My Husband Chose Her Dogs Over Me

Chapter 1

I was in the middle of delivering twins—my second pregnancy—and it was anything but easy. Gasping for breath, I managed to call my husband Franco, the so-called "renowned gynecologist" who should've been holding my hand.

Instead of comfort, all I heard was frantic barking in the background.

His voice was ice cold. "I'm performing an emergency C-section on Leanna's dog. Eight puppies versus your two babies—do the math."

With a dismissive scoff, he added, "Seriously, you can't handle childbirth without me? Leanna's clinically depressed. If her dog dies, she might not make it either."

The line went dead before I could respond. He'd blocked my number.

Our young son Alec ran to beg his father to come help me, but Franco was too busy cradling that trembling dog, rushing it to the animal hospital. He shoved Alec aside without a second thought.

My boy fell hard, then chased after him in tears—right into the path of a speeding truck.

The delay in medical care cost my unborn twins their lives. The blood loss left me sterile. Three children gone in one horrific day.

When Franco finally saw the three urns and divorce papers, he completely lost it.

I'd just been wheeled into recovery when Franco burst in with Leanna clinging to him like a limpet.

"Jesus, Mara," he snarled, yanking my arm. "You're almost thirty—stop being so dramatic about childbirth! Did you really need me there that badly?"

His eyes dropped to my empty stomach. "Looks like you delivered naturally anyway. Quit the helpless act—I'm a doctor. Women bounce back from this all the time."

As he jerked me upright, my C-section stitches tore open. Through the white-hot pain, I whispered, "The babies...they didn't..."

Leanna burst into theatrical sobs. "This is all my fault! Maple needed emergency surgery—I had no one else to call!"

Franco immediately pulled her close. "Don't listen to her hysterics. Eight healthy puppies on Maple's first try—now that's impressive."

The knife twisted deeper when Leanna sniffled, "We actually came to ask for help...Maple isn't producing milk. With your elevated prolactin levels..."

I hurled my water glass at them. "GET OUT!"

Leanna collapsed against Franco. "If those puppies die, I'll kill myself!"

In that moment, I realized—to my husband, eight golden retriever puppies mattered more than our three dead children.