A Fabrication of Seven Years

In the seventh year of my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Quinn Summers, I quit my job without telling her and traveled more than six-hundred miles to Oceanton.

I only wanted to surprise her and ask her to marry me.

When the receptionist heard I was looking for Quinn, her expression slightly shifted. "Our CEO Ms. Summers is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment."

I was surprised. Quinn had never told me she had been promoted.

During our video call last week, she had even complained about how stressful work was and how far away a promotion felt.

When I turned around, I heard the receptionist whispering to her coworker. "So… This is the guy Ms. Summers is keeping on the side? Seriously, he has some nerve, coming all the way to the company."

"If Mr. Gomez finds out Ms. Summers is cheating during their marriage, this is going to be very bad."

I was about to turn back and tell them they had the wrong person. Quinn was not married, and I was her real boyfriend of ten years. But before I could speak, a man in a black suit walked in from the revolving door.

The receptionists immediately fell silent and greeted him with deep respect. "Mr. Gomez."

The man was on the phone, his voice low and gentle. "Honey, I'm downstairs. You must come with me to your prenatal checkup today!"

A clear female voice came through the phone, agonizingly sweet. "I know, honey. The meeting's almost over. Wait for me at the guest lounge."

I had listened to that voice for seven years. I knew it far too well.

It was my girlfriend, Quinn.

There was a soft thud as my backpack fell to the floor. When I crouched to pick it up, a prenatal report slipped out and fluttered down beside my foot.

It said the mother was twelve weeks pregnant. Under the "Mother's Name" bracket was Quinn's full name.

All this time, Quinn had told me she was busy and could only answer my calls once a week.

There was a time when Quinn finally agreed to a video call, and I saw a hickey on her neck.

"It's just a mosquito bite," Quinn explained at once. "Have you ever seen anyone else around me during all these years?"

I believed her. I even apologized and said I was being too suspicious. Now she had become someone else's wife. She was even carrying his child.

The man took the prenatal report from my hand and thanked me with a smile. When he saw me standing there, frozen, he asked, "Are you here to see Quinn too?"

I nodded.

"Then let's go up together. My wife always takes forever in meetings."

The words "my wife" hit me without warning, driving straight into my heart and leaving it bleeding.

In the guest lounge, the man finally introduced himself. His name was Hector Gomez, and he was also the head of the Gomez family based