When He Stopped Loving Me Chapter 10

One day, Ethan brought Rachel directly to the villa.

"Claire, what happened is in the past. Rachel's health needs attention. I'm not comfortable with her living alone. Starting today, she'll live here. I hope you... can coexist peacefully."

From that day on, the "home" that had once belonged to her and Ethan became his and Rachel's love nest.

Claire was forced to hear their unrestrained laughter, watch Ethan spoil Rachel endlessly.

They kissed on the living room sofa, entangled on the dining table, even made love at her piano.

The servants kept their heads down, hurrying past, afraid to look or listen.

Until late one night, Claire was jolted awake by urgent footsteps and panicked shouts.

Opening her door, she saw Ethan disheveled, face showing unprecedented panic, carrying an equally disheveled Rachel whose lower body bled continuously, groaning in pain. He rushed downstairs like a madman, heading for the exit.

Soon after, the butler came upstairs, expression complex. "Mrs. Pierce, Mr. Pierce requests you be taken to the hospital."

Claire asked no questions, silently following the butler to the car.

At the hospital, she learned what had happened.

Overly rough intercourse had caused Rachel's corpus luteum rupture. During emergency treatment, they discovered she was pregnant, triggering massive hemorrhaging—critically dangerous.

The transfusion required enormous amounts of blood. Unfortunately, Rachel had rare Rh-negative blood type. The blood bank was critically low.

And Claire? Also Rh-negative.

Ethan ignored Claire's refusal, directly ordering people to take her to the blood donation room.

"Draw it!" Ethan roared at the doctor. "Keep drawing until Rachel's out of danger!"

The doctor hesitated. "Mr. Pierce, Ms. Morrison's body is very weak. Drawing more might..."

"Whether she lives or dies doesn't matter!" Ethan cut him off. "I must save Rachel and my child!"

Whether she lives or dies... doesn't matter...

Claire lay there hearing these bone-chilling words, suddenly remembering long ago when she'd just had a bad cold and he'd stayed by her bed for three days and nights, eyes bloodshot, holding her hand and repeating: "Claire, get better quickly. If something happens to you, what will I do?"

Now he could watch her blood being drained and say casually "dead doesn't matter."

The enormous grief and absurdity crashed over her like a tsunami. Her vision went black, losing consciousness again.

When she woke, no one was beside her.

Her phone rang—the courthouse calling. "Ms. Morrison, your divorce cooling-off period has ended. You may come collect your divorce certificate."

Claire staggered up, leaving the hospital room.

Passing Rachel's room, she saw Ethan leaning on Rachel's belly, face full of joy at impending fatherhood.

Their intimate nestling together stabbed at her eyes, but her heart was already numb.

She said nothing, turning to leave.

After collecting the divorce certificate, Claire returned to the villa to pack.

She actually had few belongings. Most jewelry, bags, and designer clothes Ethan had given her—she took nothing.

Organizing the bottom desk drawer, she found a hard box.

Inside were thick stacks of love letters.

All written by young Ethan to her.

"Claire, seeing you talk to that guy from the other class today made me crazy with jealousy. You're mine, only mine."

"Claire, after graduation we'll marry. I'll give you the grandest wedding, let the whole world know you're my wife."

"My love, today's our 999th day together. Loving you is the most correct, happiest thing I've ever done. We'll be together forever, growing old together."

She read them one by one without tears, just trembling fingertips.

She stood, surveying this carefully decorated home.

They'd cooked together here, watched movies, planned their future. He'd held her on that living room sofa, calling her his whole world. They'd embraced in the bedroom, promising to grow old together.

Now it was all mockery.

Claire stood at the door with her suitcase. Finally, she lit a match and tossed it toward the curtains.

Flames spread rapidly, consuming the sofa, love letters, piano...

In the roaring fire, Claire seemed to see sixteen-year-old Ethan and sixteen-year-old Claire.

Hand in hand, playing by the cherry trees, him pulling her ponytail, her laughing as she chased.

Then both slowly dissipating together in the inferno.

She smiled faintly, turned, and left without looking back.

Before her flight departed, she logged onto Twitter and posted a final update:

"At sixteen, you said you'd love me forever. At twenty, we married and you vowed eternal faithfulness before God. At twenty-five, you fell for someone else. Today, we're divorced. Take back your promises. I'm taking back my heart. From now on, I'm no longer Mrs. Pierce you fooled into loving you—I'm just Claire Morrison. @EthanPierce"

Posted successfully.

She turned off her phone, removed the SIM card, tossing it into the seat-front trash bag.