7 Chapter 7
I just turned a page in my book, dismissing her completely. She stood there for another moment, waiting, but my eyes never left the page. Finally, she broke the silence. “Rannie, if you don’t mind me asking… you and Mr. Charlotte have been married for ten years. Why have you never had a child?”
The word “child” hit me like a punch to the gut. A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest.
That evening, when Wright came home, I couldn’t stop myself. I looked at him directly and asked, “Wright, are you still not prepared to become a father?”
He went completely still. His face hardened, clouded with a sudden discomfort. He set his whiskey glass down on the table with a careful, deliberate motion, his eyes avoiding mine. “Why are you asking me this now?” His voice was ice.
His reaction
was all the answer I needed. “It’s nothing. Forget I said it.”
The truth was, Wright and I were supposed to have a child once. It was early in our marriage, before he had clawed his way to the CEO position at Charlotte Holdings. When I told him I was pregnant, he had frowned and shaken his head.
“This is the wrong time for a baby, Rannie. I haven’t even made it to the top yet. I’m not in a position to be a good father. You need to terminate the
pregnancy.”
For years, Wright had sold me the lie that he wasn’t ready for fatherhood–that the
responsibility was too great. But now, it was clear he was perfectly willing to father a child with another woman.
I had seen him looking at websites for high–end, luxury nurseries just last week. It all made sense now. That night, a message from Lucia appeared on my phone: a picture of a positive pregnancy test.
It was followed a moment later by another text.MG, so sorry, Rannie! I meant to send that to my boyfriend. Your profile pics are just so similar, I clicked the wrong one.”
Our profile pictures were similar–a black and white shot from our graduation day at Yale.
I ignored her pathetic attempt at a taunt. But the ultrasound photo she included in the message was a gut–wrenching reminder of the child I had lost.
An hour later, her patience wore out. A wall of text messages flooded my screen.
“Let’s just be real, Rannie. The baby is Wright’s.”
“You must have noticed, right? For the past three years, ever since I started working for him, he’s been staying late, coming home less. He’s not working. He’s been busy making a baby with
me.”
02:29
7 Chapter 7
“How much do you honestly think he loves you? Those blue gifts were just my leftovers. I got first pick.”
“That blue diamond ring was for show. It was damage control after he bought me the vintage car. He buys you a boring blue suit for public appearances, but he buys me lingerie you’d never
have the nerve to wear.”
“I told him I was pregnant today. He immediately started looking at penthouses for me. He’s already researching the best nannies and postpartum nurses in New York.”
“Rannie, you just got lucky. You caught him when he was young and naive. Wright never loved you. He was just infatuated with a pretty face. I’m younger, I’m more beautiful, and I’m carrying his heir. You can’t compete with that.”
I thought I had prepared myself for this, but her words were like acid, and they brought hot tears to my eyes.
How could a decade of marriage stand a chance against a young, fertile mistress?
I didn’t block her number. I let the stream of hateful, provocative messages continue.
In one week, I would be gone. I would sever every connection to this life.
The next day, she sent me a copy of the deed to a new penthouse on the Upper East Side.
