The doctor placed the ultrasound probe against my abdomen.
The screen lit up.
A tiny figure appeared in the darkness.
My baby.
My throat tightened.
The doctor moved the probe carefully, checking the heartbeat, measurements, and development.
—Everything looks good.
I finally released the breath I had been holding.
—The baby is healthy.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time that morning, I felt my shoulders relax.
Then the doctor smiled.
—You are almost sixteen weeks.
—Have you been receiving regular prenatal care?
I nodded.
—Yes.
—Are you doing this alone?
I hesitated.
Then I answered:
—Yes.
The doctor looked at me for a moment but didn’t ask anything else.
After the examination, she printed several photographs and handed them to me.
I carefully placed them inside my bag.
When I opened the door, I wasn’t prepared to see Nathan still standing outside.
He was leaning against the wall.
Owen stood several meters away.
The moment Nathan saw me, he straightened.
His eyes immediately fell on the ultrasound photographs in my hand.
Then he looked at my face.
—How is the baby?
I tightened my fingers around the photographs.
—Healthy.
His jaw moved slightly.
—Is it mine?
I looked at him.
—You already asked.
—And you didn’t answer.
—You already have the answer.
His eyes darkened.
—Sofia.
I smiled faintly.
—You signed the divorce papers.
—You wrote that we had no children together.
—So why are you asking me now?
He didn’t answer.
For the first time, the man who always had something to say seemed to have lost every word.
Owen lowered his head.
I turned around.
Nathan caught up with me.
—Wait.
—What?
—Why didn’t you tell me?
I laughed softly.
There was no warmth in it.
—When should I have told you?
—The day you told me our marriage was over?
—The day you handed me the divorce agreement?
—Or the day you told me you didn’t want to waste another year on a marriage that had already become meaningless?
His face became pale.
—That’s not what I meant.
—It doesn’t matter.
I looked at him.
—You made your decision.
—So did I.
He followed me all the way to the hospital entrance.
I stopped.
—Nathan.
He stopped too.
—Go back.
—Where?
I looked toward the specialized obstetrics wing.
—To Miss Chloe.
His expression immediately changed.
I noticed.
That tiny movement.
That hesitation.
That instinctive concern.
The same expression I had seen countless times during our marriage whenever Chloe’s name appeared on his phone.
I suddenly felt tired.
—She needs you more than I do.
Nathan’s brows furrowed.
—Don’t misunderstand.
—I don’t misunderstand anything anymore.
I turned away.
But before I could leave, he said:
—Chloe is sick.
I stopped.
—She has a congenital heart condition.
I slowly turned around.
He continued:
—Her doctor asked me to help coordinate a specialist from abroad.
—That’s why I was here.
I looked at him.
For a moment, I almost believed him.
Then I remembered the last three years.
The endless calls.
The dinners canceled.
The nights he disappeared.
The messages he never explained.
The coldness that had gradually become normal.
I lowered my eyes.
—That’s between you and her.
He stared at me.
—You don’t believe me?
I shook my head.
—It doesn’t matter whether I believe you.
—We’re divorced.
Those two words seemed to hurt him more than anything else.
That evening, I returned to my apartment.
It was small.
Two bedrooms.
One living room.
A tiny balcony overlooking the old neighborhood.
But everything belonged to me.
No servants.
No enormous mansion.
No Nathan.
I put the ultrasound photographs on the table.
Then I placed my hand over my belly.
—We’re okay.
The baby moved faintly.
I smiled.
—Your mother is going to protect you.
My phone suddenly rang.
Unknown number.
I hesitated before answering.
A woman’s voice came from the other end.
—Is this Sofia Lane?
—Yes.
—I’m calling from the Sterling family office.
My heart tightened.
—What do you want?
—Mr. Sterling has instructed us to transfer a property into your name.
I froze.
—What property?
—An apartment near Central Hospital.
—It’s fully paid.
I laughed.
—Return it.
The woman was silent.
—Mr. Sterling said you would refuse.
—Then why did he send you?
—He asked us to tell you that the property isn’t for you.
I frowned.
—Then for whom?
There was a pause.
—For the child.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
—Tell Nathan I don’t need anything from him.
—Miss Lane…
—And don’t contact me again.
I hung up.
But my heart refused to calm down.
Because Nathan had never been the kind of person who acted without a reason.
The next morning, something even stranger happened.
When I arrived at work, my supervisor called me into his office.
He looked uncomfortable.
—Sofia, the Sterling Group contacted us.
I froze.
—What did they want?
—They want to buy the design company.
I stared at him.
—What?
—A full acquisition.
—They offered three times our current valuation.
My supervisor sighed.
—And there is one condition.
I already knew.
—Me.
He nodded.
—They specifically requested that you remain as creative director.
I laughed.
—No.
—Sofia, this is an extraordinary offer.
—I said no.
He stared at me.
—You should think carefully.
I stood up.
—I’ve already thought enough.
That afternoon, Nathan appeared outside my office.
He was standing beside his car.
I walked past him.
He called my name.
I stopped.
—What do you want?
—You.
I turned around slowly.
He seemed to realize how that sounded.
—Not like that.
—Then explain.
He looked at me for a long moment.
—I’ve been investigating what happened during our marriage.
My expression changed.
—What are you talking about?
—The reason I changed.
—The reason I became distant.
—The reason Chloe kept appearing in our lives.
I stared at him.
He lowered his voice.
—Someone sent me information about you three years ago.
—Photos.
—Messages.
—Financial records.
—Everything made it look like you were hiding another man.
My heart stopped.
—You believed it?
He closed his eyes.
—Yes.
I laughed bitterly.
—So that’s why you divorced me?
—You thought I betrayed you?
—I thought you had stopped loving me.
He looked at me.
—Then I discovered the evidence had been fabricated.
My smile disappeared.
—When?
—Two months ago.
My fingers slowly curled.
Two months.
Exactly when our divorce was finalized.
Nathan continued:
—I traced the source.
—It led back to someone close to me.
I stared at him.
—Chloe?
His silence was answer enough.
But then he said:
—I don’t know yet.
—I’m still investigating.
I shook my head.
—Nathan, whatever happened between you and Chloe has nothing to do with me anymore.
He stepped closer.
—It does if she was the reason I lost you.
I looked at him.
—No.
—You lost me because you chose to believe someone else instead of asking me.
He froze.
I continued:
—Don’t blame another woman for a decision you made yourself.
His face tightened.
For the first time, I saw regret in his eyes.
Real regret.
But it came too late.
That night, Nathan returned to his office.
Owen was waiting.
He placed a thick folder on the desk.
—Mr. Sterling.
Nathan opened it.
The first page was a financial report.
The second contained phone records.
The third contained hospital records.
Then came surveillance photographs.
Nathan’s expression became colder with every page.
Finally, Owen placed one last photograph in front of him.
A picture of Chloe entering a private clinic.
Nathan stared at it.
—When was this taken?
—Three months ago.
—Why wasn’t I told?
Owen swallowed.
—Because Miss Chloe asked the clinic to keep it confidential.
Nathan turned the page.
A medical report.
His eyes stopped on one line.
He read it twice.
Then a third time.
His fingers slowly tightened around the paper.
Owen asked quietly:
—Sir…
Nathan raised his eyes.
—Find out everything.
—Everything about Chloe.
—And about the person who fabricated those documents three years ago.
Owen nodded.
Then Nathan looked at the ultrasound photograph he had secretly obtained from the hospital records.
A tiny black-and-white image.
His child.
His hand trembled for the first time in years.
He whispered:
—Sofia…
But across the city, I was already packing my suitcase.
Because the next morning, I had an appointment with a lawyer.
And I wasn’t going back to Nathan.
I was going to make sure that when my child was born…
The name on the birth certificate would belong to a father who had chosen us before it was too late.
