e Pres

My stomach churned, a familiar wave of nausea washing over me. I pressed my other hand to my belly,

Mr. Hatfield is requesting your presence for dinner tonight. He'll

himself. Still, the hospital scene from yesterday replayed in my mind. The tenderness i

familiar knot of tension tightened in my chest, a physiological response to his presence that I despised. My body, stupid and betraying, remembered all

enting nausea of early pregnancy? He hadn't noticed at the hospital, too

ingly soft. He gestured to the empty

ad been our anniversary, a night he spent with Brie

oing?" I asked,

e downtown," he replied.

had so many perfunctory business dinners disguised as romantic outings. Wher

, ingrained over years of marriage, was still a reflex I couldn't entirely con

ear. I would play the part of the compliant wife one last time. I would keep my secret safe. I would fi

rivate dining room, a plush, velvet-lined box designed for intimate conversations t

briefly touching the small of my back as I sat down. The touch, brief as it was, still sent a

e low, leaning forward slight

dining area. A flurry of hushed whispers. Then, Arlo' s personal aide,

an incident. She... she collapsed. High fever, abdominal pain. The doctors

ead, a dark echo of my own secret. My stomach churned, a wave of dizziness threatening to over

bitter, metallic taste in my mouth. His fake pregnancy,

aced by a familiar mask of steely resolve. "Get the car ready. Immediately. And keep me updated on her condition every

ven nod, a whirlwind of tail

to the car, a dull ache in my lower abdomen, a growing pressure in my head. I remember the

rip in my arm. My head throbbed. Panic fl

us quite a scare. Severe dehydration, low blood pressure... and some e

voice a weak whisper. My heart leaped

tors are being cautious." He hung up, his eyes scanning me. "Mr. Hatfield wanted to ensure you were well. He's still with Ms. Yang." He turned to the

quickly as

. Hatfield. The baby is strong. But you need to take it easy. Stress is

cy. The words ech

"Did you see Ms. Yang's suite? Top floor, roses imported from Colombia, a personal chef. And Mr

y here, alone, truly pregnant, and battling my own silent war. The stark contrast was a cruel testament to his priorities. B

ady waiting, a stack of papers in hand. I went directly to her office. "Send them

t. My final act of defiance. The official end. I timed it perfectly. With the express delivery, he wouldn't receive them u

focating shadow. This child would know love, respect, and a mother who put them first. No m