Chapter 2

Two days later, the lawyer came.

I heard the doorbell ring while I was sitting in the living room.

When I opened the door, I saw a middle-aged man in a three-piece grey suit, carrying a thick folder in his hand.

"Mrs. Alissa?"

I nodded.

"Edward Whitmore," he said while handing me his business card. "I'm from Whitmore & Associates law firm. I've been sent by the Kingsley family to handle the divorce proceedings. May I come in? We need to talk inside, this is quite complicated."

I stepped aside, letting him in. He walked to the living room with steady steps, placing his folder on the wooden table that me and Damian bought together at the antique market two months ago.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked.

"No, thank you. Let's get straight to the point." He opened the folder, pulling out stacks of documents. "This is the divorce petition. Damian has already signed it."

"I'm six months pregnant. Does UK allow divorce while the wife is pregnant?" I asked.

"In UK, madam, there's no law that specifically prohibits divorce during pregnancy. Unlike some states in America or other countries, divorce laws here don't restrict filing based on pregnancy conditions."

I swallowed. "So, can I be divorced while pregnant?"

"Legally, yes. But there are a few things to consider. You could file a counterclaim, sue for child support, or even contest the divorce on the grounds that the marriage is still worth saving. But..."

"But?"

"But Damian's family has already prepared evidence that this marriage was built on lies. They have witnesses from the night of that party, Damian's friends, who will swear that they saw you with another man."

I gasped. "That's not true!"

"I know, but in court, the testimony of three or four people is stronger than one person's testimony. Especially if those witnesses come from a prominent family."

"Are you here to help me?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, I'm here to inform you that Damian's family is offering an out-of-court settlement. They're offering a compensation of 100 thousand pounds, provided that you sign this agreement and agree to never claim custody or child support in the future."

I laughed bitterly. "100 thousand pounds to sell my child?"

"To relinquish your rights over them. They want to make sure you'll never come demanding anything later on."

I stood up, my hands trembling. "Leave. I'm not signing anything. I'll fight them in court."

Mr. Whitmore stood up slowly, organizing his documents.

"I expected you'd say that but I must warn you. The lawyers they've hired are the best in England. They've never lost a case like this."

"I'm still going to fight," I said.

Mr. Whitmore nodded. "Then we'll meet in court. I hope you've already prepared your own lawyer."

And he left.

***

The trial began three weeks later. I came with a cheap lawyer I found from a newspaper ad, an old man named Mr. Henderson who had already retired but agreed to help me because he felt sorry for my situation.

In the courtroom, I saw Damian sitting on the defendant's bench. He was wearing a perfect suit, his hair neatly styled. Next to him, I saw his legal team consisting of five people, all wearing black robes with cold expressions. And then I saw her.

Laura.

She was sitting in the audience, behind Damian, in an elegant white dress that contrasted sharply with my bulging belly. Her long blonde hair was beautifully flowing, and her smile was small when my eyes met hers. She came all the way from America to watch my downfall.

The trial moved quickly. The witnesses spoke one by one, all of them Damian's friends, all swearing that they saw me with another man that night. When it was my turn to testify, my voice trembled a little.

"Damian was the only man who touched me that night. I'm pregnant because of him," I said.

But the evidence they presented was stronger. They showed photos from that party, where I was indeed seen talking to several men. They showed messages that I supposedly sent to Damian's friend, even though I never sent them. They played CCTV footage where Damian and I were seen arguing in the first week of our marriage, and their lawyers interpreted it as "a marriage that was dysfunctional from the start."

My lawyer, Mr. Henderson, tried to fight back but I could see he was overwhelmed. He was no match for the best legal team money could buy.

The judge, an old man with thick glasses and a serious expression, announced his verdict after two days of trial.

"After hearing all the testimonies and reviewing the evidence, the court rules that the marriage between Damian Kingsley and Alissa Mariana has irretrievably broken down. The divorce is granted. Regarding custody, since there is no strong evidence linking the defendant to the baby carried by the plaintiff, the court denies the claim for child support until valid DNA evidence is provided after the baby is born."

"I lost," I said to Mr. Henderson.

He squeezed my hand, looking at me with pity. "I'm sorry. I tried my best."

I nodded, holding back my tears.

After the trial ended, I saw Damian and Laura walking out of the courtroom. Laura was holding Damian's hand tightly, her fingers adorned with a sparkling engagement ring. She looked at me with a small victorious smile.

I walked toward them, my steps steady despite my heavy belly.

"Damian," I said.

He turned around, his face instantly shifting from cheerful to cold.

"What do you want? It's all over and you've already lost," he said.

"I know but I just want to say something."

"There's nothing you need to say, it's all done. You should leave and take care of your baby," I said.

I ignored him, my eyes still fixed on Damian. "Are you really not going to acknowledge it?"

Damian stepped closer, his face only inches from mine. He looked at me with an icy stare, like a stranger I had never known.

"You've already heard the verdict. The court ruled there's no evidence that this child is mine and I will never acknowledge it. I'm going to America with Laura and starting a new life. The life I was supposed to live. So forget me. Never look for me again and if one day that child looks for his father, tell him his father doesn't exist because for me, that child doesn't exist either," Damian said.

Laura smiled at me, then grabbed Damian's hand and pulled him away. I watched them walk toward the luxury car waiting in front of the courthouse.

My hand then moved to stroke my belly. Since earlier, my baby kept moving as if he knew his mother was feeling sad.

"When you grow up, make your father regret leaving us," I said in my heart.