The Ex-Wife's Return: His Child, Her Reckoning

Ivanna Robinson

I stare at the paper in my hand, tears blurring my vision. The knot that's been lodged in my throat for two years finally loosens, and a sob breaks free.

"Is this... is this real?" I ask my friend, my own voice sounding distant and uncertain.

Viena watches me, her own eyes shining with emotion. She takes my hands in hers, her lips pressed into a tight, emotional smile as she nods.

"Yes, Ivy. You're pregnant."

It finally happened.

I throw my arms around my friend, the reality of it all crashing down on me. After trying for so long, the knowledge that I'm finally carrying a child-our child-is more than exciting. It's everything.

"Now I just have to plan the perfect surprise for Shane," I sigh, a thrill running through me. "If anyone's going to be happier about this than I am, it's him."

Viena nods in agreement.

"I'll help you. Shane deserves it."

I nod and push myself up from the bench where we were sitting, just outside the OB-GYN's office.

I tuck the envelope-the best news of my life-into my purse. As we head down the hall, I nearly walk right into Abigail Allen-my stepsister.

A grimace twists my lips before I can stop it. I quickly try to school my features, seeing she's with my mother-in-law-a far too common sight.

"Ivanna, darling, what a joy to see you. It's been a while since we've seen you. How have you been?" she asks, her smile as bright as it is fake.

And as she speaks, her sweet words dripping with cynicism, my eyes catch on the unmistakable swell of a baby bump beneath her dress. For a few seconds, I'm frozen in shock. I say nothing.

I hear my mother-in-law's voice.

"You're not the only one, Abbi, darling. My daughter-in-law isn't just good at staying away from me-she keeps my son away, too," she says in that saccharine, hypocritical tone she reserves just for me. Her eyes rake over me as if I were something disgusting she'd found on her shoe. "What are you doing here? Did you finally decide to get tested? To prove to Shane once and for all that there's no future with you?"

Bile rises in my throat. She always knows exactly where to stick the knife. And for years, she's been the one twisting it.

"And does Shane agree with you on that? Because, much to your disappointment, your son is completely in love with Ivanna. Whatever poison you try to feed him, it doesn't work."

It's Viena who speaks up, and I want to pinch her to shut her up.

I don't want a confrontation. Not today. Not when I'm this happy, and when I'll soon have the ultimate proof that this woman has always been wrong about me.

However, Aurora Robinson, my mother-in-law, doesn't look at my friend with malice, the way she usually does. Her eyes gleam with a wickedness that makes the hair on my arms stand up.

"Is that what you think?" she retorts, her gaze snapping back to me. "Then you must know everything, mustn't you?"

I frown. I have no idea what she's talking about, but I don't miss Abigail's sudden flinch.

"Aurora, no, please. You know what Shane made me promise. I can't betray him like this," she pleads, her voice so submissive, so full of feigned worry, that it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

What the hell is going on?

I narrow my eyes at her.

"What do you have to do with my husband? He barely gives you the time of day."

Abigail's sudden, smug laugh is all the warning I need. Whatever she's about to say, I'm not going to like it.

"That's what you'd like to believe, isn't it? To save what's left of your marriage. I get it. I'd act possessive too if I couldn't give my man what he longs for. But deep down, you know you can't hold on to a man like Shane. He's fiery, relentless. Once he sets his mind on something, he sees it through. And I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, darling, but you were going to find out sooner or later."

She smiles triumphantly. "I'm pregnant with your husband's child. He asked me to give him an heir. It was a hard decision, of course, but... we've always had a certain chemistry. I couldn't say no."

"What did you just say?" I demand, my vision swimming with rage, my mind refusing to process her words.

I lunge forward, but Aurora steps between us.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on Abigail, or you'll find out what I'm capable of," she threatens. Over her shoulder, I can see the smug satisfaction on Abigail's face. "Do you finally understand what's happening? Shane had to find a mistress because the woman he married isn't woman enough to give him a child. Aren't you ashamed? And you're so stupid. You demand he distance himself from his own family-from the woman who should be by his side-only to find out like this, in the most humiliating way possible, that you will never be enough. Not for him. Not for the Robinson family."

"Shane wouldn't do that to me. You're lying." I shake my head, desperate.

Now it's Abigail's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Why would I lie about something you can verify later?" she mocks.

I growl, shoving Aurora aside to face Abigail directly.

"I trust Shane. I know he wouldn't do this to me. You two have been trying to tear us apart for so long, you've finally resorted to cheap tricks like this. But just so you know, Abigail, it won't work," I assure her, my voice shaking with conviction.

The love Shane and I share is real. I know him. He would never be capable of this.

"You think throwing yourself at him wins you points? You said it yourself-he's relentless. And when he told you to stay away, it wasn't a suggestion. You feel powerful with Aurora backing you up? Shane himself can tell you how little that matters. But you're just a pathetic social climber, and even that word is too good for you."

Abigail's face flushes with rage. Before I can react, her hand flies out, the slap cracking across my cheek and snapping my head to the side. But through the stinging shock, I don't hesitate. I slap her right back, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

"Try that again, you bitch!" I shout.

Aurora lunges to defend Abigail, and Viena moves to my side.

"You've gone too far this time. I'm done keeping quiet. Shane is going to hear all about this. The masks are coming off, and you will be sorry."

Abigail suddenly cries out, her face twisting in pain as she doubles over with a groan.

Aurora's eyes burn into me before she rushes to her side.

"See what you've done? I told you you'd regret this! Shane will never forgive you for this, damn you!"

Blood begins to trickle down Abigail's legs, and I freeze.

Aurora sees it too and screams for help. Once medics have rushed Abigail away, Aurora whirls on me, her eyes stormy with rage, and lunges. I throw my arms up to shield myself. I can't bring myself to strike my husband's mother.

Viena throws herself between us.

"Abigail is carrying my grandchild. If she loses that baby, I swear, you will pay. You want proof that I'm not lying? That Shane is the father? Just go into that exam room. Read the document he signed a few days ago. When you see it, you'll finally understand just how little my son cares about you. You'll understand that you lost this fight before it even began."

She turns and walks away, leaving me trembling, staring into space. This has to be a nightmare.

Viena is in front of me, her mouth moving, but I can't hear a thing. She guides me to a chair, then disappears for a moment. When she returns, the look on her face makes my stomach drop.

She kneels before me, her expression a painful mix of fury, disappointment, and pity. It's all I need to see. It confirms the one thing I was terrified to admit to myself.

"I'm so sorry, Ivy. It's true. Shane is listed as the father on her medical chart. He confirmed it."

Ivanna Robinson

Two tears escape, tracing cold paths down my cheeks.

Only two.

My chest is on fire. I can't seem to draw a full breath. The edges of my vision swim, and I feel like I could pass out at any moment.

Viena had pulled me from the clinic, settled me in a café across the street, and then gone back to find out what was really happening with Abigail and her pregnancy.

His child.

The one she's expecting with Shane, my husband, a voice in my head insists, as if saying it enough times will force me to believe it.

It's a reality I don't dare face. I can't even bring myself to call him, to demand an explanation-not now, when I can feel the ground shifting beneath our lives, our marriage.

I wrap my arms around my still-flat belly. A sob breaks past my lips, and I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of strangers watching me fall apart.

Two whole years of trying to get pregnant. Two years of fertility appointments, of crying in secret because I couldn't give the man I love the one thing he wanted most.

There were whole nights I spent just watching him sleep, a cold dread in my stomach that one day this would all end, only to wake hours later and see a love in his eyes that told me I was his everything.

But today, my world shattered. Everything turned to ash. My worst nightmare came true.

With trembling fingers, I pull out my phone. I find my husband's contact and press call.

It rings and rings, then cuts off.

A sharp pain lances through my chest, but I tell myself it's just a coincidence. He's just busy.

I open our text history, and the last message he sent me makes my eyes well up again.

"I love you so much I can't imagine a life without you. Tonight we'll celebrate our anniversary-we deserve it."

Nostalgia, tangled with a fresh, sharp pain, swallows me whole. It wasn't even a real anniversary. We just celebrated every month we were married.

Two years and two months. That's how long we've been married.

My fingers hover over the keyboard for a second too long before I start to type. My first test.

"Love, I have a surprise for you. Where are you? I can't wait to see your reaction."

My heart pounds so hard it's a deafening roar in my ears. My hands tremble as I stare at the screen. A read receipt appears almost instantly.

But for long, agonizing minutes, there's no response. Then I look up and see a car pull up to the clinic-a car I know well.

My phone buzzes in my hand just as I see the man I love get out, and rush into the clinic.

My soul fractures. I lower my gaze and read his message.

"Sorry, Ivanna, now's not a good time. I'm in the middle of something important. I'm not in the mood for surprises today."

If I thought my heart was broken before, now I know it's been ground to dust. Completely obliterated.

Why are you lying to me?

"Why did you do this?" I whisper, the disappointment so sharp it's a physical ache.

Viena returns minutes later, and one look at her face tells me everything. There's no good news.

She sinks into the chair beside me, pale and shaking, and takes a long sip from the glass of water I'd ordered but never touched.

"Ivy... Abigail lost the baby." Her voice is barely a whisper. "Shane was arriving just as I was leaving. I saw him holding her... the way he held her... as if they were lovers."

The word lovers cracks like a whip across my back. I close my eyes and let the wave of pain and frustration wash over me.

How could a day that started so wonderfully turn this toxic?

"What are you going to do?" my friend asks.

I meet her gaze, my mind a complete blank. I shrug. I have no plan.

"I'll go home," I say, my voice hollow. "I'll wait for him there. Aurora will tell he I know. He has to face me. The Shane I know isn't a coward."

Viena looks at me, her expression pained, like she wants to argue. I can almost read the words on her face. "The Shane you know doesn't exist."

"Will you tell him about your pregnancy?"

I shake my head.

"I need to see what he has to say first. I'm still holding on to this tiny, stupid hope that it's all a misunderstanding."

Stupid?

Yes. I know I am.

But it's hard to just throw away all the love, all the devotion, in a single afternoon.

I want to hear his reasons. I need to know the truth before I decide what to do. If this ends my marriage, then so be it. And my child-this miracle-will be mine alone.

"Ivy..."

"It's decided, Viena. If Shane really cheated on me, if he asked Abigail to have his child, then he already made his choice."

I'll just act accordingly.

The house is empty and silent. It feels cold.

I knew Shane wouldn't be here, but arriving to an empty house feels so much worse than I imagined.

How can I ever look at this place the same way again? This house where we were supposed to be happy.

It's impossible.

I set my purse on the kitchen island and pour a glass of water. My throat is parched, and I down it in one go.

When I feel like my legs can hold me again, I move to the living room and wait. Phone in hand, I watch two hours pass, then three. My stomach growls, a hollow, empty ache.

I decide to call him. It hurts to even see his name in my contacts, the affectionate nickname I saved him under. But I force myself to stay strong. I can't be weak now.

The call goes straight to voicemail. I'm not surprised, but another piece of me breaks anyway.

A sharp knock at the door makes me jump. I know it's not Shane. He has a key, and I doubt knocking has suddenly become a formality between us.

I stand slowly, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass before I make my way to the door.

When I open it, I find Shane's lawyer. He's holding a briefcase, and the usual friendly warmth on his face is gone, replaced by a cold, professional mask.

"Mrs. Robinson. I'm here at your husband's request." His tone is clipped. "May I come in?"

My skin prickles with a sudden dread, but I nod numbly. I know, with a sickening certainty, that nothing good is about to happen.

I step aside, letting him pass, and follow him into the living room. He sits on the sofa and clicks open his briefcase.

I sink into the armchair opposite him, my mind reeling, not understanding any of this.

"Will you please tell me what's going on?" I ask, watching him pull out a sheaf of papers and a pen.

He looks up, his eyes peering at me over his glasses with a flicker of irritation. He nods once.

"This is the divorce agreement, ma'am."

If I weren't already sitting, my legs would have given out. My ears start to ring. My chest tightens until I can barely breathe.

"Can you repeat that?"

This has to be a mistake. Shane wouldn't do this to me. Not like this.

"I am Mr. Robinson's lawyer," he states, his voice devoid of any emotion. "And as his legal representative, I am presenting you with the divorce agreement. Please read it and sign."

He holds the document out. His hand is perfectly steady, a stark contrast to my own, which is trembling violently. I take it, my mouth bone dry, my heartbeat pounding in my throat.

"Why isn't Shane here? Why isn't he facing me with this... request?"

"Mr. Robinson has more important things to attend to," the lawyer says dismissively. "This is just a simple formality."

A punch to the gut would have hurt less. In two sentences, he's made it brutally clear how little I matter to the man I love-the man I thought I would spend my life with.

What changed so drastically? When? Was it all a lie?

I open the document, but the words swim on the first page. My head spins, and I snap it shut.

This has to be a sick joke. Two years of marriage, and the only thing he's offering me in this agreement is the return of the ring I bought for him.

A choked sob escapes me. I can't believe it.

It's not that I ever cared about Shane's money. But to be thrown out on the street without so much as an explanation? To have the ring I worked so hard to save for returned to me like a piece of trash?

Humiliating.

I swallow hard, my eyes fixed on the lawyer. He holds out a small cardboard envelope. I assume the ring is inside.

My hand shakes as I take that, too.

And then, out of pure, white-hot rage, I reach for the pen. I find the signature lines, and without a second thought, I sign.

Each stroke of the pen feels like I'm signing away a piece of my soul.

It's the final goodbye to everything we could have been, everything that is now ruined.

And it's the goodbye he didn't have the balls to give me himself.

Ivanna Taylor

Four years later

Milo Prince is a world-class idiot. It's not enough that he runs me ragged all day; now he expects me to orchestrate his parties, doing the work of an entire events team, right down to the catering.

All for a damn bonus.

"Ivanna, did you confirm the valet parking? I don't want any bottlenecks when the guests start arriving."

I roll my eyes the moment my back is turned to him. Taking a deep breath, I plaster on my best fake smile before turning around.

"Everything is ready, Mr. Prince. Two attendants have been hired for each wing of the parking area, and they have clear instructions regarding the makes and models expected tonight."

Milo's smile is pure arrogance. I keep my disgust locked away, refusing to let him see how ridiculous I find him. He's my boss, after all.

"That's fine. My guests are high-caliber; they expect nothing less from me.

He turns and lifts the whiskey decanter from his bar. He pours himself a generous glass, the amber liquid well above a standard pour, and takes a long swallow before returning to his nonsense.

"Everything else?"

"In order and on schedule, sir."

He nods again, takes another drink, and his eyes rake over me before his face twists into a grimace.

"I assume you're going to change, right? I pay you a handsome bonus. Surely you can afford a decent wardrobe, yet you insist on wearing those-" He gestures at my clothes with distaste. "-Rags."

I remind myself that huffing in his face would be unprofessional, so I bite my tongue before answering. He knows this is how I always dress. It's not going to change. Aston made that very clear to him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't like to waste my money, and my attire meets the company's dress code. Tonight, I'll be behind the scenes, managing the staff. There's no need for a flashy outfit when I'll be coordinating platters and giving orders."

Milo narrows his eyes at me. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he lists all the reasons I need to change-starting with the fact that I look awful.

But I already know that. He doesn't need to tell me.

"Can you at least take off those glasses?" he insists. He looks like it physically pains him to even ask.

"If I do that, you lose your assistant, sir." I hide the small smile that tugs at my lips.

I don't actually need glasses; my vision is perfect. I only wear them because Aston Myers himself suggested it. Something about his friend having a particular distaste for baggy clothes and thick-rimmed glasses. And since I have no desire to be on the radar of a man who chases every woman who crosses his path, I've made sure to look as unattractive as possible.

I think I hear him snort, but he turns away before I can confirm it. He takes another drink and adjusts his shirt, preparing to receive his guests.

"Did you call Marissa?"

"Yes, she should be arriving soon," I confirm, swallowing the bile that rises in my throat at having to manage his lovers, too.

But what choice do I have? It's my job.

"Good. You can go down now and make sure everything is perfect. Once about fifty guests have arrived, send me a message so I can make my entrance."

I nod at his order and turn to leave his office. I can't stand him, but I have to endure it. I need this job. I fought too hard for this position to throw it away over something as trivial as hating my boss.

I escape that cramped space and move through his mansion as if it were my own. I know it like the back of my hand. It's not that I've been here long-Milo only moved to Boston a week ago-but he has worked me so hard these past few days that I could walk these halls with my eyes closed.

And even though I complain about the workload, at least it has kept me busy. It's kept me from dwelling on the fact that I'm back in the city that witnessed my downfall, the place where I lost everything.

I shake the unwelcome thoughts from my head and reach the lower floor, my mind buzzing with last-minute orders and checks. Everything is as it should be. At eight o'clock sharp, the guests begin to arrive.

From my command post in the kitchens, I have the entire event under control. There have been no issues at the doors, and none in the parking area. I made sure every detail was covered so I could handle the catering myself. Milo may be a millionaire, but he's a first-rate cheapskate and refused to hire anyone else.

When Marissa arrives, I have to leave my hiding spot to escort her to her millionaire lover. Standing next to her, a wave of inferiority threatens to wash over me, but I remind myself that I don't want to look good. She's stunning in a dress I'm sure Milo will appreciate.

"Good evening, Marissa. Welcome. If you'll come with me, please?"

I'm polite and respectful because it's my job. Even though I have no reason to hate her, the truth is that Marissa is just another woman passing through Milo's life. I can't even say I like her; I'd be lying. Every woman I've met in his circle, without exception, is interested in his money and will do anything for a night of his attention.

"Where is Milo?" she asks, her voice shrill behind me.

"In his office, waiting for you before he makes his appearance."

"Aww, how sweet. You can let a couple of my friends in, can't you? They aren't on the list."

Without looking back, I answer, "I could, but only with Mr. Prince's approval."

"Oh, come on, Ivanna. Milo won't say anything. They're a useful couple to have in your circle. Very influential, among the richest in the city. The only reason they wouldn't have an invitation is if you screwed up."

I almost laugh at her accusation. I don't give a damn what she thinks I did right or wrong.

We move to the elevator that leads to the upper floors, and I press the button, holding the doors open.

"That's a decision for my boss to make, Marissa." I extend my hand, gesturing for her to enter the elevator. "Mr. Prince is waiting for you."

She glares at me, looking like she's holding back a torrent of insults, her face tight with frustration at her inability to order me around. She stalks past me, heels clacking, hips swaying. Once inside, she looks at me with her chin held high, her attitude dripping with arrogance.

"Shane Robinson should have been at the top of that list. And I'll make sure Milo knows it."

Luckily, the doors slide shut, and I'm not left exposed to her while I process the impact of that name.

Hearing it is like a slap in the face, coming out of nowhere.

I knew the risks of coming back to this city, but I told myself Boston was too big, and Milo too conceited to rub elbows with someone who would be his competition. I convinced myself of that, just so I could accept the fact that I had to come here if I wanted to keep my job.

Knowing that Shane could show up here, if Marissa gets her way with Milo, makes a knot tighten in my throat. But I tell myself it's over. It can't possibly hurt more than what he already did to me four years ago.

I walk away from the elevator and return to the kitchens. A cold sweat breaks out across my skin. I need a break. I need a drink.

Slowly, I pull myself together. I try to push Marissa's words from my mind, especially the part that delivered news I never asked for.

A useful couple to have in your circle...

I don't know if it's a good idea to dig into that right now. The urge to do a quick Google search is overwhelming, but I fight it down. I can't fall into that trap. I've managed four years with zero contact. I'm not breaking that streak tonight.

I focus on my work, organizing everything from the kitchens. An hour later, I'm sweating from the heat when my phone buzzes. It's Milo.

"Ivanna, I sent someone to the kitchens looking for you. See to her."

I suppress a huff at his order. I'm doing this for a reason, I remind myself. A very important one.

I leave the trays I was organizing and head to the kitchen entrance. The last person on earth I wanted to see tonight stops dead in front of me.

Abigail Allen.

She wears a calm, innocent expression, but the moment her eyes land on me, when she realizes who I am, raw surprise flashes across her features.

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Her eyes rake over me, taking in every detail, from my glasses to my cheap, baggy clothes.

A slow, malicious smile spreads across her lips.

I brace myself, fighting the urge to use both my words and my fists on her smug face.

"Who would have guessed you'd be hiding in here, like a sewer rat?" she mocks, crossing her arms and looking down at me with an air of superiority.

"That's for people who have something to hide, sweetheart. And I'm not one of them," I reply, refusing to give her the satisfaction.

She raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Oh, no? Then where have you been? After you ran off like the coward you are, left with nothing-just like you deserved-I didn't think you'd dare show your face around here again. But I see you're still making bad decisions."

I roll my eyes. Of course she'd bring that up-the divorce, Shane demanding I walk away with nothing.

"Some of us value our dignity more, Abigail. Are you the person who was sent to the kitchen? This is a restricted area for staff only..."

When she sees I'm not reacting to her venom, she grimaces, but she presses on, unable to resist a confrontation.

"From the proud wife of millionaire magnate Shane Robinson to... a server? Is that what you are now?" She looks at me with disgust. "You don't even look the part. You just look... pitiful. Why did you come back, Ivanna? Are you planning to crawl back to Shane and humiliate yourself all over again?"

Her words don't surprise me; I expected nothing less from her.

But despite her apparent confidence, I can see the flicker of insecurity in her eyes, the same one that always appeared whenever I was around. And I take advantage of it. He may have cheated on me with her, but I'll be damned if I let her treat me like this without fighting back.

"It's none of your business what I am or what I'm doing here. Crawl back to Shane? Why would I want to do that? You can have him, if you're so worried about guarding him from me."

"Well, you should know we're engaged. It's how it always should have been," she announces, and though a pang of hurt hits my chest, I can't say I'm surprised.

At this point, after four years, the news that my ex-husband is marrying his mistress is hardly a shock.