Not Meant to Be

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When John Vaughn went bankrupt, I ran off to America with a wealthy man.

When we met again, he was a titan in the business world, with a beautiful fiance by his side.

At a party, everyone heard about my past deeds and egged each other on to bid for a night with me. John, with an indifferent expression, said in a cold voice:

"Gentlemen, aren't you worried about germs? This woman's womb probably holds the ashes of countless bastards."

As his words fell, the room erupted in laughter. Rich heirs splashed their icy drinks on me. I instinctively shielded my belly.

He didn't know that I left him that year because I had uterine cancer.

Seeing me shield my belly, Johns brows instinctively furrowed, and a complex emotion flickered in his eyes.

But it was only for an instant, quickly returning to normal.

I sat on the floor, disheveled, as everyone sneered:

"She is carrying a bastard!"

"I saw Ms. Winslow at the gynecology clinic last month!"

"My friends in America also said Ms. Winslow frequently visited obstetrics and gynecology. If you gentlemen aren't afraid of germs, feel free to continue bidding. I, Mr. Preston, am out!"

"Turns out she's that dirty! I wouldn't take her even if she was free."

They cast disdainful glances at me. I looked at the man sitting in the center, silent, and a bitter ache rose in my heart.

"I have a great idea! Who wants to see a pregnant woman strip dance?"

From the booth, someone first suggested it, and everyone cheered. One of John's friends spoke up:

"Ms. Winslow, please? If you don't dance today, I'm afraid you won't be leaving this private room."

He was John's best friend, and he always resented what I had done. The young gentlemen, seeing him speak, egged me on, and some even came to tear at my clothes.

Just as a patch of pale flesh on my chest was about to be exposed, John's cold, deep voice came from above:

"Enough!"

Johns tone carried a hint of anger, and those men immediately let go of me.

"Get her out!"

The club manager immediately offered John a placating smile, then dragged me out.

After chemotherapy, my once thick long hair had become sparse. Being dragged like that hurt, and I couldn't help but cry out in pain.

John's fingertips, gripping his wine glass, turned white, but he closed his eyes, refusing to look at me.

As I cleaned the wine stains in the restroom, footsteps sounded behind me.

Turning around, I saw a bright and charming woman with John.

I heard she was the one who helped John rise from the ashes, becoming a formidable force in the business world.

"Ms. Winslow, what a coincidence. It seems our John and Ms. Winslow truly have a destined connection. He just said he needed to come to the restroom to fix his tie, and here we run into you."

John's expression remained unchanged, but he affectionately stroked the back of the woman's hand, saying softly:

"Thank you, my fiance."

He deliberately emphasized those three words. The woman giggled as she straightened his tie.

Just then, a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, and I instinctively braced myself against the wall.

His right fist clenched, veins bulging, but he deliberately looked away as if trying to restrain something.

After a long moment, he looked back at me, a mocking smirk playing on his lips:

"Elara Vaughn, when you left me for money, did you ever imagine a day like this?"

I looked up, meeting his eyes, my thoughts swirling.

John and I spent five years building everything from scratch. Those five years were tough, but supporting each other, we were also very happy.

The change happened three years ago. John suddenly went bankrupt, and his mother was diagnosed with lung disease, needing a lung transplant.

We borrowed from everyone we knew, tried every possible method, and barely managed to scrape together the medical fees.

But misfortunes never come alone. Around the same time, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. Treatment would be another huge expense. At that moment, John was overwhelmed with his mother's situation. Unwilling to burden him further, I didn't tell him.

I knew that between his mother and me, only one could be saved.

His mother was incredibly kind to me, watching us grow together every step of the way. She would definitely choose to sacrifice herself to save me. And no matter who we saved, John would spend the rest of his life in regret.

At that time, an American tycoon took an interest in me, promising that if I went with him, he would take me back to America for the best treatment.

I agreed without a second thought.

But things didn't go as smoothly as planned. My uterine cancer, despite three years of treatment, had worsened. Now, I only had a few months left.

The doctor said that with aggressive treatment, I could extend my life by two more years.

I hesitated.

I knew deeply that if I agreed, I might never see John again in this lifetime.

Either way, I was going to die. Compared to death, I feared regret more.

So, I gave up the last treatment and hurriedly returned to the country.

But I never expected he would already have someone new by his side.

"I did."

Of course, I had thought about it.

Every time I underwent chemotherapy, I imagined him returning to his peak.

John scoffed and asked me:

"Do you regret it then?"

I shook my head. John's expression instantly turned incredibly dark.

"Do you love money that much?"

A metallic taste filled my throat, but I forced myself to say:

"Yes, money solves a lot of problems, doesn't it?"

I tilted my head up and saw a red mark on his neck, feeling a little disoriented.

There, once etched with my initials, it had now been completely removed by laser, leaving a deep scar.

The woman beside him, after straightening his tie, provocatively kissed his neck.

I suddenly felt that I shouldn't have come back.

He put his arm around the woman's waist, looking down at me from above, his gaze shifting to my lower abdomen.

"Whose child is it? The American's?"

His tone suddenly deepened, suppressing a surge of anger.

I said faintly:

"That's none of your business."

However, no sooner had the words left my mouth than a wave of discomfort washed over me. I pushed him away and rushed to the sink, vomiting.

His face tightened, a flicker of worry in his eyes, as he moved to help me.

But the woman beside him spoke up:

"Ms. Winslow, you don't need to worry, these are all normal reactions during pregnancy."

That one sentence seemed to remind John that the child in my belly was someone else's.

He immediately froze, and his gaze towards me grew even colder.

The woman walked forward with concern, stroking my back, then said as if casually:

"Ms. Winslow, where's your husband? He lets you work at a club while you're pregnant"

The atmosphere instantly fell silent. The woman continued:

"I really envy you. Unlike John, he won't let me do anything after we got together, saying he cares about me."

John dotingly ruffled her nose, his tone playfully:

"You, you, you talk as if I've mistreated you."

The woman pouted playfully:

"You won't let me do this, won't let me do that! What I'm saying is just the truth!"

The two chuckled and walked away, leaving me disheveled in the same spot.

I suddenly remembered that during those five years, John treated me the same way.

He always took on all the chores and work by himself because he cared for me, sometimes staying up until two or three in the morning at his computer, coding and checking ledgers.

John hasn't changed at all.

He's still so good at loving, just not loving me.

That evening, the manager told me that a lady had taken a liking to me and wanted to hire me as her assistant.

I probably guessed who it was, so when I saw John, I wasn't surprised.

"Who let you in?"

One second John was gently pinching Maya Sterling's cheek with a smile, the next, his gaze towards me turned utterly cold.

I lowered my head, adopting a submissive posture:

"Ms. Sterling asked me to come."

John seemed surprised.

"Maya?"

He looked at Maya Sterling, who gave a bright smile and wrapped her arms around John's arm, coquettishly:

"Oh, John, look at you, you've scared Ms. Winslow! Yes, I asked her to come. I saw Ms. Winslow is pregnant, and working at the club long-term isn't a solution. I just happen to need an assistant. So"

John's expression immediately softened at her words:

"My little angel is always so kind, even to a woman like this."

Maya Sterling suddenly seemed to remember something, her face changing color as she apologized to John:

"I'm sorry, John. I was thoughtless. After all, she hurt you before, and I brought her along"

John stroked her head with a hint of helplessness:

"You don't need to apologize to me. The past is the past. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have met you. In fact, I should thank her."

John embraced her as if she were a precious treasure. Maya Sterling's delicate nails intimately traced his arm, displaying a triumphant smile as if asserting dominance, her mockery undisguised.

I watched the dazzling scene, silently retreating from the room.

Hearing the door close, John's body stiffened, and he suddenly let go of Maya Sterling.

"John, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Aren't you going to change your shoes? Call Elara Vaughn in."

Maya Sterling looked surprised:

"Isn't that a bit much?"

John's cold brows arched sharply:

"What's wrong with it? It's her job."

I was called in to help Maya Sterling change her clothes and shoes.

John waited outside the door. As he brushed past me, he gave me a complex glance. I pretended not to see it and walked straight into the room.

As soon as John left, Maya Sterling mercilessly stepped on the back of my hand, saying viciously:

"How dare these hands ever touch him!"

Her ten-centimeter high heel dug a deep indentation into the back of my hand, and blood began to flow. Just as I was about to cry out in pain, she clapped a hand over my mouth and delivered a heavy kick to my lower abdomen.

I fell to the floor. Outside the door, John heard the commotion and asked anxiously:

"Maya! What happened in there?"

Maya Sterling pulled out an X-Acto knife, slashed fiercely at her arm, and cried out in pain.

John burst through the door with almost no hesitation, but his eyes instinctively darted towards me. When he saw the blood pooling on the floor, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes. He was about to reach out to help me up when Maya Sterling burst into tears:

"Ms. Winslow, we have no quarrel, why are you doing this to me?"

John's body stiffened. He glanced at the X-Acto knife by my hand, his eyes filled with disappointment.

He then picked up Maya Sterling in his arms, saying nervously:

"Call a doctor immediately!"

Without John's permission, no doctor dared to treat my wounds. I endured the searing pain and said:

"John... help me..."

At that address, he visibly froze, his pupils suddenly widening, but quickly returning to calm.

"You have no right to call me John."

"And no right to ask for help."

I tugged at his cold coat sleeve, weakly saying:

"John... believe me, I didn't hurt her..."

His brow furrowed slightly, and he forcefully shook off my hand.

"I saw it with my own eyes! And you still try to argue! You're as disgusting as you were three years ago!"

Due to the sudden movement, my wound was pulled, and the bleeding worsened. Coupled with the sharp pain in my lower abdomen, tears flowed uncontrollably.

He paused, but then seeing me clutching my belly, he suddenly became clear-headed.

"Ms. Winslow should be careful. If you keep acting like this, the bastard in your belly might not make it."

With that, he left, carrying Maya Sterling.