The caption read: Celebrating the new house with the queen of my life. Finally, a woman who brings something to the table. #NewBeginnings #Upgrade
I felt a tear slide down my cheek, hot and angry.
The nurse walked in to check my vitals. She was an older woman with kind eyes. She looked around the empty room, then at me.
“Is the father coming, honey?” she asked gently. “We need the birth certificate information.”
I looked at my son. I looked at my daughter.
“No,” I said, my voice hardening into steel. “He made his choice.”
The door opened the next morning.
I was breastfeeding Leo, exhaustion pulling at my eyelids. Ethan walked in. He smelled of stale bourbon and Isabella’s cloying, expensive perfume. He was wearing the same suit from the night before, now rumpled.
He wasn’t holding flowers. He wasn’t holding a teddy bear.
He was holding a thick manila envelope.
He didn’t look at the babies. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He walked to the foot of the bed and tossed the envelope onto the blanket near my feet.
“We need to talk,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Isabella thinks… I mean, I think… this isn’t working.”
Part 3: The Severance
I adjusted Leo, covering him with a blanket. I looked at Ethan calmly.
“You missed the birth,” I said. “Leo is six pounds, four ounces. Mia is five pounds, nine ounces.”
“Yeah, great, whatever,” Ethan muttered, waving his hand as if swatting away a fly. “Look, Clara, let’s cut to the chase. I’m filing for divorce.”
He pointed to the papers. “I’m with Isabella now. It’s serious. She has resources, Clara. Real resources. She can give a child a future—private schools, travel, connections. You… you have nothing.”
He walked over to the bassinets and looked down. For the first time, a flicker of interest crossed his face, but it was focused entirely on the blue blanket.
“I’ll take the boy,” he said.
I froze. “Excuse me?”
“Leo,” he clarified. “I’ll take Leo. He’s the heir. He carries the name. Isabella agrees—a boy is manageable. We can mold him.”
He looked at the pink bassinets with disdain. “You can keep the girl. Raising two is too much work, especially for a single mom with no income. And frankly, Clara, you’re completely useless. You have no job, no ambition. At least I can save one of them from a life of mediocrity.”
My blood ran cold. It felt like the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
“You want to split the twins?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet. “Because your mistress only wants a male accessory? Because she doesn’t want the work of a daughter?”
“I want my son,” Ethan sneered. “And since I own the house—well, since we own the house—I have the stability. The judge will give him to me. You’ll be living in a studio apartment eating ramen. I’ll have the Manor.”
I gently placed Leo back in his bassinet. I picked up the divorce papers. I flipped through them. He had already signed them. He was ceding all custody of “Female Child” to me and demanding full custody of “Male Child.”
It was monstrous. It was bureaucratic evil.
I looked up at him. I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg.
I smiled.
It wasn’t a nice smile. It was the smile of a predator that has just realized the trap has been sprung.
“You think you own the house, Ethan?” I asked softly.
“Isabella bought it cash yesterday. It’s done,” he bragged. “She paid off the bank. The deed is in the safe. Sign the papers, Clara. Don’t make this ugly. You can’t win against money.”
“Get out,” I said.
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