“I was just keeping a promise I made to Shalane back then. There’s nothing more to it. They are out of responsibility, not out of love! Why are you being so jealous over something that doesn’t even matter?”
His voice was calm, almost resigned as if I were the unreasonable one.
But to me, it was bitter beyond words.
All these years, my patience and understanding had only made him feel entitled to disregard our marriage.
For a moment, I closed my eyes.
Twenty years ago, back in college, I was falsely accused, bullied, and cast out. Brent was the one who stood up for me, and from that moment on, I fell for the noble, righteous man he was.
I thought we were destined to remain parallel lines, close but never crossing.
But a year after graduation, his family’s business was on the verge of collapse. His stepbrother had colluded with a conman, forging contracts and stealing assets.
As Ceppetelli Co. collapsed, I didn’t even think twice—I quit my job and threw myself into saving his family’s company.
For years, Brent and I ran around begging for investors, swallowing our pride, drinking glass after glass just to secure deals.
It took five grueling years, but we finally brought Ceppetelli Co. back to life.
On our wedding night, he told me he never wanted children—his step-brother’s betrayal had scarred him too deeply. Without hesitation, I got my tubes tied.
A year later, when our parents started pressuring us for kids, I stood firm. I let them believe I was infertile, even showing them a medical diagnosis.
From that moment on, they forced endless herbal remedies and supplements on me.
One night, as I forced myself to swallow yet another bitter cup of tonic, Brent pulled me into his arms, his voice full of concern.
“Cammie, I should tell them the truth before this harms you.”
I looked up at him intently.
“Are you sure you can handle the pressure? Not wanting kids and not being able to have them aren’t the same thing.
“No matter what you decide, I’ll support you.”
Brent hesitated.
Back then, I told him that if he ever stopped being afraid—if he truly wanted a child—I’d go through surgery again so we could have our own baby.
And he agreed.
Ten years ago, his parents suddenly stopped pushing us. His mother stopped rolling her eyes at me and stopped forcing me to take meds.
They moved to London to enjoy their retirement, leaving the family villa to Brent and me.