The Man Who Abandoned Her Love

For ten years, I thought Chase Strong was my savior, pulling me from my small Midwestern town to the glitter of New York City, where I became his devoted fiancée and a successful hand model.

Then, a surprise manicure booked by Chase at his ex-girlfriend Karis' s salon left my hands ruined, destroying my career just days before a major contract.

When my agent threatened legal action against Karis, Chase' s rage exploded, accusing me of ruining her business. Days later, he drove me deep into a national park, pulled me from the car, threw my purse on the ground, and drove away, leaving me stranded, pregnant, and with no cell service.

After two days of terror and dehydration, I returned home to find Chase casually laughing with his friends about abandoning me, calling me a "placeholder" and mocking my career, revealing his true, cruel nature.

I couldn' t understand how the man I loved, the father of my unborn child, could see me as a disposable object, especially after my own family had disowned me, leaving me truly alone and with nowhere to go.

With nothing left to lose, I made a decision: I would cut all ties with Chase, starting with the baby, and reclaim my life, no matter the cost.

Chapter 1

For ten years, I thought Chase Strong was my savior. He was the one who pulled me out of my small, conservative Midwestern town and brought me to the glitter of New York City. For ten years, I was his loving, devoted Clare. The perfect partner for a rising tech star.

He was always so thoughtful. He remembered my favorite flowers, the way I liked my coffee, the exact shade of nail polish that made my hands look best for a photo shoot. My hands were my life, my career. As a hand model, they paid for our beautiful apartment, even if his startup was the thing everyone talked about.

One afternoon, he surprised me. "I booked you a manicure at a new place, babe. It's supposed to be the best in the city. Exclusive."

I smiled, grateful as always. "You didn't have to do that."

"Only the best for you," he said, kissing my forehead.

The salon was chic, all white marble and minimalist design. A woman with a sharp, perfect bob and a surgically sweet smile greeted us. "Chase! It's been too long."

"Karis," he said, his voice a little tight. "This is my fiancée, Clare."

Karis Manning. His high-school sweetheart. The "one that got away." He' d mentioned her, but always as a closed chapter. Her eyes scanned me, a flicker of something cold in their depths before the sweet smile returned.

"Of course. Clare. Your hands are legendary," she said, leading me to a chair. "Let me take care of you personally."

She worked with precision, her own nails perfect daggers of crimson. But the chemical she used on my cuticles felt wrong. It burned. A sharp, searing pain.

"Is this supposed to sting so much?" I asked, trying to pull my hand back.

"Just a new vitamin treatment, honey. It's working its magic," she said, her grip firm.

By the time I left, my hands were red and raw. The next morning, they were a disaster. The skin was peeling, inflamed, and utterly ruined. A $300,000 contract for a diamond campaign was due to shoot in three days. It was gone. My entire career was on fire.

My agency was furious. They had warned me about Karis's salon. Rumors of shoddy practices and cutting corners had been circulating for months. I had ignored them because Chase had insisted. When my agent called the salon and threatened legal action, blacklisting them from the industry, Chase' s reaction wasn't sympathy. It was rage.

"You're ruining her business!" he yelled, his face twisted into an ugly mask I'd never seen before. "Because you couldn't handle a little sting?"

The next day, he told me we were going for a drive to clear our heads. He drove for hours, into the mountains, until we were deep inside a national park. He stopped the car on a deserted overlook.

"Get out," he said.

"What?"

"Get out of the car, Clare." His voice was flat, empty of any warmth. He pulled me out, threw my purse on the ground, got back in the car, and drove away.

I was left there. Pregnant, my hands ruined, with no cell service and no one for miles.

It took me two days to walk out of that park. Two days of terror, hunger, and dehydration. A park ranger found me collapsed on the side of the road. When I finally got back to our apartment, exhausted and broken, I heard voices from the living room. Chase and his friends.

I stopped in the hallway, hidden by the shadows, and listened.

"You actually left her there? In the woods?" one of his friends, Mark, asked, laughing.

"She needed to learn a lesson," Chase's voice was casual, light. "She and her agency were going to ruin Karis. Can't have that."

"But she's pregnant, man. What if something happened?"

Chase chuckled. A low, cruel sound. "What's going to happen? She's tough. A good Midwestern girl, right? Besides, the pregnancy is the only thing making her useful right now."

My blood ran cold.

Another friend, Leo, chimed in. "Useful how? Her hands are shot."

"She's a placeholder, you idiot," Chase said. "She's pregnant, and her family hates her. Where's she going to go? She has nothing without me. She's trapped. She' ll learn to be grateful again."

They all laughed.

"She was getting too big for her britches, talking about her 'career'," Chase mocked. "A hand model. Please."

"Did you see her when she got back?" Mark asked. "Looked like something the cat dragged in. All muddy and her hair a mess."

"Serves her right," Chase said. "A little punishment for crossing Karis."

I stood there, shaking so hard my teeth chattered. The man I loved, the man I had given ten years of my life to, the father of my unborn child, saw me as a thing. An object to be controlled and discarded.

I thought maybe he was just angry. That he would feel guilty. That he would apologize. That last shred of hope died right there in the hallway.

"You're not worried she'll leave you?" Leo asked.

Chase's laugh was arrogant, full of confidence. "Leave me? Clare loves me more than she loves herself. She worships the ground I walk on. She'll cry, she'll beg for my forgiveness, and then she'll be the perfect, obedient fiancée again. She has nowhere else to go."

Every word was a nail in the coffin of the love I thought we had. A bitter smile touched my lips. He was right about one thing. I had nowhere to go.

I crept into the bedroom and found my phone. I dialed my mother's number. My hands trembled as I listened to it ring.

"Hello?" Her voice was sharp, impatient.

"Mom, it's Clare. I... I need help."

"Clare? What now? Are you asking for money again? Your father and I are done. You made your choice when you ran off to New York with that man."

"Mom, please, I'm in trouble."

"We threw out that little box of your things from your room last week," she said, her voice like ice. "There's nothing for you here. Don't call again."

The line went dead.

I was truly alone. Chase had found me when I was eighteen, a girl desperate to escape a family that saw her as a failure for not wanting to marry a local farmer. He had seemed like a prince, my rescuer. Now I saw the truth. He hadn't rescued me. He'd just found a girl with no support system, someone easy to mold, someone who looked just enough like Karis to be a temporary replacement.

Rain started to beat against the window. Without thinking, I took off my shoes, walked out of the apartment, and into the downpour. I walked barefoot through the city streets, the cold pavement a shock to my system. I didn't stop until I was standing in front of a clinic.

Inside, the light was too bright. I walked to the counter. "I need to schedule an abortion."

The nurse looked at me, her expression kind but professional. She took me into a small room. A doctor came in and looked over the chart the nurse had started.

"Ms. Jennings," the doctor said gently. "You're malnourished and severely dehydrated. Your body has been through significant stress. An abortion right now carries risks."

"What kind of risks?" My voice was a croak.

"It could affect your ability to have children in the future. It could be permanent."

My face felt like a stone mask. I nodded. "I understand."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I can't bring a child into this world," I whispered. "I can't be responsible for a life when I can't even protect my own."

She scheduled the procedure for a few weeks away, giving me time to get my strength back.

I dragged myself back to the apartment. Chase and his friends were still there, drinking. He saw me standing in the doorway, soaked and pale.

"Look what the storm blew in," he said with a smirk.

His friends laughed.

For the first time, I saw him clearly. The charming, doting partner was a performance. This cruel, narcissistic man was the real Chase Strong.

I said nothing. I walked past him, into our bedroom, and closed the door.

The apartment was still decorated for our engagement party. Streamers and balloons drooped from the ceiling, mocking me. The wedding was in a month. A grand affair he had planned, a public spectacle to show off his perfect life with his perfect, pregnant fiancée. A fiancée he had just left to die in a forest.

I turned on my phone. Dozens of messages. One from my agent said they'd managed to negotiate a smaller penalty for the broken contract, but it would still cost me everything I had. I was ruined.

That night, he slipped into bed beside me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his touch making my skin crawl.

"You okay, baby?" he whispered against my hair. "How's the little one?"

"We're fine," I said, my voice flat.

He shifted, sensing the change. "Still mad at me?"

I turned to face him in the dark. "Do you love me, Chase?"

"Of course I do," he said, without a moment's hesitation. The lie came so easily.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up. I could hear a woman's soft sobs through the speaker. Karis.

"Chase, don't leave me," she cried. "Please don't get married. I can't live without you."

His whole body tensed. "Karis, calm down. I'm not leaving you."

"But the wedding..."

"I'll be right there," he said, his voice urgent and soft. He hung up and looked at me, a flicker of annoyance on his face.

"Don't start, Clare," he warned. "She's just having a hard time."

"So you're going to her? Now?"

"I'll be back," he said, already getting out of bed. "We're still getting married. Just be a good girl and take care of yourself. And the baby." He paused at the door, as if he suddenly realized he might have pushed too far. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

Then he was gone.

Even after everything, even after he'd left me in the woods, he still chose her. I was just the convenient incubator, the woman who was supposed to wait patiently in the background.

I got out of bed and went to the box of old photos in the closet. I sifted through them. The last picture of just the two of us was from three years ago. Everything since then, every holiday, every party, Karis was there, hovering at the edge of the frame, a ghost in our lives.

I opened my laptop. Karis had just posted on Instagram. A picture of a beautiful, handmade wooden birdhouse. The caption read: "He still remembers I love blue jays. Some things never change. #soulmates"

Chase had made that for her. He had never made anything for me. He bought me things, expensive things, but he never gave me his time, his effort. I was always the one who had to be understanding, the one who couldn't be demanding.

It wasn't that he liked an "understanding" woman. He just didn't like me.

With a surge of cold fury, I grabbed the photos of us and tore them to pieces. A sharp edge of a glossy print sliced my finger. I watched a drop of blood well up on my skin. It was nothing compared to the damage he had done to my life.

The next morning, I took down all the engagement decorations. The silence in the apartment was a relief.

Around noon, the lock on the front door turned. It wasn't Chase. It was Karis.

"Hi, Clare," she said, her smile as sweet as poison. "Chase is worried about you. He asked me to come and keep you company."

I wasn't surprised. It was just like them to stage this little performance.

"That's not necessary," I said, my voice empty.

Her demeanor changed in a flash. The sweetness vanished. "Oh, I think it is," she said, stepping closer. "We need to talk." She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my belly. "You know, you really let yourself go. No wonder he gets tired of you."

I suspected Chase would be home soon, ready to play the hero.

Karis reached out, her perfectly manicured nails poking my stomach. "Is the little parasite doing okay in there?"

I flinched back, my hands instinctively moving to protect myself.

It was all she needed. She let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward, deliberately cracking her head against the sharp corner of the coffee table.

A gash opened on her forehead, and blood started to trickle down her perfect face.

The front door burst open. Chase rushed in, his eyes wide with panic. He didn't even look at me. He ran straight to Karis, cradling her in his arms.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Karis sobbed, clinging to him. "It's not her fault, Chase. She's just emotional because of the pregnancy. I shouldn't have come."

Her tears mixed with the blood, creating a dramatic, tragic picture. She was a master performer.

Chase turned to me, his face a storm of fury. "What the hell is wrong with you, Clare? First my career, now this? Can't you leave her alone for one second?"

He acted as if I had committed an unforgivable crime.

Karis kept up her act. "Chase, don't blame her. It was an accident. I'm fine, really."

He looked from her bleeding face to my stoic one. "Fine? She hurt you! How dare you compare yourself to her? You're not worthy of even shining her shoes."

I said nothing. I just stood there and watched his performance.

The old Clare would have been hysterical, begging for his forgiveness, desperate to explain. But the old Clare was gone. She had died somewhere in those woods. I knew then that I would never again plead for his love.

Chase seemed confused by my silence. "Aren't you going to say anything? Apologize?"

"Are you done?" I asked, my voice tired.

"What?"

"I'm tired," I said. "I'm going to my room."

I turned and walked away, leaving him sputtering in the living room with his precious Karis. I didn't feel the need to explain. I didn't care what he thought.

That night, he came into the bedroom and slid in beside me. He wrapped his arms around me, his body warm against my back. I didn't move.

"I'm tired, Clare," he whispered, his voice full of fake exhaustion. "Just be good. Stop fighting with Karis. The wedding is next week. I'll give you everything you want. Just behave."

He buried his face in my hair and ran his hand over my stomach. "Okay?"

"Okay," I whispered back.

I closed my eyes and decided. I would give up everything connected to him. Starting with the baby.

The next day, he insisted we all go to a party together. A get-together with his closest friends.

"It will be more comfortable for you in the back, sweetheart," he said, opening the rear door of his car for me while Karis slid into the front passenger seat.

I closed my eyes and listened to them chat the whole way there. They talked about old inside jokes, high school memories, a world that I was never a part of. I was just an audience to their perfect love story.

The party was in a private room at an expensive restaurant. It was his whole crew. They all greeted Karis with warm hugs and treated me with polite distance.

"Well, look at the happy couple!" Mark said, winking at Chase and Karis. "And the... other one."

Karis blushed prettily. "Don't be silly. Chase and I are just friends. Clare is his fiancée." She said it in a way that made it sound like a joke, like she was the main course and I was the side dish nobody ordered.

Chase frowned slightly, a silent signal for his friends to tone it down, but he didn't defend me. He just pulled out a chair for me, a perfunctory gesture, before doing the same for Karis, right beside him.

When the waiter came to pour wine, Chase stopped him before he reached Karis. "None for her. It makes her face flush." He knew this tiny, intimate detail about her. My glass was already full. He hadn't even noticed.

I smiled a weak, tired smile.

Someone suggested a game. Spin the bottle, but with truth or dare. The bottle spun, landing, of course, on Karis.

Mark whooped. "Dare! I dare you to play the Pocky game with someone in this room!"

Karis pretended to be shy, her eyes darting around before landing on Chase. "Chase, will you help me out? It's just a game."

He glanced at me. My face was a blank mask. I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Seeing no protest, he shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

They put the chocolate-dipped biscuit stick between their lips. The room erupted in cheers as they nibbled closer and closer. Their faces were inches apart.

I put a hand on my flat stomach, a gesture that felt hollow now. Everyone in this room had forgotten I was even here, that I was his fiancée, that I was carrying his child.

Chase's ears turned red. I'd seen that happen only when he was genuinely flustered, genuinely affected.

"I remember when you two were voted Cutest Couple in senior year," Leo slurred happily. "We all thought you'd get married."

"Yeah, and remember that time Chase drove all night to bring you soup when you had the flu?" Mark added.

Chase shot them a warning look. "Guys, shut up." He reached over and took my hand. His was warm, mine was ice-cold. "They're just drunk and talking nonsense. Don't mind them."

"I don't mind," I said, my smile feeling brittle on my face.

He nodded, satisfied. He really believed I was that stupid. That I was still the same girl who would swallow any lie he fed her.