Across the polished conference table, my former husband, Victor Reynolds, barely glanced my way. He signed his name with a heavy flourish, slid the documents toward the mediator, and immediately dug into his pocket for his phone.
“It is finished,” Victor said into the receiver the second someone picked up. “I am leaving the lawyer’s office right now, so tell me your doctor’s appointment is still scheduled for eleven o’clock.”
I didn’t need to ask who was on the other end of that call, because I already knew the answer. It was Naomi Prescott, the woman Victor had spent the last nine months insisting was merely a close colleague from work.
A wide, proud grin spread across his face — the kind of genuine warmth he hadn’t directed at me in years. “Tell our little boy that his father is already on his way,” he said with absolute delight before ending the call.Only then did he finally turn his eyes toward me, showing no trace of regret. “You heard that, Penelope. Naomi is having a baby boy, and my parents are absolutely thrilled that something wonderful came out of this whole situation.”
I looked down at the official documents between us, aware there was nothing left worth fighting over. Victor had no idea that within the hour, nearly everything he believed about his bright new future would come crashing down.
Victor came from a family that treated the Reynolds name like a prestigious legacy worth preserving at any cost. His father, Walter Reynolds, had built a successful structural engineering firm in Cleveland, where Victor worked as a senior vice president while his sister, Samantha, managed their private commercial properties. Familylaw services
They were comfortable, proud, and thoroughly obsessed with their family line, especially when it came to producing male heirs. Over the years, they had been polite enough toward my two daughters, Abigail and Charlotte, but beneath that thin veneer of courtesy there always lingered a quiet shadow of disappointment.
When nine-year-old Abigail was born, Victor’s mother, Miriam, cradled the newborn in the hospital room and let out a faint sigh. “Well, she is healthy, but maybe the next baby will carry on the family name,” Miriam said with a tight smile while everyone in the room laughed the comment off.
