Chapter 10:
Asher's POV
The elevator doors slid shut behind me.
The moment they sealed, everything inside me broke.
My knees nearly gave out, and I caught the polished railing just in time. A strangled sob escaped my throat before I could stop it, harsh and humiliating in the empty space.
I pressed my trembling hand over my mouth.
No, not here.
Not where anyone might hear.
Not where word could travel upstairs and become another joke at my expense.
The elevator began its descent in a countdown.
Twenty-two, twenty-one, twenty.
Each number felt like another piece of my life being stripped away.
My finger felt unbearably light without my wedding ring, my palm still burned from striking Sandra, and my chest still ached from Fred's voice, cold, dismissive, and bored.
"You are making a spectacle of yourself."
I squeezed my eyes shut….
How had I loved a man who could look at me like that?
How had I spent years defending someone who had never once defended me?
Still on countdown: nineteen...eighteen.
Seventeen… A fresh sob tore free.
I bent forward instinctively, one hand clutching my stomach protectively.
"I'm sorry," I whispered through tears. "I'm sorry, baby."
The child inside me had heard nothing and understood nothing, yet somehow I still felt I had failed.
This was not how I imagined motherhood would begin.
I had pictured joy, a soft confession. Fred's stunned silence melted into happiness. His hand is covering mine over my stomach. A family.
Instead… had stood in a boardroom while my husband destroyed me beside another woman…. And before people that respect me…
The elevator reached the lobby.
Ding… The doors opened; I straightened immediately, wiping at my face with hurried fingers.
The grand reception area buzzed with movement; employees crossed the marble floors carrying files and coffee cups, security stood by the entrance, and receptionists typed quickly behind sleek desks.
Several people looked up; their eyes found my swollen face, then my bare hand.
Then the expression I could not hide, whispers began almost instantly; I lifted my chin and walked forward.
Every step felt like walking through fire.
No one stopped me, no one asked if I was alright, and no one would dare.
Outside, the city air struck my face.
Cars honked below; voices blended into traffic noise.
Life continued with cruel indifference.
I stood at the top of the company steps, staring at the crowded street.
Where was I supposed to go? Home?
There was no home anymore; Fred had made sure of that.
The mansion, which I had arranged room by room; the kitchen, where I learned the chef's preferences; the bedroom, where I had cried alone more nights than I could count,
None of it had ever truly belonged to me.
Even my role as wife had only existed when it was useful to him.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips; I had given everything but was left with nothing except the child inside me.
A wave of dizziness struck so sharply my vision blurred… I grabbed the stone railing before I fell.
I had barely eaten. Shock, grief, and humiliation had each drained the little strength I had left.
"Asher!" I froze.
That voice sounds familiar. I turned.
Cecilia was hurrying toward me from the curb, heels clicking fast against the pavement, panic written across her face; she reached me in seconds.
"Oh my God." Her hands gripped my arms.
"Asher… what did they do to you?"
The concern in her voice shattered whatever control I had left; I collapsed into her embrace and sobbed.
Not elegant tears, not quiet tears, but
The kind that wracked the body and stole breath.
Cecilia held me tightly, one hand cradling the back of my head.
"It's okay," she murmured fiercely. "Cry. Let it out. I'm here."
People glanced at us as they passed; now I no longer cared.
"I have nowhere to go," I choked out.
"You have me." She cut in.
"I resigned."
"That is good," Cecilia said in amusement.
"He chose her."
"Then let him suffer with that mistake."
A broken laugh escaped me through tears.
Only Cecilia could still make me laugh while my world burned.
She pulled back just enough to study my face.
"You're pale."...
"I'm fine," I responded.
"You're lying," she cut in.
"I'm breathing; isn't that enough?" I asked…
Her jaw tightened. What happened upstairs?" I looked away…
"How much time do you have?" "Asher."
That warning tone made me sigh shakily.
"He humiliated me in front of everyone; he allowed Sandra to insult me, called me emotional, and said I was embarrassing myself."
Cecilia went still, with a dangerous stillness.
"I swear, one day I'll drag him down those stairs myself."
"You'll need to queue behind me." She almost smiled.
"And Sandra?" she asked again.
"I slapped her."
Her eyes widened.
"You what?"...
"I slapped her," I repeated.
A slow grin curved her lips. "That's the friend I know."
I laughed weakly, then pressed a hand to my stomach as another dizzy spell rolled through me.
Her expression changed immediately.
"That's it. We're going home."
"I'm okay."
"No, you're pregnant and stressed out of your mind.", "I said I'm okay." I said coldly..
"And I said, 'Stop pretending.'" She softened her voice. "Ash… you're not alone in this."
At those words, fresh tears rose.
She had known from the beginning.
She was the one who held me when I first found out, the one who bought prenatal vitamins before I could even think clearly.
The one who kept asking if I had told Fred yet.
I had wanted to tell him at the right moment.
What a foolish dream.
"I wanted him to know about me," I whispered.
Cecilia's eyes filled with anger and pity.
"He lost the right to special moments when he chose cruelty."
"He's still the father."
"Biology doesn't make a man worthy."
The words hit deep because they were true.
I looked down at my stomach.
So small and hidden, yet, it's already the center of my entire life.
"What do I do now?" I asked quietly.
"You breathe," Cecilia said.
"You come with me.", "You eat and rest."
"And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow…" She opened the passenger door of her car and looked at me steadily. "We plan for your future, not your past."
I got in slowly.
As she drove away, I glanced back once.
Morren Holdings rose into the sky behind us, tall and shining.
A monument built on power, pride, and men like Fred.
Somewhere inside that tower, he was still standing in his polished boardroom, still angry, and controlling the story, still believing I would come back and beg.
My throat tightened.
"Don't look back," Cecilia said quietly, eyes on the road.
I turned toward her, "You were never the one thrown away, Asher."
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"They discarded something priceless," and tears slipped silently down my cheeks; I let them fal
l.
Then I placed both hands over my stomach and made a promise to the child inside me.
No matter how hard the road ahead became,
I would never beg Fred Morren for love again.