wishing I could feel his warmth.

I'm so sorry, sweetie. Mommy didn't protect you... I whispered in my heart.

Ping.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I wiped my tears and pulled it out. It was a notification from Instagram. Chloe had posted a new update.

It was a photo of a lavish French dinner at the most exclusive revolving restaurant in the city.

In the corner of the frame, a man's hand was visible, wearing the limited-edition Patek Philippe watch I had gifted Nathan.

The caption read: The best dinner after the storm. Thank you for the treat, Boss Nathan.

P.S. I was too scared of the thunder on the mountain last night to sleep, but having him around makes me feel so safe.

She added a playful winking emoji at the end.

Staring at the photo, my stomach churned with intense disgust.

So, this was the "massive pitch meeting" Nathan had to attend. He was treating Chloe to French cuisine.

While he enjoyed fine wine and steak, basking in the adoration of a young girl, I was sitting in a hospital smelling of bleach, watching our premature son fight for his life.

Five years of devotion. It was all a pathetic joke.

Just then, a nurse walked over with a stack of bills.

"Ms. Adler, we have the daily bill for the NICU."

"Since we used a specialized, non-insurance-covered drug to help his lungs mature, the cost is quite high. You need to pay an out-of-pocket deposit of $50,000 at the billing department."

My mom took the slip, her face falling.

The emergency surgery and initial deposit had wiped out her savings.

Most of my money was tied up in long-term investments, and my checking account didn't have much liquid cash left.

"Sloane... should I call Nathan? Its his baby too..." Mom suggested hesitantly.

"No," I cut her off coldly.

I unlocked my phone and dialed Julian, my former college mentor and the managing partner of a top venture capital firm.

"Sloane?" Julians deep, steady voice came through.

"Julian, sorry to bother you," I said, keeping my voice as calm as possible. "I had an emergency delivery. Im in the hospital."

"Im ready to license the core patent for my new battery technology to your firm under my personal LLC. But I need an immediate advance on the royalties."

Silence fell over the line for two seconds. Then, Julians voice turned incredibly serious.

"What happened? Which hospital are you in? Ill have my team wire the funds immediately."

In less than ten minutes, my phone chimed. A wire transfer of $500,000 had hit my account.

I handed the phone to my mom.

"Mom, go pay the bill. From now on, the baby and I have absolutely nothing to do with Nathan."

My mom saw the sheer determination in my eyes, sighed, and walked toward the billing department.

I sat in my wheelchair, staring at my son through the glass. My gaze turned cold and sharp.

Nathan, you will pay back everything you owe me. With interest.