My Mil Called Me A “fruitless Tree” And Forced A Divorce. My Ceo Husband Handed Me $5m And Kicked Me Out In The Rain. Little Do They Know, I’m Carrying His Twins. Should I Disappear Forever?

A Nest for Three

As I walked out the door, the bright sunlight hit me, forcing me to squint. I placed my hand on my belly and whispered to my two children, “Let’s go, little ones. Mommy and you are starting a new life.”

Behind me, the office door closed, separating me from a grim past. I didn’t know that just as I left, James was still standing there, watching my retreating figure with a vague sense of loss inside him that even he couldn’t name.

After leaving the lawyer’s office, I didn’t rush back to my parents’ house, nor did I look for a temporary hotel. I took a cab straight to the most luxurious apartment complex in the city. That place that before, every time I passed on my way to the market, I only dared to look at with a mixture of admiration and self-pity.

Back then, I was a CEO’s wife. I lived in an imposing mansion but never had more than $100 in my pocket for my own expenses. Now I was a divorced pregnant woman, but with $5 million sleeping in my bank account. Life is certainly an ironic play; when we have love, we lack respect. When we have money, we are alone on the road ahead.

I decided to rent a spacious penthouse with a view of the park, with absolute security and 24-hour on-call medical service. I spared no expense because I understood that the safety of the two little souls in my womb was, at that moment, priceless.

After signing the lease, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window looking out at the New York skyline bathed in the sunset light. I placed a hand on my belly and whispered, “My little ones, this will be our first nest.”

No grandmother to criticize us, no indifferent father. Just the three of us and peace.

That afternoon, I went on a shopping spree like I had never dared to dream of before. I got rid of all the gray and brown clothes Beatrice had forced me to wear to look like a docile daughter-in-law. I chose soft silk dresses for myself, elegant designer maternity wear, and most importantly, the best baby items for my two little angels.

Holding a pair of tiny booties the size of my thumbs in my hand, tears welled up in my eyes. It turns out happiness isn’t waiting for a man to come home for dinner, but building your own future with your own hands.

Jealousy and Suspicion

While I was enjoying this luxurious freedom, on the other side of the city, the atmosphere in James’s office was suffocating. He was sitting in his executive chair, spinning an expensive fountain pen, but his gaze was lost in the void.

Sophia had arrived early, bringing a carefully decorated lunchbox with her. She placed it coquettishly on his desk and said in a honeyed voice, “Darling, I made this myself. Have some while it’s warm.”

James looked at the container and involuntarily remembered the simple but warm lunches I used to secretly send with the security guard so he wouldn’t get stomach aches. Back then he used to frown, complaining about the hassle, telling me not to do such unnecessary things. Now, faced with the care of the woman he had longed for, he didn’t understand why everything felt bland and empty.

He forced a smile, opened the container, and ate a few bites out of obligation, but his mind drifted to the image of my radiant and dazzling smile from that morning. My phrase, “Thank you my golden benefactor,” echoed in his head like a curse.

His assistant came in cautiously, placed a file on the table, and said, “Mr. Sinclair, as per your request, I’ve been monitoring the account you provided to Mrs. Eleanor. She made a considerable expenditure this afternoon.”

James smiled disdainfully, his voice full of contempt. “I knew it. Women accustomed to luxury, as soon as they get money, run to buy designer bags and shoes. She’s as vulgar as the rest.”

But the assistant hesitated for a moment and then continued with a bewildered expression. “No, Mr. Sinclair. She didn’t buy bags. She rented a luxury apartment, paying a year in advance, and bought a large quantity of children’s furniture and very expensive imported vitamin supplements for…”

The assistant left the sentence hanging, not daring to look his boss in the eye. James stopped dead, his thick eyebrows furrowing. The hand holding the fork trembled slightly. Children? Vitamins? Why was she buying those things if she had just been diagnosed as sterile by a doctor? Or was she using his money to take care of another man’s child?

An irrational jealousy and suspicion erupted in James’s heart like a wind-stoked fire. He thought of my enigmatic smile, the coldness with which I signed the papers. What if the betrayed one in this marriage wasn’t him, but me?

The sudden afternoon rain beat against the office windows, creating a dry rhythmic sound identical to the anxious beats in James’ chest. In that moment, he snatched the expense report from his assistant’s hands. His bloodshot eyes quickly scanned each line. Breast pumps. A twin crib. Prenatal vitamins. Newborn clothes. Each item appeared as irrefutable proof of a truth he didn’t dare or want to believe.

James slammed the stack of papers on the table. The loud noise made Sophia, who was filing her nails on the sofa, jump. She rushed over to him, her voice sweet and slightly fake. “What’s wrong, darling? Is something upsetting you so much?”

James didn’t answer. He pushed Sophia’s hand away and started pacing the room like a wounded beast. Only one question spun in his head: Why? Why would a woman whose mother had thrown a medical report in her face the day before, calling her a fruitless tree, be buying these things today?

There were two possibilities. One: Eleanor had gone crazy and was buying things to console herself. Two: She was actually pregnant.

But if she was pregnant, who was the father? James remembered the report his mother had given him. The conclusion was clear: Eleanor had Polycystic Ovaries. It was almost impossible for her to conceive.

Besides, in the last three years, the times they had been together could be counted on one hand. The last time was that drunken night three months ago, but the next day he had forced her to take the morning-after pill. Mistrust was an inherent trait in powerful men like James. He began to connect the dots: my recent distant attitude, the fact that I didn’t try to hold on to him when he handed me the divorce papers, and that confident haughty look at the lawyer’s office.

“Damn her!” James roared, clenching his fists. “Did she dare to cheat on me? Did she dare to use the $5 million I worked so hard for to raise another man’s child?”

The ego of a successful man was severely wounded. He could leave his wife, but he couldn’t accept his ex-wife living better than him, much less accept that he had been deceived all this time.

James turned to his assistant; his voice hissed through his teeth, menacing. He ordered him to immediately investigate where Eleanor was and who she was living with. “Her past three months. I want to know who this man is and find a way to confirm if she’s really pregnant.”

The assistant nodded hastily and withdrew, sweat beading on his forehead.