She Called It IVF While Fucking Him on Our Wedding Bed

"Liam, there's something I need to tell you in advance."

The scent of roses hadn't yet faded from the honeymoon suite. Ella walked out of the dressing room in a wine-red silk robe, casually removing the diamond earrings from her ears. Her tone was as flat as if she were discussing tomorrow's breakfast.

"Lucas's family needs an heir. I've agreed to help him."

I felt the blood drain from my body as I froze on the edge of the bed.

"You... what?" My voice came out hoarse, like my throat was stuffed with broken glass.

Ella walked over, crouched down, and gently wrapped her hands around my cold fingers. Her eyes were still as clear as they had been ten years ago when we first met.

"It's not what you think. It's scientific—IVF." She spoke softly, her fingers stroking the back of my hand reassuringly. "My eggs and Lucas's sperm, combined in a lab. The embryo is transferred directly into my uterus. Medical procedure—there's no physical contact between us at all."

I stared at her delicate face, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach.

"Ella, this is our wedding night!" I pulled my hand back sharply, my chest heaving. "You just swore vows to me in a wedding dress, and now you're telling me you're going to carry another man's child?"

"I know this is hard to accept!" Ella's eyes reddened instantly, her voice rising an octave.

She stood up, looking down at me, tears welling in her eyes. "But his family saved mine! Ten years ago, my father's company was on the verge of bankruptcy. The Grays threw money in to pull it back. That debt has been hanging over us for too long!"

She took a deep breath, tears dropping onto the carpet. "Lucas's mother's health can't hold out any longer. Her only dying wish is to see the Gray family have an heir. She did so much for the Summers. This is the only thing I can give back."

I gritted my teeth so hard I tasted blood.

What was this? Paying back her parents' debt with my marriage, with my wife's womb?

"The baby will belong to the Gray family, their surname, legally nothing to do with us!" Ella crouched down again, cupping my face, her warm tears smearing across my cheeks. "I'm healthy—one more child won't hurt me. Once this is over, we'll be even with the Grays. After that, we can have as many as you want, okay?"

"What if I say no?" I looked into her eyes, asking each word deliberately.

Ella's movements froze. She slowly lowered her head, avoiding my gaze, her voice soft as a blunt blade: "Then... the Grays might take back the resources they gave us. You know my father is still sitting on the board."

Threat.

My lover of ten years, on our wedding night, using her father's lifeline to force my compliance.

I closed my eyes as the blood in my veins turned cold, inch by inch.

Deep in my mind, a memory from ten years ago surfaced. Locked in an abandoned music room in subzero temperatures by wealthy bullies, my body turning purple with cold, believing I would die there. It was Ella who smashed the window, her hands bloody, pulling me out.

The hand that had pulled me out of hell was now pushing me into another abyss.

Maybe this was the moment I had to repay the life I owed her—with my dignity.

"Fine." I heard a broken syllable force its way out of my throat.

"Thank you! I love you!" Ella's tears turned to laughter. She kissed me hard on the lips.

That kiss felt like ice against my mouth. That night, I didn't touch her. I turned over, my back to her, staring at the darkness beyond the floor-to-ceiling window.

At 3 AM, the phone on the nightstand buzzed, shattering the silence.

I heard Ella grab it, covering the speaker as she whispered: "Don't worry, I'm on my way."

Then the rustle of clothes, the soft click of the door lock. Ten minutes later, the roar of a sports car engine faded into the distance.

Every sound felt like tank treads grinding over my spine.

When I woke the next morning, the sheets beside me were cold as ice.

I packed my things alone and headed to Kennedy Airport. The flight to the Maldives was at 2 PM.

The boarding announcement repeated over the intercom. I sat on the cold metal chair, staring at the three texts I'd sent: "When are you coming back?" "Boarding soon." "Where are you?"

Beneath each one, two stark gray words: Read.

No reply.

"Passengers on this flight, this is the final boarding call—"

Just then, my phone screen lit up. Not a text—a special notification from Instagram.

Lucas had posted.

Location: Summers Manor.

No faces in the image—just two champagne glasses touching. One hand was slender and pale, its nails painted a wine-red color—the shade Ella had gotten done just before the wedding, to match her reception dress.

While our honeymoon flight was about to take off, my wife was raising a glass in another man's home.

I didn't board. Like a hollowed-out ghost, I dragged my suitcase back to our apartment in New York.

Pushing open the living room door, the air was dead.

I walked to the sofa and froze. In the center of the coffee table lay an opened brown paper envelope.

I walked over, my fingers trembling as I pulled out the documents.

Embryo Transfer Authorization Form.

In the beneficiary column, clearly written: Lucas Gray.

And in the marital status field: [Unmarried].

My gaze slowly slid down to the approval date stamped at the bottom.

That was three months ago.

Three months ago, we were tasting wedding cakes and picking invitation designs. And she had already signed the contract to sell her womb.

She hadn't been forced into this last minute. She had planned everything all along—she just chose to tell me on our wedding night.

I stared at the red stamp, my vision blurring. My nails dug deep into my palm; blood dripped through my fingers onto the word "Unmarried."

I folded the documents carefully and tucked them into the bottom of a drawer.

I told myself to stay calm.

I had agreed. I owed her my life. I couldn't go back on my word. Even if it meant being torn apart, I had to endure it.