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?

Turning the Tide

It was time to stand up. Not to justify myself, but to fight back.

I retreated to the bedroom, double-locked the door, and tremblingly dialed a number I hadn’t dared to call in a long time. On the other end of the line was the warm, familiar voice of Michael, my parents’ best friend and now the editor-in-chief of a major newspaper. When my parents died, he promised to treat me like a daughter, but out of pride and Beatrice’s prohibition, I had distanced myself from him.

“Eleanor? Is that you, kiddo? I heard you’ve been having some trouble.”

Michael’s voice was full of concern and compassion. Hearing the voice of a loved one, the tears flowed. All my pent-up pain overflowed. I told him everything through sobs: the fake medical report, the 5 million to force the divorce, Sophia’s smear campaign.

Michael listened in silence; only his heavy sigh could be heard on the other end. When I finished, his voice hardened, filled with the indignation of a father seeing his daughter trampled on. “Damn it! The Sinclairs think they’re above everyone. They treat people like dirt. Don’t you worry, kid. I won’t let this stand. Do you have proof?”

I wiped my tears, my gaze became firm. “I have everything, Uncle Mike. I saved the fake report with the family doctor’s signature, James’ texts pressuring me to divorce, and the recording of his assistant admitting they used money to bribe medical staff. I want a press conference, or at least an article exposing their true colors.”

Michael agreed immediately. That night, while the enraged mob continued to insult me online, I sat in front of my computer and carefully sent him every piece of evidence. Each click of the mouse was a self-inflicted cut to remove the tumor. I knew that doing this meant declaring war on my former in-laws, burning all bridges. But as I looked at my belly where two little souls were nestled, I knew I had no other choice.

Outside the rain continued to fall. The wind whistled through the window cracks like the wail of helpless women. But I no longer felt cold. The flame of resistance had been lit, illuminating the dark path I walked. I whispered to my children, “Sleep tight little ones. Tomorrow when the sun rises, Mommy will fight for our justice. I will show them how fearsome a cornered woman can be.”

At 10 a.m. the next day, right at the peak of social media activity, a lengthy article with a shocking headline appeared on the front page of Michael’s prestigious newspaper: THE TRUTH BEHIND THE $5 MILLION DIVORCE: A MOTHER-IN-LAW FAKES MEDICAL REPORTS TO OUST HER TWIN PREGNANT DAUGHTER-IN-LAW AND MAKE ROOM FOR A FORMER LOVER.

The article didn’t use sensational language but presented solid, chilling evidence. The image of the report declaring me sterile next to the twin ultrasound with matching dates was a direct slap in Beatrice’s face. It was followed by the recording of the assistant’s call revealing the calculations and contempt of the opulent family.

Public opinion, fickle as ever, did a 180° turn. Those who called me a gold digger yesterday now sympathized with the abandoned wife. The wave of outrage this time was even greater, but directed at the Sinclairs and Sophia.

Netizens called her “the other woman,” the home wrecker, the one who played the victim. The fashion and cosmetic brands collaborating with Sophia announced the cancellation of their contracts for fear of a boycott. Sophia went from being a sought-after socialite to a cornered rat afraid to go out.

Beatrice didn’t fare any better. That morning at the market, she was recognized, pointed at, and whispered about. “What an evil woman, kicking out her twin pregnant daughter-in-law and accusing her of infidelity. Like mother like son.”

Someone more worked up threw a bunch of wilted vegetables at her. My haughty mother-in-law had to cover her face with her purse and flee to her car humiliated.

The Sinclair Group stock plummeted. James in his office stared at the red graph on the screen with a pale face. He hadn’t expected such a strong and organized response from me. He called me, but this time his tone was not one of command or condescension, but of trembling helplessness. “Eleanor, can you stop this? I’m begging you. My mother has fainted. The company is in chaos.”

I held the phone by the window watching the bustling city. Satisfaction mixed in my heart, but I felt no joy. I answered with surprising calm. “James, this is the price you all have to pay when you cornered me. Did you think about this day? Your mother faints and she has doctors. But when I was thrown out into the rain, who cared about me? Enjoy it, because this is just the beginning.”

I hung up and sank onto the sofa. The spacious apartment was still quiet, but the suffocating atmosphere had dissipated. The storm outside had not yet calmed down when a special guest appeared at my door.

It was James’s grandfather, the true patriarch of the Sinclair family, just returned from abroad after a long convalescence. Unlike the caustic Beatrice or the weak-willed James, the grandfather was a profound, reasonable, and highly honorable man. When I arrived as a daughter-in-law, he was the only one who looked at me with kindness. He would even sometimes give me some pocket money on the sly.

He entered leaning on his cane, followed by his loyal elderly assistant. Seeing me with my prominent belly, his old eyes filled with intense emotion. He sat down and said in a trembling voice, “Eleanor, child. I’ve come back too late. I’ve let you suffer. It’s my fault for not knowing how to raise my son and grandson.”

The apology from an old man, a patriarch, made me feel a lump in my throat. I served him a cup of tea trying to contain my emotions. “Don’t say that, Grandpa. This has nothing to do with you. It’s just that my fate with James has run its course. I don’t blame anyone, only myself for choosing the wrong person.”

The grandfather sighed and placed a thick folder on the table. “I’ve read the papers and I’ve already given that grandson of mine a piece of my mind. I know you’re angry, but the children you’re carrying are Sinclair blood. I can’t let them wander aimlessly. These are the transfer papers for 5% of the group’s shares for my two unborn great grandchildren, and a villa in the suburbs for you to recover. Accept it as a small compensation.”

I looked at the folder, grateful, but reason forced me to be firm. I gently pushed it back towards him and shook my head. “I appreciate it, Grandpa, but I can’t accept it. I have enough means to take care of them. I don’t want to have anything to do with the Sinclair fortune. I don’t want people to say later that I used my children to fight for the inheritance. I only ask that you let me live in peace.”

The grandfather looked at me intently with a mixture of regret and admiration. He nodded. “This girl is still as strong as ever. All right, I respect your decision. But promise me that when they’re born, you’ll let me visit them. This old man doesn’t have much time left. I just hope I can hold my great grandchildren once.”

I nodded and took the ultrasound out of my purse to show him. He took the black and white image; his wrinkled trembling hands caressed the shape of the two babies. Tears rolled down his cheeks. In that moment, the tension between us seemed to melt away, leaving only the sacred family bond.

Before he left, the grandfather turned and looked at me, his voice became grave and enigmatic. “You recover peacefully. From now on, whoever dares to touch you and your children will have to deal with me. And as for that little hussy, I’ll take care of her myself.”

I knew he was referring to Sophia. His promise was a protective shield, but unintentionally it also pushed Sophia to the brink, making her hatred even more crazed and cruel.