Discovered His Will, Faked My Death

Elyse POV:

The clinic was cold, sterile. The nurse led me to the ultrasound room, her movements efficient, her face kind but distant. I lay back on the examination table, my heart pounding against my ribs.

The doctor pointed at the screen. A tiny, fully formed baby, floating in a dark sea. He stretched, kicked, a perfect miniature human. "He's beautiful, Elyse," she said, her voice soft. "And perfectly healthy. Look how strong his heartbeat is."

She held my gaze, her expression solemn. "Are you absolutely sure you want to proceed with this, Elyse? At eight months, it's not only dangerous for you, but we also have to consider the baby. He can feel pain, you know. He's developed enough to register it."

My hand flew to my belly, covering the warm mound. Pain. My baby feeling pain. The thought was unbearable. I closed my eyes, a silent scream building in my chest. No. I couldn't. I just couldn't.

"I need more time," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. "Just… a little more time to think."

The doctor nodded, her expression understanding. "Of course. Just be careful, Elyse. Any strenuous activity could trigger early labor."

I walked out of the clinic, the fluorescent lights making me feel colder than ever. My body felt like ice. I reached the exit, my hand on the door, when I saw him.

Grayson.

He was leaning against a sleek black car, wearing an impeccably tailored suit, looking utterly detached, regal, and dangerous. My breath caught in my throat. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. Recognition, then a flash of something else, something I couldn't quite decipher, crossed his face.

He walked towards me, his steps deliberate, unhurried. Before I could react, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His grip was tight, almost painful.

"Are you done with your little charade, Elyse?" he asked, his voice low, laced with irritation. He rubbed his temples, a gesture of annoyance. "The will, the divorce papers, this stunt at the clinic. It's childish. I told you, it's just a formality for Kira. To keep her calm. She's fragile, you know that."

Fragile. Always Kira. Always her delicate heart, her precious needs. And what about me? What about the years I' d given him? The sacrifices?

My vision blurred. A bitter, hysterical laugh tried to escape me, but it was trapped in my throat. My voice, when it came out, was a ragged whisper. "And what about me, Grayson? What have I received from you? What did I ever get for my seven years of devotion?"

He flinched, his jaw tightening. For once, he had no answer.

I yanked my hand free, the force of it surprising even myself. The years of suppressed hurt, the anger, the bitter disappointment-it all exploded in that one desperate motion.

"I gave you everything, Grayson!" I cried, my voice cracking. "My youth, my career, my loyalty! I was there when you almost died from that ulcer, remember? You were 'too busy' for our anniversary, but I found you bleeding in that hotel room. I held your hand in the ER. And then I went home, alone, to a cold bed."

"And the baby," I continued, tears streaming down my face. "Do you even remember coming to one prenatal appointment? One? No. You were always off with Kira, making sure she was taken care of, making sure she was 'calm.' Was I that cheap to you, Grayson? So easily discarded?"

The words poured out, a torrent of pain and rage. He stood there, frozen, his face draining of color. His eyes widened, a flicker of genuine shock, then horror.

"You... you knew?" he stammered, his voice choked. "All this time? You knew?"

I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. My vision was swimming, but I forced myself to meet his terrified gaze. "I didn't say anything, Grayson. But that doesn't mean I was stupid. I just kept hoping. Hoping you would wake up. Hoping you would remember who I was, what we were." I dug my fingernails into my palms, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the agony in my chest. "But I can't do it anymore. I can't lie to myself."

A wave of regret, of something akin to shame, crossed his face. But it was too late. Far too late.

"I will keep this baby, Grayson," I declared, each word a hammer blow. "And he will have nothing to do with you. Nothing."

I turned, my back ramrod straight, and walked away. He reached out, his hand hovering in the air, but he didn't touch me. He couldn't.

I kept walking, focusing on the road ahead. I would take care of my baby. Alone.

Dalton called later that day, his voice grave. "Elyse, Grayson is refusing to sign the divorce papers." My heart sank. "He's threatening to fight for full custody. He says he'll use every resource he has to take the child."

Dalton sounded genuinely worried. "He's a powerful man, Elyse. A custody battle could drag on for years. And his legal team… they're ruthless."

I ran my hand over my swollen belly. My child. My only hope. What was I to do? Grayson had the money, the power, the connections. I had nothing but my love for this baby. No, that wasn't true. I had my resolve.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "I won't let him win, Dalton," I said, my voice firm, clear. "My child will not be born into this chaos. I will find a way to make him agree."