Chapter 4 4

The lobby of Brennan Tower was a cathedral of glass and steel. Dianna walked in the next morning wearing a black trench coat and dark sunglasses. She felt nauseous, her stomach rolling with every step, but she kept her back straight.

The receptionist, a woman who had sneered at Dianna for three years, looked up.

"Mrs. Brennan? Do you have an appointment? Mr. Brennan is in a meeting."

Dianna didn't stop. She lowered her sunglasses, her eyes dark and flat. "Move."

The receptionist blinked, stunned by the sudden authority in Dianna's voice. She sat back down.

Dianna took the private elevator to the top floor. The doors opened, and she almost collided with Jeffrey Banks. He was holding a stack of files, looking harried.

"Mrs. Brennan?" Jeffrey's eyes widened. "Hunt is-"

Dianna slapped the manila envelope against Jeffrey's chest. He fumbled to catch it.

"Give this to him," she said. Her voice was steady, devoid of emotion. "Tell him I'm granting his wish."

"What is this?"

"Freedom," Dianna said. She turned around and pressed the elevator button.

"Wait, Mrs. Brennan-"

The doors slid shut, cutting him off. Dianna leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the elevator wall. She let out a long, shaky breath.

Jeffrey walked into the office. Hunt was standing by the window, looking out at the city, a glass of water in his hand.

"What was that?" Hunt asked without turning.

"Mrs. Brennan was here. She left this." Jeffrey placed the envelope on the desk.

Hunt turned. He saw the thick envelope. He walked over, ripped it open, and slid the contents out.

DIVORCE SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT

He scanned the pages. Asset division: None. Alimony: Waived.

And there, on the last page, was her signature. Elegant. Firm. Dianna Campbell.

Hunt felt a surge of irrational anger. She wasn't asking for money. She was asking to be erased. It felt like a slap in the face. It felt like she was winning.

"She thinks she can just walk away?" Hunt growled. He threw the papers onto the desk. "It's a bluff. She wants me to chase her."

Down on the street, Dianna walked out of the building. The smell of a hot dog vendor hit her, and her stomach lurched violently.

She clamped a hand over her mouth and ran to the nearest public restroom in a Starbucks. She barely made it to the stall before she retched.

She stayed there for ten minutes, her forehead resting on her arm. This wasn't just stress. She knew this feeling.

She walked to the CVS across the street. Her hands shook as she paid for the box.

Back in the bathroom stall, time seemed to stretch and warp. Dianna sat on the toilet lid, staring at the three white sticks lined up on the toilet paper dispenser.

Two pink lines.

Two pink lines.

Two pink lines.

The world tilted. She was pregnant.

She pressed her hand to her flat stomach. A baby. Hunt's baby.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Hunt.

She stared at the name flashing on the screen. If she answered, if she told him... no. He would think it was a trap. Or worse, he would take the baby and lock her out. He would use the child as a pawn.

She pressed the 'Block' button.

Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't sob. She wiped them away aggressively.

"You're mine," she whispered to her stomach. "Just mine."

She pulled out the burner phone and dialed a number she had memorized but never used.

"Grandfather?" she said when the line clicked open.

Arthur Campbell, the patriarch of the Campbell medical dynasty, answered. His voice was gravel and steel. "Dianna? You're finally calling."

"I need help," she said, her voice breaking. "I need to disappear. Completely."

"Done," Arthur said. "Where are you?"

"New York. But I can't be Dianna Brennan anymore."

"From today," Arthur said, "You are Dr. Campbell. Come home."