Leaving The Guy Who Loved Only Himself

After dating Scott Kenta for 10 years, I said to him, "Scott, I'm pregnant."

The file in his hands slipped and hit the floor. He frowned, clearly irritated.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "This is a critical moment—my company's going public. I never planned on having a child."

"It's fine. Your career matters more," I said, smiling gently.

He didn't catch the meaning behind my words.

I was pregnant, yes.

But he wasn't the father.

Scott Kenta's eyes no longer held the warmth they once did—just a cold, restless impatience, like I was some persistent problem he had grown tired of dealing with.

As I stood there, unmoving, he seemed to realize, if only briefly, that his words might have crossed a line. He cleared his throat and softened his tone slightly.

"You know how it is," he said. "If I don't have a stable career, how am I supposed to give you a good life? Be reasonable. We can't keep this child. And your health has always been fragile. A little jump, a cold shower, maybe the problem solves itself."

I stood frozen, unable to believe what I was hearing.

I always knew he could be cruel. But I never imagined he'd go this far. I really couldn't imagine if this were his child—his own flesh and blood. And yet he spoke as if it were trash, something to be thrown out without a second thought.

"Could you spare some time to come with me to the hospital?"

The bitterness rising in my chest was nearly unbearable, but I still clung to that last, flickering hope.

Smack.

He slammed the stack of documents on the desk, his patience clearly snapped.

"Alyssa, I thought I made myself clear. I'm busy. Don't bother me with something this trivial—handle it yourself."

Then, without looking at me, he picked up his phone and transferred me a sum of money.

"For your nutrition," he muttered.

I stared blankly at the screen. Four digits.

He had spent more than that on a handbag for Chloe Barney without blinking.

So that's what my child was worth in his eyes—less than a designer purse.

"Why are you so upset, Scott?"

Right then, as the silence twisted between us, Chloe pushed the door open and stepped in.

She walked over and gently massaged his shoulders from behind.

Neither of them seemed to care that I, the woman who'd been his girlfriend for ten years, was standing right there.

Everything began to unravel two years ago.

He'd been in a meeting when his phone rang. Without a word, he'd gotten up and rushed out.

I later found out it was her—Chloe, the woman he had idealized in silence for years—his long-lost first love, finally back in the country. Of course, he had to drop everything to welcome her back.

At the time, I didn't think much of it. Not until she became the company's Vice President.

I lost it. Confronted him. Demanded to know what their relationship was. He