I Died to Escape Him
Daisy Swift · Completed · 6.2k Words
Introduction
He hurried to my hospital bed, tears brimming in his eyes, vowing that we would have another baby—while his mistress was already sixteen weeks pregnant.
Thus, I granted him his wishes: a lamenting wife's performance, a fabricated death, and a clean escape.
Three months later, he crashed through the door, eyes frenzied, proclaiming he would set the world ablaze to earn my forgiveness.
Chapter 1
The day I lost my baby was the same day I found my husband kissing his pregnant mistress.
Sebastian rushed to the hospital the moment he heard I had miscarried.
"Baby, I'm so sorry." He gripped my hand, eyes red. "We'll have another one. I promise. As long as you're okay, nothing else matters."
Another one.
As if what we lost was something replaceable.
My heart felt torn open as I stared into his eyes—eyes that once made me feel safe, now nothing but a bottomless pit hiding secrets he would never confess.
If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed that the man who once saved me, who promised to love me for life, had gotten another woman pregnant.
Last night, Sebastian said he had an emergency to deal with, grabbed his coat, and rushed out the door.
He left so quickly that he forgot his phone on the table.
I was about to call after him when the screen lit up—a reminder for a prenatal appointment.
Vivienne Cross, sixteen-week checkup, tomorrow at 3 PM.
Vivienne. Sebastian's secretary.
Sixteen weeks pregnant.
And I was already six months along.
I stared at that notification, my heart squeezed so hard it felt like I couldn't breathe.
I followed Sebastian's car all the way to a luxury apartment complex downtown.
Through the floor to ceiling windows, I saw them.
Sebastian had her pinned against the wall, his hands under her thighs, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his waist.
His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, urgent and greedy.
She threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pressing herself closer to him.
His hands roamed all over her—movements so practiced they made me sick.
I don't remember how I drove home.
I parked in the garage, and the scene kept replaying in my mind like a punishment I couldn't escape.
Tears blurred everything.
What was our marriage?
And the child inside me—what did it mean to him?
A sharp pain ripped through my abdomen.
When I looked down, blood was already running down my legs, soaking the seat in a brutal shade of red.
"You need to eat something." Sebastian's gentle voice dragged me back to the present.
I turned my head away, unwilling to look at him.
"Celeste…" His voice softened even more, coaxing. "Just a little, okay? Baby?"
Then he leaned down and kissed my forehead.
Those lips had been on another woman only hours earlier.
The image of him kissing Vivienne flashed in my mind, and my stomach twisted again.
I shoved him away and doubled over, dry heaving. Nothing came up except the bitter burn of bile.
Sebastian held my hair back and wiped the corner of my mouth with a damp towel.
I looked up at him. His eyes were full of worry, sweat gathering at his brow, like he truly cared.
This man who tended to me so carefully, this husband who looked so concerned—
"Sebastian." My voice came out cracked. "Where were you? Before I… before I lost the baby?"
He froze, caught off guard.
I inhaled deeply, nails digging into my palm.
In my head, one thought repeated itself:
If he tells the truth, I'll give him one more chance.
The last one.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and muttered something about urgent business at the company.
A second later, he was already on his feet, grabbing his coat and walking out of the room.
I closed my eyes.
I didn't need a confession.
The timing matched Vivienne's prenatal appointment perfectly.
Not long after he left, my phone vibrated.
A message from Vivienne.
Sebastian was kneeling in front of her, pressing a gentle kiss to her stomach.
She looked down at him with open triumph on her face.
My chest tightened, cold and heavy.
I dialed my brother Liam.
"Liam, I need you to arrange a medical accident that looks like a complication."
After hanging up, I insisted on being discharged.
Back home, I walked into the nursery—the room we painted together, the room that was supposed to welcome our son.
The tiny clothes we had picked out lay folded in perfect rows. I touched the little bear onesie, the first thing we ever bought for him.
My vision blurred as I carried everything to the fireplace.
One by one, I threw the clothes into the flames.
Soft cotton curled and blackened, the tiny buttons melting as fire consumed every trace of the life we never got to hold.
I didn't sob.
Tears just streamed down without sound.
When I finished, I went to Sebastian's study.
I opened the safe and placed every piece of jewelry he'd ever given me inside—pink diamonds, custom bracelets, the necklace he clasped around my neck on my birthday.
I left them all.
They belonged to the version of me who believed him.
Not the woman standing here now, watching her world burn to ash.
My phone buzzed again.
A message from Liam.
"Surgery confirmed. Three days. All arrangements in place."
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