Pregnant, Then Betrayed by Fiancé

My phone buzzed with a notification, the screen lighting up with a social media alert. Normally, I'd ignore it during my lunch break, but the preview caught my eye—Travis's name alongside some congratulatory comments. Curious, I tapped on the notification, and my world collapsed in an instant.

There he was—Travis Webb, my fiancé of five years—down on one knee at La Maison Rouge, the city's most romantic restaurant. The diamond ring in his hand caught the candlelight, sparkling almost as brightly as Fiona Turner's eyes as she covered her mouth in theatrical surprise.

"Fiona Turner, you've been my dream since we were children," Travis's voice came through clearly in the video. "I promise to love you forever, to give you the life we always talked about. Will you marry me?"

My hands trembled so violently I nearly dropped my phone. The comments beneath the video blurred through my tears:

*Congratulations to power couple Travis Webb and Fiona Turner! #RelationshipGoals*

*The business mogul's fairy-tale proposal is EVERYTHING! 😍*

*They look perfect together! So happy for them both!*

I watched the video three times, hoping desperately that I was hallucinating. But each replay only drove the knife deeper. Travis—the man I'd supported through everything, the man whose company I'd saved with my own $3 million investment, the man I'd loved through every late night and business crisis—was proposing to another woman.

Without thinking, I grabbed my purse and practically ran from the restaurant, ignoring concerned looks from fellow diners. Twenty minutes later, I burst through the doors of Webb Enterprises, bypassing Travis's startled assistant with nothing but a cold glare.

I threw open his office door without knocking. Travis looked up from his laptop, his expression shifting from annoyance to recognition to something unreadable when he saw my face.

"Eli? What's wrong? I thought we were meeting for dinner tonight."

I threw my phone onto his mahogany desk. It skidded across the polished surface, coming to rest beside his monogrammed pen holder. The video was still playing, Fiona's squeals of delight now filling his spacious office.

"Explain this," I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper. "Explain why you're proposing to Fiona Turner when you've never once proposed to me in five years."

Travis barely glanced at the phone. Instead, he sighed and leaned back in his leather chair, as if I'd brought up a minor scheduling conflict rather than relationship-shattering betrayal.

"It's not what it looks like, Elianna," he said, his tone dismissive. "Fiona and I have history. She needed closure before moving on with her life. It was just to fulfill a childhood dream."

"A childhood dream?" I repeated, incredulous. "You proposed to another woman as a favor?"

"You're being unnecessarily dramatic." Travis turned back to his computer screen. "Nothing changes between us. You know where we stand."

"Where we stand?" My voice rose. "We stand nowhere, Travis. I've given you everything—my love, my support, my money. I helped build this company from nothing, and you've never once gotten down