My Husband Stole My Fertility

Synopsis

The hospital hallway reeked of disinfectant. I sat on a plastic chair outside the physical examination department and checked the text Richard Lane sent me. [Claire, head straight home after your checkup. I've asked the housekeeper to make tomato soup this evening.] Although he was sixty-three years old, he was still as thoughtful as ever. I replied with [Okay] and slipped my phone back into my bag. Thirty-eight years into our marriage, I, Claire Lane, had to admit I'd landed pretty well. Richard was one of the city's top real estate tycoons and the head of Lane Holdings, with assets of nearly 1 billion dollars. Back in my younger days, I worked as a college lecturer. Then Richard told me our family had more than enough money and urged me to settle in as a wealthy housewife, so I quit my job. The only pity was not having children. But he'd been the one to bring it up all those years ago. "Claire, I don't want kids. Wouldn't it be perfect if it's only the two of us for the rest of our lives?" It was the summer of 1986, our second year as a married couple. He wrapped an arm around my waist when he said that, his tone gentle enough to sound like a romantic poem. I'd hesitated at first, but Richard could talk his way into anything. He went on about how a child would take away the love he had for me, and that he only wanted to spoil me exclusively for the rest of his life. I bought into it and stopped taking birth control pills. There was no point in harming my health if neither of us wanted a baby. Thirty-seven years passed like that. "Mrs. Claire Lane, please come in." A nurse called my name. I grabbed my bag and walked into the exam room. The attending doctor was Mary Burton, a woman in her early fifties with gold-rimmed glasses. She stared at the ultrasound report and slowly frowned.