I covered my mouth with both hands, a deep, ragged sob tearing its way up my throat.
Two.
Not one. Two lives growing inside me while the world, led by the man I loved, had called me a whore. Two tiny hearts beating in perfect unison while David drained our bank accounts. Two miracles while Peyton handed me a pen to sign my life away.
Behind me, I heard the sound of someone collapsing.
David sank into the small vinyl visitor’s chair as if the bones had been surgically removed from his legs. He dropped his espresso cup onto the floor; it shattered, dark liquid splashing across his polished leather shoes.
“No,” David whispered, his eyes wide with a horrific realization. He looked at me, then at the monitor, then at his own hands. “No, no, no.”
Peyton stared at the screen, her face draining of all color until she looked like a wax figure. The trap she had so meticulously set—convincing David to get the vasectomy behind my back, feeding his paranoia, planting the seeds of doubt, pushing him to leave—had just spectacularly backfired. She had tried to manufacture a betrayal, only to get caught in the jaws of basic biology.
I slowly sat up on the examination table. Dr. Sutton handed me a warm towel to wipe the gel from my stomach. I cleaned myself off, my hands remarkably steady now. The trembling was gone.
I ignored David entirely. I looked directly at Peyton, who was shivering by the door.
“You can pick up your pen now, Peyton,” I said, my voice eerily calm, resonating in the quiet room. “I won’t be needing it.”
I reached out, picked up the black leather folder containing the divorce papers from the metal tray, and casually shoved it off the edge. It hit the floor, landing right in the puddle of spilled espresso, staining the pristine legal documents dark brown.
“Lauren,” David gasped, suddenly surging out of his chair. He reached a shaking hand toward me, tears welling in his eyes. “Lauren, my god, I didn’t know. I was confused. She… she told me things—”
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, the authority in my voice surprising even myself. The sound was like a whip cracking. David recoiled as if I had physically struck him.
I looked at Dr. Sutton, who was watching the scene with quiet approval. “Can I have copies of those ultrasound photos, Doctor? I believe my attorney is going to need them immediately.”
“Of course,” Dr. Sutton said. She pressed a button on the console. The machine whirred, printing the images. She tore the glossy paper from the slot and handed them to me.
It felt like she was handing me a loaded weapon.
I pulled my clothes back on, ignoring the two silent, shattered people in the room. I walked out, my heels clicking down the hallway, leaving them drowning in the silence of two tiny, echoing heartbeats.
As the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind me, I walked straight out of the clinic and into the blinding Arizona sun. The heat felt magnificent.
I climbed into the driver’s seat of my sedan, locked the doors, pulled my phone from my purse, and dialed.
Evelyn Reed answered on the second ring.
“Evelyn,” I said, my voice vibrating with a new, dangerous energy. “Freeze everything. I have the proof.”
“Good,” my lawyer replied, her voice practically purring with predatory delight. Evelyn was a shark in a tailored suit, a woman who specialized in dismantling arrogant men. “Because Peyton just played her final card. And Lauren? You’re not going to believe what she just announced to the world.”
I gripped the steering wheel. “What did she do?”
“She told his mother she’s pregnant.”
Chapter 5: The Immaculate Deception
2 months before I told my husband I was pregnant, he had a secret vasectomy. he accused me of cheating, drained our bank accounts, and left me for his mistress. He brought her to my first ultrasound to force me to sign away our house. “Tell me how far along this bastard is,” he sneered at the doctor. His mistress smirked. The doctor stared at the monitor, then looked dead at him. At that moment, I still didn’t know the most devastating shock was waiting for me at the ultrasound.
Part 4 of 8
