Abandoned Pregnant In The Wreckage Only To Ruin His Life

Victoria did not waste time.

By 6:00 AM, while I was still hooked up to monitors in the hospital, my sister had orchestrated a military-grade operation.

Standing by my hospital bed, dressed in a sharp gray pantsuit and holding a tablet, Victoria directed the chaos.

"Yes, Marcus, I want everything that belongs to my sister out of that house," Victoria spoke into her headset. "Clothes, electronics, the antique vanity she inherited, her design portfolios. Leave the couch, he bought it. Leave the bed. Take all the kitchenware she purchased. I want it loaded onto the trucks by noon."

She muted the headset and looked at me. "The moving crew is at the Mercer Island house right now. They've changed the locks on the front and back doors. Liam¡¯s keys will no longer work."

"Where is he?" I asked, sipping water from a plastic cup.

Victoria tapped her tablet, pulling up a tracking application. "I had my private investigator run his plates. His truck is currently parked outside Sophia's townhouse complex. He's been there since 1:00 AM."

A small, bitter smile touched my lips. Of course he was.

"The hospital is discharging you at 10:00 AM," Victoria continued, efficiently organizing the paperwork on my bed. "Dr. Aris agreed to authorize a private medical transport. I am not taking you to my place¡ªhe knows where I live, and he will show up demanding answers."

"Where am I going?"

"Oakwood."

I looked up. Oakwood was a high-end, highly secure private recovery clinic nestled in the forests of the Cascade Mountains, an hour outside the city. It was usually reserved for celebrities recovering from plastic surgery or wealthy executives needing absolute privacy.

"Victoria, that costs a fortune."

"You have a fortune," she reminded me sharply. "Your interior design firm netted seven figures last year, Chloe. You are the sole owner. You have liquid assets, and you are going to use them to protect yourself and that baby. Oakwood has gated security, private cottages, and round-the-clock nursing staff to monitor your bed rest. Liam will never get past the front gate."

My phone vibrated on the bedside table.

The cracked screen lit up with Liam¡¯s name. It was the first time he had called since the collapse. It was 8:30 AM.

I stared at the name. Victoria reached out and declined the call.

Immediately, a text message popped up.

Liam: Hey. The police finally let us leave the scene a few hours ago. Sophia was having severe panic attacks, I had to stay with her to make sure she didn't go into shock. I'm heading home to shower and then I'll come find you. Did you make it home?

He didn't even know if I had been admitted to a hospital. He assumed I had simply dusted myself off, taken a cab home, and waited for him.

"Block the number," Victoria ordered.

I picked up the phone. I pressed the contact info, scrolled to the bottom, and hit 'Block this Caller'. Then I did the same for Sophia.

"Done."

"Good." Victoria pulled a thick manila envelope from her designer tote bag and laid it on my lap. "These are the initial filings. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage, citing irreconcilable differences. An ex parte temporary restraining order preventing him from liquidating any joint accounts, though you barely have any. And a formal cease-and-desist communication directive. Once he is served, all communication must go through my law firm."

I clicked a pen and signed my name on the lines Victoria pointed to. My handwriting was sharp, aggressive, and perfectly legible.

At 10:15 AM, two private security guards from Oakwood arrived with a transport wheelchair. They wheeled me down a restricted staff elevator to the underground parking garage, completely bypassing the main lobby where reporters or a panicked husband might be waiting.

As the black medical transport van pulled out of the hospital garage and merged onto the highway toward the mountains, I didn't look back at the city skyline.

I looked forward.