Chapter 2
Jonathan's yelling, demands, and the sound of things smashing were completely sealed away behind the door.
Outside, leaning against the cold door, I let out one long, long breath.
The prenatal report in my pocket still held my body heat, but I knew that from this moment on, it belonged to me alone.
Goodbye, Jonathan.
No. Not goodbye. Good riddance.
I left that so-called home without a shred of regret. It had always been a cage.
As my car sped through the late-night streets, the first thing I did was call my best friend, Sophia Reed.
She was a star attorney at a top law firm, and the sharpest weapon in my counterattack.
She picked up almost instantly. Her voice came through, cool and sharp. "Talk."
"He brought it up. The money's in. Help me handle the rest." I gripped the steering wheel, watching the neon lights blink ahead of me, my voice eerily calm.
There were two seconds of silence on the other end, then Sophia let out an approving laugh, "Nice. I'm launching Plan B right now. Find somewhere safe to stay and keep your phone on."
"Got it."
After hanging up, I didn't go home. I drove straight to a five-star hotel and checked in under a brand-new identity.
Once I got into the room, the first thing I did was move every cent that legally belonged to me out of the joint account I shared with Jonathan.
That included all gains from my premarital assets and the money he'd sent as household expenses that I had invested.
Every single transfer had a clear source and paper trail. Sophia had already sorted it all out for me. Legally airtight, unquestionably mine.
Jonathan thought those 67 million dollars were charity. What he forgot was that before I married him, I was already a fairly well-known celebrity nutritionist. I knew how to make my own money.
The whole thing took less than twenty minutes.
Right then, Jonathan's calls started flooding in. My screen flashed wildly, like it was channeling his rage.
I let it ring for a long while before lazily answering and putting him on speaker.
"Claire. Have you lost your mind? Are you moving assets?" His roar burst from the phone, and somewhere in the background, I heard porcelain shattering.
I walked to the window, pulled open the heavy curtains, looked down at the glittering city below, and took a slow sip of the warm milk the hotel staff had just brought up.
"Mr. Grant, calm down," I said mildly. "This is just a normal financial settlement before divorce. Your 67 million is divorce compensation, not hush money, and definitely not everything I'm entitled to."
"In your dreams. That money belongs to the Grant family. You're not taking a damn cent." He was practically foaming at the mouth now, his voice cracking.
I gave a small laugh. It was time to drop my first bombshell.
"Really?" I paused, my tone turning icy, "Then you can forget about ever seeing your children."
The line went dead silent.
I could picture the look on Jonathan's face. Pure disbelief.
A full ten seconds passed before his trembling voice finally came through, "You... what did you say?"
I pulled out the stack of prenatal reports from my bag, chose the one that only showed [Early Intrauterine Pregnancy, One Gestational Sac Visible], snapped a clear photo, and sent it to him on WhatsApp.
Then I spoke into the phone, slowly and clearly, "An hour before you asked for divorce, I got back from the hospital. I'm pregnant."
I deliberately kept the quadruplets part to myself.
With a control freak like Jonathan, I had to play my hand one card at a time.
Telling him I was pregnant would make him think twice before trying anything too extreme.
As for the quadruplets, they were my last and deadliest trump card.
His breathing on the other end turned heavy, like a wounded beast panting.
"A child... my child..." he muttered, his voice tangled up with shock, wild joy, and panic.
I gave him no time to process any of it.
I coldly laid down my terms, "Jonathan, listen carefully. First, have your people cooperate with Sophia and finish every step of the property division and divorce paperwork immediately.
Second, after the divorce, the child stays with me. You get visitation rights only if I agree.
"And if you don't cooperate," I looked out into the dark night sky, my voice stripped of all emotion.
"Then I'll take him and vanish from this world completely. I promise you, you'll never find us, mother and child, for the rest of your life. Your Grant family line will end with you." I said.
"You wouldn't dare," he snarled.
"Try me," I answered him calmly, then hung up and blocked his number.
I knew those words had hit him exactly where it hurt most.
The Grant family had only had one son in each generation for three generations. Jonathan's mother dreamed of having a grandson, and Jonathan himself cared more about family legacy than anything.
One child. One heir. That was enough to turn him from a raging lion into something I could lead around by the nose.
The moment he brought up divorce, this war stopped being his. The upper hand became mine.
Over the next few days, Jonathan was surprisingly quiet.
Sophia told me his legal team was being extremely cooperative, and the division of assets was moving along almost too smoothly.
I knew the "child" card was working.
He didn't dare make any rash move, so all he could do for now was compromise and hope I'd let my guard down.
But while he stayed still, the woman he'd been pining after couldn't hold back. She came right to me on her own.