
For two years, I was the perfect, understanding wife to billionaire Atticus Hawthorne. And for two years, I was always his second choice. Anniversaries, holidays, emergencies—all it took was one fake tear from his ex-wife, Savannah, and Atticus would abandon me. "Lily needs her father. Be understanding, Juniper," he’d always say, expecting me to quietly accept the crumbs of his affection. But when I ended up in the hospital, and he once again rushed off to Savannah’s side, something inside me broke. I was 18 weeks pregnant with his child—a child I realized would always come second to his "perfect" first family. I refused to let my baby be born into a warzone. I packed my bags, booked the surgery, and killed the last tie between us. When Atticus finally found me, pale and recovering with the abortion papers on the bedside table, the untouchable CEO completely shattered. He pinned me against the wall, eyes red with sheer horror, screaming, "How could you do this?! Give me back my child!" He threw millions into my bank account. He chased me down the highway. He knelt under the tree where he proposed, sobbing uncontrollably, begging to abandon his ex-wife just for one more chance with…