Chapter 2
The next morning, I woke up in the guest room.
My head was splitting from the hangover, but that was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest.
The door swung open, and Lance strode in, impeccably dressed in a crisp shirt and tailored slacks, the picture of a high-powered executive.
It was as if the man who'd torn me down with the cruelest words last night wasn't him.
He looked down at me from above, his face showing a hint of indulgence, like he was granting me mercy out of charity.
"Are you done making a scene?" he asked.
He pulled a black card from his wallet and tossed it onto the nightstand.
"Go buy yourself something you like, hit the shops, and take your mind off things," he said.
He paused, his voice carrying a warning. "But I don't want to hear 'divorce' from you again.
"I'll deal with Danielle. She won't threaten your place as Mrs. Mayer."
Deal with Danielle? I wondered if he was planning to get rid of me to clear the way for his beloved Danielle.
I stared at the black card. God, the irony was almost laughable.
For ten years, he'd gotten used to solving everything with money.
Whenever he was happy, he'd throw money at me.
Whenever he wasn't, he'd still throw money at me.
He truly believed money could buy everything, even my dignity.
I didn't say a word. I pulled back the covers and got out of bed barefoot.
I was still wearing that rumpled dress, uncomfortably stiff and dry, clinging to my skin.
I headed straight into the walk-in closet, not sparing him a glance.
Lance's brows furrowed, his displeasure with my silence written all over his face.
"Celine, I'm talking to you here," he said.
I grabbed the simplest, most comfortable clothes from the closet and, right in front of him, peeled off that pricey designer dress, dirty and stiff, and slipped into something of my own.
Then I took my ID and important papers from the drawer and tucked them into my bag.
Not once did I look at him.
That kind of complete disregard was harder for him to bear than any argument.
"What are you trying to do?" He finally lost his patience, grabbing my wrist.
His grip was strong, digging painfully into my skin.
I finally lifted my eyes to meet his.
The eyes that once saw nothing but him were now cold and distant.
"Let go," I said coldly.
"Celine," Lance called out.
"Lance," I replied, steady as ever, "there's nothing more to talk about between us."
I pulled my wrist free, grabbed my bag, and headed straight out the door.
He stood frozen, watching me leave, finally realizing this was for real.
I didn't go home, and I didn't go anywhere he could find me.
I took a cab to St. Laurence Hospital.
I sat on the cold bench in the OB-GYN waiting room, surrounded by glowing expectant mothers, their husbands hovering protectively at their sides.
I ran my hand over my still-flat belly and pulled out the pregnancy test from a few days ago, two red lines staring back at me.
What a joke. After all these years of hoping for a child, it finally happened.
Finally, it was my turn.
The doctor looked over the report and smiled at me. "Congratulations, Ms. Cooper. You're six weeks pregnant, and the baby is healthy."
I stared at the tiny, almost invisible gestational sac on the ultrasound, and felt a sharp, stinging pain in my heart.
This was the last bond of blood between him and me.
I had to sever it with my own hands.
I looked up at the doctor, my voice emotionless. "Doctor, when can you schedule the abortion? The sooner, the better."
The doctor's smile vanished, and she looked at me in disbelief, as if I were some kind of monster.
"Ms. Cooper, what did you just say?" she asked, stunned.
"I said, I want to terminate this pregnancy," I repeated myself, my voice steady, but every word cut deeper into me than anyone else.
The doctor opened her mouth, as if she wanted to persuade me, but seeing my pale face and eyes drained of all hope, she could only sigh in defeat.
"The earliest I can schedule the surgery is Friday morning. You'll need a relative to sign off on the procedure," she said.
"I'll sign it myself," I replied.
"Okay," she said.
When I stepped out of the hospital, the sunlight was so harsh that it made my eyes water.
I stood by the curb, pulled out my phone, and dialed the number I knew by heart.
The phone rang for a long time before it was finally picked up.
There was a lot of noise in the background. It sounded like he was in a meeting.
"What is it? I'm busy," Lance answered, sounding annoyed.
I could picture him sitting at the head of the conference table, frowning as he took my call in front of all his executives.
And Danielle? She was probably sitting right next to him, playing the role of his "special assistant."
I guessed he was planning his future with his true love.
I didn't waste any words. "Lance, I'm pregnant."
The line went dead silent.
Even the background noise seemed to vanish.