"It's our child, your child!"
"It's not my child!" Dave shouted. "Don't you dare pull that shit on me. When was the last time we had sex? Six months ago? Eight months? And you're two months pregnant?" He sneered. "Tell that to an idiot, woman!"
"Have you lost your mind?" she gasped. "Did you forget that we had sex two months ago after celebrating your birthday? We were both drunk, but we freaking knew what we did! How dare you deny it?" Anita was flabbergasted. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Eight years. After eight fucking years of childlessness, when her husband was supposed to be leaping for joy, he was denying their baby?
Dave was taken aback for a moment—as if he'd forgotten that part.
"So what if we had sex?" he snapped again. "I withdrew, Anita!" he sneered with disgust. "I always did."
"Y– you did what?" Anita's voice trembled and her body vibrated with tension.
Today, of all days, seemed to be her bad day. She hadn't even caught a breath from the heartbreak upon heartbreak her husband had been dishing out since she stepped into his office.
Dave, her husband of eight years, had been practicing withdrawal?
"Why?" she asked quietly, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps.
Anita was a calm woman. She didn't like argument. Screaming and yelling made her shaky, breathless, and vulnerable. She could even cry in the middle of it—not from weakness, no. But from the weight of too much trauma and emotions spilling all at once.
"Why not?" he sneered. "Why should I keep feeding your eggs with my sperm when we've got nothing to show for it? You're practically barren, Anita. And this nonsense prank you're trying to pull won't fool me."
She gasped, her head spinning. Barren?
Was that what Dave had thought of her all those years? Had he been pretending to be caring, understanding, loving—while nursing these malicious thoughts?
But he wasn't done. No. He didn't feel like he'd hurt her enough.
"Listen, Anita," he said, brushing a hand through his hair, "I have a company to run. I don't have time for your shenanigans. My company just got listed on Forbes as a billion-dollar company. I have deals to close." He gestured to the pile of documents on his desk.
"There's no reason to sink so low, lying about being pregnant… I don't know what you're afraid of, so don't raise my hopes only to dash them again." He paused, stepped forward, and gripped her shoulders tightly, bringing his face close.
"It's exhausting and annoying. You were never like this." He breathed. "Bringing up this... This sham... Why? Are you so desperate for a child? Then adopt one!" he shook her. "This is not like you, Anita. Goodness!" he pushed her and spun around, one hand on his waist and the other on his hair.
Anita stumbled but caught herself before she lost balance. She stood there, dumbfounded.
He didn't believe her. Even with the pregnancy report, he didn't believe her. He already concluded that she couldn't have children.
He was angry, thinking she'd lied to him. Anita could understand that, but what he'd said and done were unforgivable.
"You know what? Fuck you, David." Anita snatched the pregnancy report from the desk, turned, and stormed out. She couldn't stay in his presence for another second.
He would come back to beg. He always did. But this time, he'd gone too far. Her forgiveness wouldn't come easily.
David watched her leave his office –her back straight, head held high, and strides powerful. Exactly as she's always been. Proud, domineering, and utterly untouchable.
Even in defeat, she carried herself like a queen who'd merely chosen to retreat, not surrender. She didn't cry like any woman would. She only looked shocked like always.
David exhaled slowly, fingers drumming against his desk as the echo of her heels faded down the hall. Damn her. She still had that effect on him. That fire. That arrogance. That impossible, intoxicating presence that never failed to make his blood boil—whether in fury or in longing, he couldn't tell anymore.
....
It took two hours to reach her mother-in-law's residence; one of the most expensive and well-protected areas in the city.
Paradise.
Paradise was a hundred-story skyscraper, home only to the crème de la crème of society. It was a residence that had women breaking their husband's bank accounts, yet still couldn't own a unit on the lower floors.
Money alone wasn't enough to get in.
Everyone could have money, but connection and standing were what truly mattered.
Owning an apartment in Paradise meant one thing—you were untouchable.
Anita didn't live there. But when she arrived, the workers bowed, and the people lounging in the lobby couldn't help but eye her with envy.
Whispers and murmurs sparked around her, but no one dared speak too loudly—even if they were praising her.
Why?
Because Anita took the exclusive elevator to the 101st floor—the penthouse.
That's right. Her mother-in-law, Mrs. Blackwood, lived in the penthouse. And by extension, she was the most powerful and resourceful woman in the building—a force to be reckoned with.
The elevator opened directly into the living room, a massive space that screamed luxury and power.
As Anita stepped out, two lines of maids bowed. Their black-and-white uniforms were spotless, and their beauty so precise, it was almost intimidating. They reminded you of air hostesses—perfect, poised, and stunning.
Anita loved beautiful faces, and for that reason, she had personally handpicked these goddesses of varying shapes and sizes for her mother-in-law—who happened to love everything Anita loved.
"Welcome, Madam!" they chorused.
Anita hummed in acknowledgment and strode toward the stairs. Her luggage would be brought up shortly.
She came to her mother-in-law's place because she knew the woman would always have her back.
Mrs. Blackwood, who had been desperate for a grandchild for years would be furious to know what her son did to Anita.
Anita was sure of it.
As she passed the corridor, the door to her mother-in-law's room was slightly ajar. Anita hadn't expected her to be home—she'd called earlier, and the woman said she was out.
But now… she heard voices. Familiar voices.
Her mother-in-law and her sister-in-law.
Didn't Mrs. Blackwood say she wasn't home?
"Anita doesn't deserve my brother, Mom." Charlotte's voice drifted through. "She's older, and people say that to my brother all the time. My coursemates were whispering it the other day—saying he married an old woman for money, and now she's been cursed with barrenness for all the families she ruined. Mom, I don't like her."
"Wasn't that what I said before she married into this family?" Mrs. Blackwood replied smoothly. "How could an old woman, an heiress who abandoned her own family, ever submit to your brother?"
She continued, "At least David was smart enough to start his own company then. Today, he's one of the few powerful Billionaires. He might be able to gain a little bit of respect from her now." The woman chuckled softly.
"Right?!" Charlotte chirped. "My brother is no longer under that overbearing, self-centered, and obnoxious old hag. Now he can find real happiness… with Linda."
There was a pause.
"Which Linda? …You mean that Linda?"