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?

The Paternity Puzzle

Half an hour later, in the CEO’s office of the Sinclair Group, the sound of an antique vase shattering into a thousand pieces silenced the entire floor. James had thrown the phone he had just listened to the recording on against the wall.

His face was congested with anger. He roared like a wounded beast, “Damn her! How dare she say that? If they don’t carry the Sinclair name, what damn bastard’s name will they carry?”

James frantically searched his memory. For three years I had been cooped up at home, only going out to shop for groceries and cook. What opportunity had I had to meet someone? But the pregnancy was there, and it was twins.

They couldn’t have fallen from the sky. Blind jealousy clouded his reason, making him forget that he too had shared a passionate night with his wife. He only felt his pride trampled in the most humiliating way. The wife he had scorned and abandoned turned out to have cheated on him in a spectacular fashion.

James slammed his fist on the table and ordered the trembling assistant in the corner to investigate. “Find that man at any cost! I want to see who was bold enough to touch the woman who was once the wife of James Sinclair. And get the car ready, I want to see her right now!”

In his fury, James didn’t realize he wasn’t acting like an ex-husband who felt nothing anymore, but like a man consumed by possessive jealousy.

While James was burning with jealousy and rage, at the Greenwich estate, Sophia, the woman he had so longed for, had officially moved in. She arrived with dozens of suitcases of clothes and cosmetics, quickly transforming my old bedroom into her own territory. Our wedding portraits were thrown into the storage room and replaced with gaudy abstract paintings she called art.

Sophia was very skilled at winning Beatrice’s favor. She gave her expensive gifts, she spent hours whispering confidences to her and praising how young, beautiful, and elegant she was. Beatrice, delighted, boasted everywhere about her future daughter-in-law—so capable and filial, unlike the kept country girl I was.

But this perfect facade didn’t last long. That night, James returned home looking distracted and exhausted after his outburst in the office. He loosened his tie and slumped onto the sofa, his eyes dark and heavy. Sophia rushed to greet him, dressed in a sheer and provocative silk nightgown.

She curled up on James’s lap and whispered, “You’re back, darling. I was waiting for you for dinner. I made the filet mignon with red wine reduction you love so much.”

James looked at the table. The meat was burnt and blackened, the side dishes looked limp. It was obvious it was the work of an inexperienced cook or store-bought food reheated.

He involuntarily remembered the meals I used to prepare. The filet mignon always perfectly cooked, the sauce rich and balanced, the salad fresh and crisp. That unfavorable comparison made him feel even more disheartened. He pushed Sophia away and said in a tired voice, “I’ve already eaten. You eat.”

Sophia froze. A flash of resentment crossed her eyes, but she quickly hid it. She knew James was distracted by the issue with me. She sat beside him, her soft hand caressing his chest. Her tone shifted to one of false compassion. “Are you still thinking about Eleanor? I heard from your assistant that she’s pregnant. Is it true?”

James remained silent, but his hands clenched into fists. Seeing this, Sophia grew bolder. She whispered poisonous words in his ear. “I think you shouldn’t be sad. The fact that Eleanor left so quickly and got pregnant immediately shows she had it all planned out. Who knows, maybe that man was already in her life before you two divorced. Women these days are terrible; they look harmless but you never know what they’re hiding.”

Every word from Sophia was like adding fuel to the fire. James turned to look at her, his eyes bloodshot. “You think she cheated on me too?”

Sophia feigned innocence, blinking. “I wouldn’t dare say for sure, but think about it. You were married for 3 years with no children. The doctor said it would be hard for her to conceive. And right after she leaves, she gets pregnant with twins and has money to rent a luxury apartment. If it weren’t for a rich man supporting her, where would she get it?”

James shot up, jealousy and suspicion erupting again. He rushed to his study and called a private investigator to pressure him. He wanted the truth. He wanted to unmask me, to prove that I was a despicable traitor.

He rummaged through my planner, call logs, even the car’s GPS tracking for the past three months. But the more he investigated, the more bewildered the results left him.

The detailed report from the detective showed that for the past three months I had lived like a shadow. To the market in the morning, cooking at noon, cleaning in the afternoon, waiting for my husband at night. I hadn’t met with any unknown men, there were no suspicious calls, and no money transfers to my account other than the 5 million he had given me.

James held the file; a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. If I hadn’t cheated on him, if there was no other man, then where did the pregnancy come from? He collapsed into his chair. A chill ran down his spine. A crazy idea, a possibility he had never dared to consider, began to form in his head.

He checked the calendar. His trembling finger stopped on March 15th. Exactly three months prior. It was the day of the company’s anniversary party and also the night he came home drunk.

The Doctor’s Confession

The tranquility of my new apartment stood in stark contrast to the storm raging in James’ heart. I later learned that right after hearing the recording and reading the detective’s report, James lost his cool and did something reckless.

He searched his contacts for the number of the family’s private doctor, the one who had attended to me for the past three years and who had also signed the report concluding I had polycystic ovaries.

James wanted a definitive answer, not from my sharp tongue, but from a professional. In his cold air-conditioned office, James growled into the phone. Each word was like a knife to the listener’s throat. “Dr. Evans, tell me the truth. What is Eleanor’s real medical history? How is it possible that she’s pregnant with twins?”

The other end of the line was silent for a long moment, only a short fearful breath could be heard. Doctor Evans was an old acquaintance of Beatrice’s, but faced with the threat from James, who held shares in the hospital, he dared not hide the truth any longer. He confessed trembling, “Mr. Sinclair, the truth is, Mrs. Eleanor is perfectly healthy. The infertility report… Your mother forced me to fake it to have an excuse to get rid of her.”

“And as for the pregnancy,” he hesitated a moment then continued, his voice barely a whisper, “In the last checkup before she left, I had already detected signs of pregnancy. Calculating based on her menstrual cycle and the size of the gestational sac on the ultrasound, the date of conception perfectly matches the night of March 15th.”

The phone slipped from James’ hand and landed with a dull thud on the polished mahogany desk. March 15th. He remembered that night perfectly. The company anniversary party. He drank until he blacked out and the chauffeur drove him home.

In his drunken state, he had mistaken me for Sophia, embracing me passionately and desirously. The next morning, upon waking and seeing me beside him, he angrily threw a box of the morning-after pill at me and forbade me from ever mentioning the matter again.

It turned out I hadn’t taken that pill, or fate had arranged for it not to work. James sat there stunned, his hands in his head, his fingers dug into his messy hair. The words “twins” and the fateful date danced in his head. A dizzying mix of hope and sharp pain.

I hadn’t been unfaithful. I hadn’t betrayed him. Those children were his children. The Sinclair family bloodline they so longed for.

Suddenly James felt a tightness in his chest. A feeling of remorse mixed with a savage possessiveness took hold of him. He remembered my cold gaze, my statement that they wouldn’t carry the Sinclair name. It turned out I knew everything. I had silently endured the humiliation, taken the money, and taken his children away with me.

“It can’t be,” James jumped up, knocking over the imposing presidential chair. He muttered like a madman, “They’re my children. She has no right to take them away.”

The important shareholders meeting was underway but the chairman’s seat was empty. James stormed out of the company like a whirlwind, leaving behind the astonished gazes of dozens of subordinates. He jumped into his car, floored the accelerator.

The luxury vehicle roared and shot into the busy streets. In his mind there were no more profits, no projects, no image of Sophia. Only my image with my swelling belly and a defiant smile.