The Nine O'Clock Husband - Chapter 5

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The doctor stood beside me, looking regretful:

“Three weeks pregnant, unfortunately, we couldn’t save it.”

Three weeks pregnant?

I suddenly remembered that three weeks ago, there was a night when Jackson came home drunk, and we did have a brief encounter.

But it was just a hasty affair, barely any feeling involved, and yet I got pregnant?

My heart felt like it had been struck by a hammer, and my hand instinctively moved to my belly.

There had once been a small life growing there, but before I could even celebrate its arrival, it was gone.

Did it see that this home was already broken, and that’s why it didn’t want to come?

I thought miserably, Jackson’s resolute back flashing through my mind as he left.

If he had turned back just once, could our child have been saved?

But he didn’t; his heart had long leaned towards Ava and her child.

He claimed to love me, yet he couldn’t even give me basic trust.

When I discovered Jackson’s betrayal, I didn’t regret it, but now, I regret not realizing it sooner.

I still sent Jackson a message about the divorce, reminding him that if he continued to avoid it, I would hire a lawyer.

I would also make a big deal out of it, damaging his company’s reputation.

Half an hour later, Jackson appeared in my hospital room with the signed agreement.

“I didn’t want things to get to this point, but you shouldn’t have laid a hand on a child.”

“Isabella, I should let you go out and suffer a bit.”

I had to admit, Jackson was arrogant, arrogantly thinking I couldn’t live without him.

I signed my name swiftly and decisively.

“Jackson, the greatest suffering I’ve endured in this life was being by your side.”

Jackson’s face turned extremely unpleasant, and after a moment, he snorted coldly:

“You talk so grandly, yet you still have to pretend to be sick to compete with other women. Don’t come crying back to me.”

From the moment he entered, he hadn’t asked about my condition, thinking I was pretending to be sick.

I laughed in anger, initially planning to tell him about the miscarriage, but now I felt it was unnecessary.

“I’ll never regret this in my life. We’ll get the divorce certificate tomorrow, now get out.”

Jackson, having gained nothing, finally left in exasperation.

That night, Ava updated her social media with a new post: “The baby’s dad says he’ll officially start tomorrow!”

I ignored it and deleted her directly.

Neither she nor Jackson was worth any more of my anger.

The next morning, at the entrance of the civil affairs bureau, Ava accompanied Jackson.

Seeing me, her eyes were full of smugness.

There weren’t many people getting divorced, so the process was quick.

The moment I held the divorce certificate, I felt the shackles binding me disappear.

“You can have the house, just throw away my things,” Jackson said coldly, his eyes fixed intently on me.

I didn’t even spare him a glance, went home to grab the luggage I had packed earlier, and booked a flight back to my hometown.

Before closing the door, I took one last look at this home.

This was the place Jackson and I bought after earning our first pot of gold. It wasn’t big, but we had decorated and furnished it ourselves.

On the day we moved in, Jackson spun me around several times, as happy as a child.

“Isabella, we finally have a home of our own.”

But now, the home was broken.

Before boarding the plane, I contacted a real estate agent to help me sell it.