Chapter 3

I walked out of the doctor's office in a daze, her cheerful words echoing in the sterile hallway. Pregnant. Six weeks. I placed a hand on my still-flat stomach, a tear slipping from the corner of my eye.

This tiny, innocent life. Why now? Why did it have to choose this moment to arrive, in the middle of this wreckage?

As I reached the end of the long corridor, a familiar silhouette made me freeze.

It was Emilio. He was standing near the elevators, his arm wrapped around Hayden Cleveland, who was sobbing into his chest. He was murmuring words of comfort, his expression filled with a tender concern I hadn't seen directed at me in a long, long time.

I ducked behind a large potted plant, my heart pounding. I couldn't hear their words clearly, but his actions spoke volumes.

Then, Hayden's choked whisper carried down the hall. "Do you think she suspects anything?"

"She trusts me," Emilio replied, his voice casual, dismissive. It was a careless statement that revealed everything about how little he thought of me, of my intelligence.

"But when will you make me your wife?" Hayden pressed, her voice laced with a desperate ambition. "When can you give me and Leo the life we deserve?"

"Hayden, stop," he cut her off, a hint of steel in his tone. "Elana is my wife. That will not change."

My breath caught in my throat.

"It's the least I can do," he continued, his voice softer now, tinged with what sounded like guilt. "It's my penance for what I've done to her."

Hayden fell silent, accepting his decision with a reluctant nod. He pulled her into another hug, kissing her hair.

"You gave me a beautiful son, Hayden," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I will always take care of you both."

They walked towards the elevator, their arms around each other. As the doors were about to close, Hayden's eyes flickered in my direction. For a split second, her gaze met mine. There was no surprise in her eyes, only a flash of cold, triumphant victory.

She knew. She had known I was there the whole time.

I stepped out from behind the plant, my body trembling. The tears I' d been holding back streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. The pain in my chest was a physical weight, crushing me.

He didn't want to divorce me out of guilt, but he would never give up his other family. What did that make me? A placeholder? A symbol of a commitment he no longer felt but was too cowardly to break?

I remembered his promises, his vows. "In sickness and in health, till death do us part." He had said them with such conviction. I had believed him.

But he had betrayed me. And this love, this toxic, fractured thing, was something I had to cut out of my life.

Before I left the hospital, I walked back to the front desk and scheduled an appointment. An abortion.

Then I called my lawyer.

"Draw up the divorce papers," I said, my voice cold and steady. "I want everything split down the middle. Everything I am entitled to."

I was sitting in my car in the hospital parking lot when my phone rang. It was Emilio. His voice was hoarse, tired.

"Happy birthday, Elana."

I had completely forgotten. In the chaos and the pain, my own birthday had slipped my mind.

"I' m so sorry about last night," he said, his voice laced with practiced regret. "A crisis at the office. I didn't get home at all."

A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. "Okay," I said, the two words feeling like dust in my mouth.

He seemed to relax on the other end, relieved by my lack of questions. "I' ve arranged a gala for you tonight. To celebrate your birthday and the new wing you designed for the museum. To make it up to you."

"Okay," I repeated, my voice a monotone.

A year ago, those words would have made me cry with happiness. Now, they were just another layer to his elaborate lie.

I didn't want to hear his voice anymore. I hung up the phone, my hand gripping a steering wheel.

I looked out the window, but I didn't see anything. I just felt a deep, chilling premonition. He had no idea what was coming. He felt a sense of unease, a feeling that something precious was slipping through his fingers, but he couldn't name it.

He had no idea it was already gone.