They didn’t abandon her. Her father insisted on visiting Sam’s family the next day.
Maybe they didn’t know what their son had done.
But when they arrived at the Williams mansion, the door was opened by Sam’s elegant, cold mother.
“My son? Impregnate her?” she scoffed. “Impossible.”
Sam came out. He looked at Mary as if he’d never seen her before.
“I don’t know her.”
Mary gasped.
Sam’s father, who had been silent until then, finally spoke.
“If this child is really his… bring him back here when he’s born. We’ll do a DNA test.”
That night, Mary decided: she would keep her baby—not for Sam, but for herself. For hope. For every woman who’d been used and discarded.
As the months passed, whispers followed Mary wherever she went.
“She was supposed to be different.”
“She trapped a rich man and failed.”
“She deserves it.”
Mary walked through it all with her head bowed—until one day, she lifted it.
No more shame. She would raise her child with pride.
