The smugness on his face froze into a mask of confusion. Megan was the one who found her voice first, shrieking, “Are you insane? Do you have any idea what that costs? Where would you get that kind of money?”
I looked at them both—truly looked at them—and felt a wave of pity. “Money is no longer your concern.”
As if on cue, a black Mercedes GLS glided to the curb outside the glass doors. A driver in a crisp suit stepped out, opening the rear door and bowing toward the window. “Miss Catherine, the transport is ready.”
David’s face turned a mottled purple. “What kind of circus is this?”
I didn’t answer. I knelt to pick up Chloe, while Aiden gripped my hand with a strength that broke my heart. I looked at my ex-husband one last time. “Rest assured, from this second forward, we will never interfere with your ‘new life’ again.”
As I walked down the steps, the driver handed me a thick manila envelope. “From Steven, ma’am. All the evidence of the asset transfers has been compiled.”
I climbed into the car, the scent of expensive leather a stark contrast to the stagnant air of the office. Looking out the window, I saw David and Megan arguing on the sidewalk, oblivious to the fact that their world was about to be hit by a tactical strike they never saw coming.
Chapter 2: The Heir to Nothing
The black Mercedes merged into the morning sprawl of Manhattan, the June sun reflecting off the skyscrapers with a blinding, indifferent brilliance. Inside the car, the silence was heavy. Aiden stared out the window, his small face etched with a gravity no seven-year-old should possess.
“Mom,” he whispered, not looking away from the passing blur of the city. “Is Dad ever coming to visit us in the new house?”
I stroked his hair, my heart a lead weight. “We’re going to start a new adventure, Aiden. Just you, me, and Chloe.”
My phone buzzed. A text from Steven, my attorney: The vultures have landed at the clinic. Security is in place. The trap is set.
While we headed toward JFK Airport, David and the entire Coleman clan were descending upon the Hope Private Reproductive Center. To them, this was a coronation. Allison, the mistress-turned-queen, sat in the VIP lounge in a maternity dress that cost more than my first car.
Linda, my former mother-in-law, was practically vibrating with excitement. She took Allison’s hand with a warmth she had never shown me in eight years. “My dear, are you holding up? My grandson needs his mother to be rested.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Allison purred, casting a smug glance at David.
Megan handed over a gift box wrapped in silver. “Premium organic supplements. Only the best for the Coleman heir. We’ve already reserved his spot at the international prep school.”
The family laughed, sharing a vision of a future built on the wreckage of my marriage. No one mentioned my name. I had been erased, a footnote in the ledger of their lives.
“Allison,” a nurse called. “The doctor is ready for the ultrasound.”
David jumped up, his face glowing with pride. “I’m coming in. This is my son we’re talking about.”
