My Husband Denied My Pregnancy to Protect His First Love

I took a slow sip of the coffee. The warm oat milk coated my throat. Caleb sat next to me. He didn't crowd me, but his presence was a heavy, grounding anchor in the sterile, freezing hallway. I could smell the faint scent of cedar from his jacket.

A sudden, sharp tapping sound broke the quiet.

I turned my head. Through the wide glass window of the private hospital room, Enzo was awake.

He was sitting up in the bed. His face was the color of dirty chalk. The heart monitor beeped rapidly next to him. But he wasn't looking at the machines. His dark, bloodshot eyes were locked entirely on me.

Or rather, on Caleb’s expensive suit jacket draped over my shoulders.

Enzo’s face twisted. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He ripped the thin white blanket off his legs. A nurse rushed forward, but he shoved her hand away. He grabbed his metal IV pole and dragged it toward the sliding glass door.

He yanked the door open. He leaned heavily against the metal frame, breathing hard. He looked pathetic and small.

“What is he doing here?” Enzo hissed. His voice was weak, but the possessive anger in it was loud.

I didn't move. I just held my coffee cup.

Caleb didn't jump up either. He slowly turned his head. His striking gray eyes swept over Enzo’s frail, shaking form. “Visiting,” Caleb said simply. His voice was smooth and completely unbothered.

“Get away from my wife, Bryant,” Enzo spat. His knuckles turned stark white as he gripped the doorframe. He looked ready to murder someone, but he could barely stand upright.

Caleb let out a low, dark chuckle. He finally stood up. He was a full head taller than Enzo, and twice as broad. He smoothed his tie with absolute calm.

“Your wife?” Caleb mused. “That’s funny. I heard you were busy clearing out your closet for someone else.”

Enzo flushed a dark, angry red. “This is none of your business. Leave.”

“I don't take orders from men who can't even manage their own assets,” Caleb replied smoothly. He stepped closer to the door, his presence towering and predatory. “Tell me, Shaw. Are your quarterly stocks bleeding as fast as your stomach lining? You really should make better diet choices. Spicy food is bad for weak men.”

Enzo gasped. His eyes widened in absolute shock. He opened his mouth to shout, but a violent cough racked his chest instead. He doubled over, clutching his abdomen in agony. He was completely helpless. The great billionaire, reduced to a trembling mess.

Before I could even smile at the sight, the sharp clack of expensive heels echoed down the corridor.

I looked past Caleb. My mother, Eleanor, and my father, Richard, were marching toward us. They wore matching designer coats. They looked completely out of place in the bleak emergency ward.

They didn't even glance at me. They walked right past my chair and rushed straight to Isabella. She was still sitting in the corner, dabbing her dry eyes with a tissue.

“Oh, my poor baby!” Eleanor cried. She threw her arms around Isabella, crushing her in a hug. “Are you okay? Did you get any sleep?”

Isabella sniffled loudly. She leaned into our mother's shoulder. “It was awful, Mom. There was so much blood. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do.”

My mother stroked her blonde hair. “It's over now, sweetie. Mommy is here.” Then, she slowly turned her head. Her eyes locked on me. The maternal warmth vanished instantly. Her face turned to stone.

She marched over to me. Richard followed closely behind her, his face a mask of cold annoyance.

“Blaire,” my mother snapped. Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass. “What is the meaning of this?”

I stayed seated. I pulled Caleb's warm jacket a little tighter around my shoulders. “Meaning of what, Mother?”

“Look at your sister!” she hissed, pointing a manicured finger at Isabella. “She just got back from Paris. She is a nervous wreck! You are stressing her out. And look at Enzo!”

She gestured to Enzo, who was still leaning against the glass door, glaring weakly at Caleb.

“You are causing a scene,” my father added coldly. He adjusted his silk tie. He looked at me with dead, empty eyes. “You need to stop this nonsense right now.”

“Nonsense?” I asked softly.

“Yes,” Richard said firmly. “Sign the divorce papers. Pack your bags and leave the penthouse quietly. Don't ruin Isabella's homecoming. Our family cannot afford this kind of embarrassment. Enzo is a billionaire. We need him happy.”

I stared at them. These were the people who raised me. I was pregnant with their grandchild. My husband was throwing me out on the street. And all they cared about was Isabella’s comfort and Enzo’s money.

The last tiny piece of hope I had for my family shattered into dust. The ice in my chest froze over completely, sealing away any lingering weakness.

I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I just looked at them and smiled.