He Thought I Cheated, Beat Me Until I Lost Our Baby, Then Learned It Was His

Chapter 3

The whip cracked against my mom's back, but she barely flinched. Instead, she turned to face Connor, her voice calm despite the pain.

"Connor, you've misunderstood Emma. Don't do this. Let's sit down and talk. If you keep going like this, you'll regret it."

"Regret?" Connor sneered. "I regret not doing this sooner. I should've slapped her the second I saw that prenatal report."

His eyes burned with fury as he pointed at my mother. "And you! Always telling me to be patient with her. Why didn't you teach your daughter how to be a proper wife?"

"Today, I'm delivering justice."

He raised the whip again and lashed out, over and over.

My mom, terrified he'd turn on me next, pulled me into her arms, shielding me with her body. She took every blow without fighting back, her cries slicing through my heart.

I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Please, Connor, stop! I'm begging you!" I dropped to my knees. "I swear, I've never been with another man. Please, for the sake of our marriage, stop hurting my mom. She can't take this."

But my pleas fell on deaf ears.

Connor scoffed. "Our marriage? Haven't I been good to you? You couldn't give me a child, and did I ever pressure you? Even when my mom told me to divorce you, I refused! And how do you repay me?"

He struck again.

I felt my mom's grip weaken.

Finally, Connor stopped. My mom slumped forward like a rag doll.

Panicked, I touched her back, my fingers came away slick with blood.

Tears blurred my vision. "Mom! Mom, wake up! Please!"

She wasn't moving.

No matter how I called her name, she didn't respond.

Connor's expression faltered. He reached out, checking her breathing. A moment later, he exhaled in relief.

"She's still alive."

He scooped her up and dropped her onto the couch like a discarded toy.

My eyes darted to my bag on the coffee table, I needed my phone.

I ran for it, but Connor was faster. He snatched it from my hands.

"Who the hell are you calling? Mark? I told you, he's too busy to save you now."

"I'm calling 911! My mom needs a hospital!"

"No!"

With a furious yell, he threw my phone to the floor. It shattered into pieces.

He turned back to me, eyes blazing. "You just want to call your lover, don't you?"

Tears streamed down my face. "Connor, you're insane."

I swung my hand and slapped him as hard as I could.

The moment my palm connected with his cheek, his rage exploded.

"You dare hit me, you bitch?" he roared.

He lifted his foot and aimed for my stomach.

I barely had time to react. My hands shot up, shielding my belly.

The kick landed on my hands instead, sending shockwaves of pain up my arms.

Connor snapped.

"You're protecting that child? I loved you, and this is how you repay me, carrying another man's baby?"

He kicked again. And again. Each impact sent fresh agony through my fingers and wrists, like my bones were about to snap.

"Stop! You'll kill her!" A neighbor's voice rang out from outside. "Enough!"

Connor grabbed an ashtray from the table and hurled it toward the old man. "Mind your own damn business!"

The other neighbors scattered, unwilling to step in.

Connor turned back to me, eyes dark with hatred.

"Emma, out of all the men in the world, you had to pick Mark? You know how much I hate him!"

His hands clenched into fists as his body trembled with rage.

Mark and Connor had been college classmates, once friends, now enemies. Back then, Mark had treated Connor like his personal lackey, forcing him to buy food, spreading rumors about him, even sabotaging his final exam. The worst part? Mark had stolen Connor's thesis and claimed it as his own. And to add insult to injury, he often taunted Connor, calling himself Connor's "father."

Connor's real father had died young. The word "father" was a sore spot for him. No matter how many times he begged Mark to stop, the taunts never ended.

On graduation day, they fought.

No one expected that, three years later, Mark would become Connor's boss.

Connor had spent every workday since bowing and scraping to the man he despised most.

I understood his anger.

But if he hated Mark so much, why was he taking it out on me?

Because I was weaker? Because I couldn't fight back?

For the first time, I saw Connor for what he truly was, a coward who only bullied those who couldn't hurt him back.

My hands trembled from pain, barely able to support my weight.

I looked up at him and whispered, "Connor, if this child is actually yours... and you make me lose it... will you regret it?"

His face twisted in rage. "That's impossible. I'll tell you the truth, I got tested four years ago. My sperm count is too low. I can't have kids."

I froze.

My mind reeled. All these years, I had blamed myself, believing I was the problem. Connor let me suffer under Pamela's scrutiny, drinking her disgusting "tonics" made from cockroaches and centipedes. I had nearly died from food poisoning once.

And all this time, he knew.

He let me take the blame. He let his mother torture me. He never said a word.

He never loved me.

I was done.

I dropped my hands.

Connor's foot slammed into my stomach.

A searing pain tore through me, and I felt warmth spreading between my legs.

At that exact moment, Connor's phone rang.

He answered without thinking, putting the call on speaker.

"Mr. Caldwell, the paternity test results are in. The child in Ms. Sinclair's womb is indeed yours."

Silence.

Connor stood frozen, phone in hand, his face drained of color.

He looked at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

"That... That's not possible..."