Chapter 3

The doctor's words hung in the air, a surreal, impossible truth. Pregnant. My hand, almost unconsciously, went to my abdomen, flat and unchanging. A life, forming inside me. His life.

Tears, hot and unstoppable, streamed down my face. Joy, grief, anger, confusion-they all swirled into a nauseating cocktail. How could this be? After all his denials, all his excuses. Now, when everything was shattered, this.

I needed certainty. More than that, I needed absolute privacy. I made an appointment at a renowned private clinic across town, one known for its celebrity clients and ironclad confidentiality. I couldn't risk anyone-especially Arthur or Karin-finding out.

The waiting room was tastefully minimalist, hushed. I sat, my mind a storm of conflicting emotions, trying to decide what to do. A small hand tugged at my skirt.

"Ugly lady!" Leo. He giggled, a bright, innocent sound that now grated on my nerves. He had a juice box in his hand. Before I could react, he squeezed it, and a stream of sticky orange liquid splattered across my leg. Another ruined outfit. Another calculated humiliation.

Arthur, looking harried, appeared from an examination room. "Leo! What did I tell you about bothering people?" His tone was mild, a mere ripple on the surface of his composure. He glanced at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked. "Elenora? What are you doing here?"

"Just a routine check-up," I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. I moved to leave, to escape the suffocating proximity of his double life.

But then I heard it. Arthur, speaking to a nurse, his voice low but clear. "My son, Leo, just a quick check-up. He's my only child, you know. My pride and joy."

"My only child." The words echoed in the sterile silence of the clinic, each syllable a shard of glass ripping through me. My hand flew to my belly, a protective, desperate gesture. He had a child. Our child. And he had just casually, brutally, disowned it.

A wave of nausea crashed over me, stronger than anything I'd felt before. I stumbled into the nearest restroom, barely making it to the sink before I retched. It wasn't just the morning sickness anymore. It was the sickness of his lies, the monumental scale of his betrayal.

When I emerged, Karin was waiting. She stood leaning against the wall, perfectly poised, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Lost your lunch, Elenora?" she purred, her voice a cruel whisper. "Must be the stress. Or perhaps the realization that some people just aren't meant to have children. Arthur certainly doesn't want yours."

My breath caught in my throat. How-? She knew. She knew about the baby. The implication was horrifying. Had she been tracking me? Was this all part of her sickening game?

"You're a monster," I whispered, my voice raw.

She laughed, a low, throaty sound. "And you, Elenora, are a fool. Arthur is mine. Leo is his only legacy. You have nothing." She leaned closer, her eyes blazing with malice. "Consider this a warning. Disappear. Or I will make you."

I straightened my shoulders, a sudden, cold resolve hardening my spine. "You won't make me do anything," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I decide my future now." I walked past her, my head held high, leaving her standing there, her words echoing like a death knell for a life I once knew.

As I reached the exit, Leo's high-pitched voice sliced through the air. "Daddy says he doesn't want your baby, ugly lady!" The words, coached and weaponized, hung in the air, a public execution of my last shred of hope.

The pain was a physical entity, a black hole opening in my chest, swallowing everything. There was no future for this child. Not with Arthur. Not with Karin's monstrous shadow looming.

I would terminate the pregnancy. And then, I would divorce Arthur Beasley.

My lawyer, a formidable woman named Clara, listened patiently. "I want half of everything," I stated, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Every asset, every cent. I want to bleed him dry."

Clara nodded, her expression grim. "He won't see it coming."

My phone rang as I stepped out of her office. Arthur. The caller ID glowed, an ironic beacon. I answered.

"Happy Birthday, Elenora!" he chirped, his voice falsely bright. "Sorry I'm late. You know how it is. Politics never sleeps."

"Right," I said, my tone flat enough to cut glass.

"But I have something special planned for you tonight! A surprise. Just the two of us. To make up for everything." He sounded like a hopeful puppy, oblivious to the storm brewing.

"A surprise?" I repeated, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping my lips.

"Yes! So put on something nice. I'll pick you up at eight."

"I'll be ready," I said, ending the call.

A faint smile touched my lips. He had no idea. Not a clue. He thought he was orchestrating a grand gesture. He thought he was still in control.

Tonight, everything would change. And he would be utterly unprepared.