The Pharmaceutical Husband’s IVF for His Friend’s Widow

Chapter 1

When I discovered I was pregnant, I was about to tell my husband Alexander the good news.

But then I saw an Instagram post notification—a pregnancy test result.

Two pink lines, black text on white background, with the father's name clearly written: Alexander Grant.

The poster was Evelyn Shaw. The widow of his "deceased friend."

Her caption read:

"Thank you for donating your sperm and personally performing my IVF procedure, Alex. I'll never be alone again."

In that moment, my hands began to tremble.

I immediately called Alexander: "Give me an explanation."

He was silent for a few seconds, his tone as calm as if he were speaking at a board meeting.

"Ethan was my best friend! He died, leaving his wife alone. I just wanted to help her fulfill their wish."

In that moment, I knew—this marriage needed to end.

......

I always thought the collapse of a marriage was gradual.

Like water seeping into stone, cracks spreading bit by bit.

But that morning, I realized—sometimes, it only takes one social media post.

After seeing Evelyn's Instagram post, I scheduled an abortion for tomorrow.

That's when Alexander came home.

He walked in, suit impeccable, expression composed as if nothing had happened.

In one hand, he carried a bag from the lab; in the other, a bag from my favorite French patisserie.

He still remembered I loved their lemon tarts.

How ironic.

"Clara," his tone was excessively gentle, "I brought you some pastries."

He approached to kiss my forehead.

I stepped back half a pace.

In that moment, I could smell the sterile disinfectant from his lab, mixed with perfume.

It was the brand Evelyn often wore—it made me want to vomit.

"Don't touch me."

He froze, frowning slightly.

"You're still angry?"

"That post you saw is just a misunderstanding. Evelyn is emotionally unstable. I didn't want her to feel abandoned by the world."

I laughed. My voice trembled with the sound.

"Oh, so you used your own sperm and personally performed the procedure to make her feel 'cared for'?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Don't use that tone. It's not as sordid as you think. It's part of a research project. The company needs experimental data, and she happened to need a child."

"Research?" I questioned. "The 'donation consent form' you signed—the father's name isn't 'Grant Biotech,' it's 'Alexander Grant.'"

I stared at him. "Did the company require your full name, or did you volunteer it?"

The air became terrifyingly quiet.

After a few seconds, he said coldly:

"You're being too emotional. Ethan is dead. I have a responsibility to care for Evelyn. You should understand."

My throat felt like it was filled with glass shards, my laugh coming out hoarse and painful: "I just want to know—in your dictionary, does 'responsibility' include betrayal?"

He was silent for a few seconds, then took a deep breath.

"Clara, I know you care, but I'm the CEO of a pharmaceutical company. You know what my profession requires. You shouldn't make such a... big deal out of this."

His words made me laugh bitterly. I used to be the chief legal counsel at his company.

I knew his crisis management tactics: first cool things down, then deflect, then calmly assign blame.

He was using the same techniques on me.

When Ethan first died, I sympathized with Evelyn too.

So I always took care of her, invited her to our home for dinner, included her when I went shopping.

I gave her gifts. When appliances broke at her place, Alexander and I would go over to help repair them.

At the time, Evelyn said to me with red-rimmed eyes: "If Ethan were still here, you wouldn't have to be troubled with these things."

"It's nothing, don't be so formal with us," I told her.

But later, Evelyn's relationship with Alexander gradually changed.

He would accompany her to the supermarket alone, help her choose furniture, drive her to the hospital in the middle of the night when she was sick...

But these were things he never proactively did for me.

Whenever I felt he was going too far, Alexander would say that Ethan was his most important friend, and helping care for his wife was his responsibility.

I had wanted to have a proper conversation with him, but Alexander's attitude left me speechless.

"I think we should cool off."

After dropping that line, Alexander turned and left.

Where could he go this late?

I didn't need to guess.

Soon, I received a story update notification on my IG.

It was from Evelyn.

In the photo, Alexander's hand rested on Evelyn's belly.

"The baby's father walked with me and the baby tonight. We're the happiest family of three in the world."

Looking at that photo, I couldn't help but laugh at my own foolishness.

This marriage was already finished, but I hadn't known it.

If that's the case, then let's end it sooner rather than later.