The Unwanted Wife Is A Medical Genius

The next morning, the Manhattan rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and grey.

Elinor walked from the damp street into a warm, bustling cafe. The bell above the door chimed.

Farrah Merrill waved from a corner booth. Farrah's sharp eyes immediately noticed Elinor's pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes.

Elinor walked over and sat down. She placed her small overnight bag on the floor by her feet.

"You look like hell," Farrah said bluntly.

Elinor didn't smile. She looked down at the wooden table. "Gavin initiated the divorce last night."

Farrah slammed her coffee cup down. The dark liquid splashed over the rim.

"That son of a bitch!" Farrah cursed loudly. Several heads turned toward their booth. "And that manipulative snake Bella. I knew she was back in town."

A waiter walked past their table carrying a tray of freshly roasted espresso.

The strong, bitter smell of roasting coffee beans suddenly overwhelmed Elinor's senses. It hit the back of her throat like a physical assault.

Elinor gagged. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Her face turned a sickly shade of green. Her stomach he heave violently.

Farrah quickly grabbed a stack of napkins. "Hey, hey, are you okay? Food poisoning?"

Elinor shook her head frantically, swallowing back the bile. She took a shallow breath through her mouth.

"I missed my period," Elinor whispered, her eyes wide with sudden realization. "By two weeks."

Farrah's eyes widened. The anger on her face vanished, replaced by clinical sharpness. She immediately stood up, grabbed Elinor's arm, and dragged her out of the cafe.

Farrah drove them straight to the nearby hospital clinic where she worked.

Elinor sat nervously in the sterile clinic waiting room. The smell of antiseptic made her stomach churn again, but she focused on the ticking clock on the wall.

A nurse called her name. She led Elinor into a back room for a blood test and a quick ultrasound.

Thirty minutes later, the doctor walked in. He handed Elinor the official lab results.

"Congratulations, Ms. Perez," the doctor said. "You are exactly six weeks pregnant."

Elinor stared at the paper. She looked at the supplementary rapid test attached to the file. Two stark pink lines.

Her mind raced. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She pressed a hand flat against her lower abdomen.

Farrah paced the small room. She stopped and looked at Elinor. "Are you going to tell Gavin about the baby?"

Elinor firmly shook her head. Her jaw set with absolute resolve.

"No. This baby is mine alone. He made his choice."

She folded the medical report. She stuffed it deep into the zippered pocket of her handbag, hiding the evidence completely.

Elinor looked at her watch. She realized she still had to drop off the supplementary notarized rejection forms her lawyer had rushed to prepare that morning. The standard divorce agreement she signed last night wasn't enough to permanently block the forced asset transfer; she needed to submit this specific, legally binding document directly to his corporate legal team to officially and permanently reject his money.

"I can drop that off for you," Farrah offered, pointing to the manila envelope sticking out of Elinor's bag.

"No," Elinor insisted. "I need to handle my own closure."

Elinor took a yellow cab from the hospital to the towering Corbett corporate headquarters in Midtown.

She walked through the heavy revolving glass doors. She stepped into the expansive marble lobby. The ceilings were impossibly high. The air was cold and smelled of expensive floor wax.

The receptionist, Janice, looked up. Her eyes widened in surprise to see Elinor arriving in a simple trench coat, her face pale and completely devoid of the usual flawless, radiant makeup she always wore as the poised Corbett matriarch.

Elinor approached the front desk. She pulled the signed waiver from her bag.

Before she could hand it over, a sharp, melodic voice called out from behind her.

"Elinor? Is that you?"

Elinor turned around. Her grip on the envelope tightened instantly.

Bella Fitzgerald stood there. She wore a pristine, designer beige trench coat. Her hair was perfectly styled. She was holding two cups of artisanal coffee.

Bella smiled sweetly. Her eyes quickly scanned Elinor's simple, non-designer outfit, a glint of triumph flashing in her pupils.

Bella stepped closer. The scent of her signature floral perfume hit Elinor's nose. It was identical to the scent on Gavin's coat the night before.