And then he walked out.

A few hours later, my contractions started. I drove myself to the hospital, terrified, in pain, barely holding it together. My sister met me there, and I broke down in her arms. The nurses were kind, reassuring me through the fear. One of them leaned close and whispered, “Right now, all that matters is you and your baby.”

My son was born early the next morning.

As I stared at his tiny face, exhausted and hollow, one thought became painfully clear: Derek didn’t leave because he was overwhelmed. He left because he chose to.

That afternoon, I heard footsteps outside my hospital room.

Derek walked in as if nothing had happened. Fresh haircut. Confident posture. That familiar smugness on his face, like he still belonged there.

But he wasn’t alone.

A woman followed him inside—polished, elegant, expensive-looking. Designer coat. Perfect makeup. Eyes full of confidence.

She glanced at me, then turned to Derek and said calmly, “She’s my CEO.”

Everything froze.

Derek’s face drained of color. “That’s not funny,” he snapped.

The woman didn’t waver. “I’m not joking.”

Her name was Vanessa Hale—a name I recognized instantly. She had recently been featured in a business magazine as the new CFO of a fast-growing healthcare startup.