Secret Baby: The Jilted Wife's Final Goodbye
I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant.
But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over.
"Sign it,"
He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise.
I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth.
"It's just cramps,"
I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could.
Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus.
Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down.
He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach.
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Chapter 5
The dinner was a blur of noise and light. Nancy picked at her food, her throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper.
Halfway through the main course, Julian's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen. His face went pale.
He stood up abruptly. Arthur was in the middle of a toast about family legacy.
"I have to go," Julian said.
The table went silent.
"Julian?" his mother, Victoria, asked.
"It's Fiona," he said. "She's... having an episode. Severe nerve pain. She needs me."
He looked at Nancy. There was no apology in his eyes, only urgency.
"You can take a taxi back," he said.
And then he left. He walked out of his father's house, leaving his wife alone at the table with twenty guests staring at her.
Nancy felt the blood rush to her face. The humiliation was hotter than the allergic reaction.
"He has a... business merger," Nancy said to the table, her voice shaking but clear. "Very time-sensitive. He apologizes."
Arthur looked at her from the head of the table. His old, sharp eyes lingered on her flushed face. He knew. But he nodded.
Nancy lasted ten more minutes. Then she excused herself.
She walked out of the estate. It had started to rain. A cold, hard downpour.
She declined the valet's offer to call a car. She needed air. She walked to the gate, the rain soaking her silk dress.
She made it to a flowerbed before her stomach rebelled. She vomited violently, her body expelling the rest of the toxins and the stress. To any onlooker, it looked like a reaction to bad shellfish or too much wine, not pregnancy.
She got a taxi back to the apartment and collapsed on the sofa.
At 2:00 AM, her phone rang.
It was Sebastian, Julian's best friend. Sebastian was a chaos agent, a man who thrived on drama and cared little for propriety.
"Nancy," Sebastian shouted over a thumping bass line. "You need to come get him."
"Where is he?" she whispered.
"The Box. He's wasted, Nancy. He's trying to fight the bouncers."
"Call Fiona," Nancy said bitterly. "She's the one he left for."
Sebastian laughed, a cruel sound. "Fiona took his platinum card and went home hours ago. She doesn't do 'messy'. You're the wife. It's your job. Besides, his security detail is stuck in traffic on the bridge. If the press sees him like this, the stock tanks. Do you want that on your conscience?"
Nancy closed her eyes. Fiona took the card. Of course she did.
"I'm coming," she said.
She put on a trench coat over her pajamas. She grabbed the keys to the black Range Rover kept in the garage for 'family errands'-a tank of a car that felt safe.
The club was a nightmare of neon and smoke. She found Julian in a private booth. He was slumped sideways, his tie undone, a bottle of vodka half-empty in front of him.
Sebastian was sitting across from him, looking bored.
"Took you long enough," Sebastian sneered. "Traffic bad in the suburbs?"
Nancy ignored him. She walked to Julian.
"Julian," she said, shaking his shoulder. "Time to go."
He opened his eyes. They were unfocused, red-rimmed.
"Nancy?" he slurred. Then his face twisted. "Liar. You're all liars."
He shoved her.
It was a clumsy, drunken push, but Nancy wasn't expecting it. She stumbled back. Her hip checked the sharp corner of the glass table.
The corner dug into her lower abdomen.
Pain flared-sharp and terrifying.
Nancy gasped, clutching her stomach. She doubled over, her face going white.
"Hey!" Sebastian stood up, alarmed. He saw the way she protected her midsection. "Easy, Jules."
Nancy bit her lip until it tasted like copper. Please be okay. Please, baby, be okay.
She forced herself to straighten up. She grabbed Julian's arm, her grip surprisingly strong.
"We are leaving," she hissed. "Now."
Julian blinked, cowed by her intensity. He let her pull him up. He leaned his entire weight on her.
Nancy staggered under the burden, her stomach throbbing, but she didn't let go. She dragged him toward the exit.