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 8
Dr. Walker arrived in twenty minutes. He was a silver-haired man who had treated the Sterling family for decades.
Julian paced the living room while Walker examined Nancy on the sofa.
"It looks like a severe allergic reaction," Walker said, peering through his spectacles. "Did you eat anything unusual?"
Nancy opened her mouth to lie.
"The cake," Julian interrupted. He stopped pacing. He looked at Nancy with sudden realization. "You ate that cake yesterday. The one you made."
"It had hazelnuts in it," Julian said, his voice rising. "You're allergic to hazelnuts. Why the hell would you eat it?"
Nancy looked down at her hands. "I didn't think... I just wanted a taste."
"You could have died!" Julian yelled. He looked terrified.
Dr. Walker opened his medical bag. He pulled out a syringe and a vial.
"I need to administer a corticosteroid injection immediately to bring down the swelling," Walker said. "And an antihistamine."
Nancy's eyes widened. Corticosteroids. High dose. Dangerous for the first trimester.
"No!" She recoiled, curling her legs up. "No needles."
"Nancy, stop acting like a child," Julian snapped. "You need the shot."
"I can't!" Nancy cried. "I... I have a stomach bug too. I've been throwing up. I'm afraid the medicine will make it worse."
"That makes no sense," Julian argued. He opened his mouth to argue further, but his phone buzzed with an urgent notification from the London office, momentarily distracting him.
Nancy seized the moment. She lunged forward and grabbed Dr. Walker's wrist.
She looked into the doctor's eyes, her gaze intense and pleading. She put her hand protectively over her flat stomach, pressing down slightly.
"I cannot take the steroid," she whispered, her voice desperate. "It's not safe for my... condition. Please. You know what I mean."
Dr. Walker paused. He looked at her hand on her stomach. He looked at the desperation in her eyes. He was a smart man, and he knew Arthur Sterling was desperate for a great-grandchild. He understood instantly.
He slowly lowered the syringe.
Julian turned back around, shoving his phone into his pocket. "Is it done?"
Dr. Walker cleared his throat. He put the needle away.
"Actually, Mr. Sterling," Walker said smoothly. "Given her description of the vomiting... I suspect she might have a viral gastroenteritis complicating the allergy. The stomach flu. A heavy steroid might suppress her immune system too much right now."
Nancy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"So what do we do?" Julian demanded.
"Topical treatment," Walker said. He pulled out a tube of ointment. "This is a safe, mild cortisone cream. It will take longer, but it won't aggravate the virus."
He wrote a prescription. He packed his bag.
"Rest," Walker said to Nancy, giving her a significant look. "Hydrate. And come see me in my office next week for a... follow-up on the virus."
After the doctor left, Julian stood by the table, staring at the tube of cream.
"You are unbelievable," he said. "You'd rather suffer for days than take a shot? Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"
"I'm not trying to do anything," Nancy said.
"Fine." Julian grabbed the tube. "Turn around."
"I can do it myself."
"It's all over your back, Nancy. You can't reach it. Turn around."
Nancy hesitated. Then she slowly turned her back to him. She pulled her silk pajama top down, exposing her shoulders and spine.
The red welts were angry against her pale skin.
She heard Julian's sharp intake of breath. His anger seemed to evaporate, replaced by a heavy silence.
She felt the mattress dip as he sat behind her.
Then, she felt his fingertips.
The cream was cold, but his fingers were hot. He touched her skin with a gentleness that made her want to weep.
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