His Kingdom for My Unborn Child

I hung up and, ignoring the doctor's protests, discharged myself and went straight back to our Park Avenue penthouse.

When I pushed open the master bedroom door, I found Penelope clinging to Julian.

She was draped in one of my silk nightgowns, the fabric so sheer it left nothing to the imagination.

She wore nothing underneath. Her full breasts were pressed against Julian's arm, the movement deliberate with every breath she took.

Julian sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, a financial report in his hand, a slight frown creasing his brow.

He tried to pull his arm away, his voice edged with exasperation. "Penelope, put some proper clothes on. I'm your guardian. This isn't appropriate."

Penelope didn't budge.

Instead, she burrowed deeper into his side, her lower lip trembling as her eyes welled with tears.

"Julian, don't you want me anymore? Am I not pretty?"

"I just want a hug. You always used to hug me. Did I do something wrong? Sob..."

The cloying baby talk, coming from her mature, seductive body, made my stomach churn.

Julian's resolve crumbled.

He sighed, no longer pushing her away, and patted her back. "Stop crying. That's not what I meant. Of course I care about you."

Penelope buried her face in the crook of his neck with a contented sigh.

But from an angle Julian couldn't see, she lifted her head, her eyes locking onto mine in the doorway.

There was no childish innocence in her gaze—only brazen provocation and a victor's smirk.

I didn't storm in and pull them apart as I might have before. I just watched them, a frozen stillness settling over my heart.

Julian finally noticed me.

He shot to his feet as if electrocuted, shoving Penelope away so hard she stumbled and collided with the nightstand.

Ignoring her cry of pain, he rushed toward me, his face a mask of flustered panic. "Clara, you're back? How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?"

He tried to cover his embarrassment, reaching for me. "Don't just stand there, come lie down. That was nothing. Penelope was just having one of her tantrums. You know she doesn't mean anything by it, so don't take it to heart."

I sidestepped his touch.

He had just been holding her. The thought was repulsive.

Julian’s hand hung awkwardly in the air before he let it fall.

He took a deep breath, his voice softening into a gentle coo. "I know you're grieving. About the baby... my heart is broken too. But we have to look to the future. The doctor said it was a problem with your body. Once you've recovered, we can definitely have another child."

Another child? The thought was a bitter sneer in my mind. There would be no more children. Not with him. But I was too tired to fight. I just gave a numb nod.

Seeing me nod, he visibly relaxed. "Good. Get some rest. I have some company business to handle in the study."

I nodded again, went to my closet, and started packing. Half an hour later, two suitcases stood ready.

After I finished, I remembered the nursery.

It was the nursery, filled with everything I had lovingly prepared for our unborn son, Leo. For five months, I'd collected treasures for him, including an antique silver rattle I'd won at a Sotheby's auction.

Even though the baby was gone, I wanted to take the rattle with me.

But when I pushed open the door, my blood ran cold.

The nursery was a war zone.

The crib Julian had assembled with his own hands was overturned. Custom-made plush toys were ripped to shreds, their expensive cashmere stuffing littering the floor like freshly fallen snow.

The whimsical mural I had commissioned was defaced with streaks of red paint that dripped down the wall like rivulets of blood.

And the tiny clothes I treasured most, along with the antique silver rattle, lay in a pile of refuse at Penelope's feet.

She stood in the center of the wreckage, a utility knife glinting in her hand.

She was methodically slicing the last pacifier to ribbons.

Hearing the door creak, she turned.

The innocent mask was gone.

She toyed with the blade, a sadistic smile playing on her lips, her eyes glinting with malice.

"Oops. You found me."

Her voice was no longer a sickening, childish lisp but a sharp blade of mockery.

"What a shame, all these adorable little things." She ground the silver rattle under her high heel. "But no matter. The little bastard won't be using them anyway. It’s bad luck to keep them around. I was just cleaning up for you. You should thank me."

I stared at her, my nails digging into my palms. "You're faking it."

"And you're only just now figuring that out?" Penelope let out a peal of laughter. "Only a sentimental fool like Julian would actually believe I'm mentally incompetent. And thanks to you being just as stupid, I’ve been able to keep this act up for so long."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How did you enjoy that little plant toxin?"

"It's a pity you didn't die from it. But oh, I am so glad that little bastard in your belly did."

Slap!

I swung with all the strength I had, the sound cracking through the air like a whip.

Penelope's head snapped to the side, a trickle of blood blooming at the corner of her mouth.

She didn't retaliate. Instead, a triumphant, wicked smile spread across her face.

The next second, she let out a piercing shriek and threw herself backward, tumbling dramatically down the grand staircase into the living room below.

"Ah—! Clara, don't kill me! I'm sorry!"

"Penelope!" Julian's horrified roar echoed from downstairs.

He sprinted over and scooped up Penelope, who lay crumpled and whimpering at the bottom of the stairs.

Covered in performative scrapes, Penelope trembled in his arms, pointing a shaky finger at me.

"Julian... Clara tried to kill me... She said I killed the baby..."

"I just accidentally broke something in the nursery... and she pushed me..."

Julian's head snapped up, his gaze locking on me.

His eyes blazed with disbelief and incandescent fury.

"Clara! Have you lost your mind?"

He roared, "Her mind is damaged! So what if she broke something? You don't push a person down a flight of stairs! You could have killed her!"

I stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the pathetic scene he was orchestrating.

"I didn't push her. She threw herself. And she's not brain-damaged—she's been faking it all along. She's the one who trashed the nursery and poisoned me. She just admitted everything!"

Seeing the cold hatred in my eyes, a flicker of doubt crossed Julian's face.

He looked down at the woman in his arms and asked, his voice serious, "Did you jump?"

"No! My head hurts so much..." Penelope immediately reverted to her childish persona, shaking her head frantically while looking at me in terror. "Julian, it wasn't me! I'm not a bad girl... Julian, don't send me away..."

At her display of pain and fear, Julian's flicker of doubt dissolved into pity.

"That's enough, Clara. How can you slander her like this?"

Julian met my mocking gaze, and his tone softened, but it was laced with condescension. "I know you're distraught over the baby, but that's no excuse. I've seen her medical reports, Clara. It's impossible for her to be faking. She's a child. Maybe she broke some toys by accident while playing. How could you hurt her over something so trivial?"

"Apologize to Penelope. Now. And I'll pretend this never happened."

Apologize?

Even killing her wouldn't be enough to satisfy the rage boiling inside me. And he wanted me to apologize.

In that instant, the last wisp of affection I held for Julian evaporated into thin air.

I descended the stairs, one deliberate step at a time.

Julian, thinking I was about to comply, let out a sigh of relief.

But I simply stopped in front of him and stated, my voice devoid of all emotion, "Julian, let's get a divorce."