Chapter Two

" Finish up your meal so Ari can drop you off at Grandma's,” I tell Lila, placing the glass of milk beside her. 

A set of footsteps has me turning my head to the staircase. My heart sinks when I see Noah, Isabella and her daughter Ivy coming down. Isabella's hand in my husband's and he's smiling down at her like she's all he can see. 

“Ari," Noah calls to our driver who's standing by the door with a cup of coffee. “Ivy has a sleepover at her friend's place. You'll take her there once she's finished upstairs " 

Lila pouts and I hear her complain before she voices it. “ But I have piano rehearsal with Grandma tonight." 

Noah glares at her and she squirms in her seat. " Ivy has a school assignment to do with her classmates. Ari will drive her there before taking you anywhere “

His tone is the clipped and final. I want to object, but I don't have it in me. 

Isabella and her child have been here barely week and he's cared more about Ivy than he's ever cared for our daughter her whole life. 

“Should I serve your dinner? I ask instead. 

" I'm not hungry,” comes his curt reply. "Head to the gala once you're done here. Don't wait for me to pick you up.”

I nod and force a smile. No matter how much my heart tries to deny it, I know exactly why we won't be attending the gala as a couple. 

Without another word, he leaves the house, Isabella following behind. I don't miss the evil smirk she gives me. 

With a sigh, I head to the kitchen with the intention of doing the dinner dishes before I head out. 

“Are you going to tell him?" Ari’s voice startles me and I almost drop the plate I'm holding. I turn around with a hand on my chest and glare at him. 

“Jesus, Ari!" 

“Will you tell him?" He asks again, ignoring my reaction. 

I don't need to ask what he means. I know exactly what he's talking about. 

Five days ago, I filed for a divorce and I was so ready to give Noah the papers. But then I found out I was pregnant. For some foolishly insane reason, that piece of information gave me hope. 

Maybe, just maybe. 

“No," I tell him, returning to the plates. “I plan on telling him tonight during the gala. He's going to win the CEO of the year award and I think that'll be the perfect moment to tell him.”

" I'll take a guess and say you have something to do with him whining that award.”

I shrug, not willing to dwell on the matter. It doesn't matter who pulled what strings, all that matters is he deserves it. He works so hard and no one will be a better fit for that award. 

“Are you still going to give him the divorce papers?" Ari asks. 

I shake my head. “I'll give him a chance. I'll tell him about the pregnancy and see how he reacts.”

Ari scoffs and shakes his head. " Amara, he didn't care when you had Lila. He hasn't cared about you or her for the past four years. Fuck that, I can count the number of times he's had a real and civil conversation with Lila on one hand. What makes you think this will be any different.” 

I don't say anything, because honestly a big part of me knows that the pregnancy will not be of any importance to him. 

But then again, a small, stupid, lovesick part of me still hopes. 

I dry my hands on one of the rags on the rack and turn to him. “I'm heading to go change and then I'll be off. Make sure the kids arrive at their various places safely." 

~~~

An hour later, I step into the grand ballroom of the Harrington Grand Hotel, the crystal chandeliers casting warm light over hundreds of the city’s elite. I’m wearing a simple but elegant navy gown that hugs my figure just enough to feel confident, my hair swept up with soft tendrils framing my face. In my hand is a glass of sparkling water disguised as white wine. I can’t risk alcohol with the tiny life growing inside me.

Julian spots me immediately and waves me over, his warm smile cutting through the sea of designer suits and glittering jewels. He’s been my lawyer and closest friend since childhood , the only person besides Ari who knows the full truth about that night. 

I shake my head, chasing away unwanted memories.

“Amara, you look stunning,” Julian says, clinking his glass gently against mine. “Nervous?”

“A little,” I admit, forcing a smile as we stand near the edge of the crowd. “But tonight could change everything. He’s winning CEO of the Year. Maybe… maybe when he hears about the baby, he’ll see what he’s been missing.”

Julian’s expression softens with concern, but he doesn’t argue. 

We chat quietly about safe topics; the latest charity gala trends, how Lila’s piano skills are improving, how my parents are doing, while my eyes keep drifting across the room.

There he is.

Noah stands among the elite businessmen, looking every bit the powerful billionaire in his tailored black tuxedo, his dark hair perfectly styled. Isabella is on his arm like she belongs there, her red gown clinging to her curves, diamonds sparkling at her throat. She laughs at something he says, leaning in close, her hand resting possessively on his chest. Noah smiles down at her, that rare, genuine smile I’ve only seen in fleeting moments during our marriage. The kind of smile that used to make my heart flutter.

I catch fragments of rumours as I sip my drink.

“…Frost brought his mistress instead of his wife…”

“…Poor Amara, always playing the devoted little housewife…”

“…Contract marriage, what did she expect?”

“...She tied him down with a child he never wanted. You can't blame the man…”

The words slide off me like water on glass. I’ve heard worse in the last week since Isabella and Ivy moved in. 

My focus is on Noah, on us, on the tiny heartbeat I felt confirmed at the doctor’s office yesterday, our second child. 

This time, maybe he’ll care.

The ceremony begins with fanfare. Speeches about innovation, leadership, and empire-building. When the announcer calls Noah’s name for CEO of the Year, the room erupts in applause. Pride swells in my chest despite everything. He worked so hard for this. Late nights, endless meetings, the heart condition he ignores. He deserves it.

Noah steps onto the stage, accepting the gleaming crystal award with a nod of acknowledgment. Isabella claps enthusiastically from the front row, beaming like the perfect partner.

I can’t hold back the happiness that bubbles up — foolish, desperate happiness — and I set my glass down, weaving through the crowd toward him as the applause dies down. 

This is the moment. 

I’ll congratulate him, pull him aside, and tell him about the baby. Maybe his eyes will soften the way they did the night Lila was conceived. 

Maybe he’ll finally see me.

“Noah!” I call softly, reaching the edge of the stage area just as he descends the steps.

Before I can say more, a loud voice cuts through the lingering murmurs.

“Amara! There you are, my love!”

A man pushes through the crowd, tall, disheveled in a cheap suit, his face flushed with anger or alcohol or both. 

I don’t recognize him at first, then as I stare at him I recall where I know him. A brief, meaningless flirtation years ago before Noah, someone I barely knew.

He grabs my arm, his grip too tight. “Amara Bennett, or should I say Frost now? You think you can just run off and play billionaire wife while carrying my child? Leaving me behind? After everything we've shared?”

Gasps ripple through the ballroom, and cameras flash. The elite turn, phones already recording.

My blood runs cold. “What? No! You’re mistaken. I don’t…”

He laughs bitterly, pulling out his phone and waving it like evidence. “Mistaken? We were together four years ago, right before you trapped Noah Frost with that first pregnancy. You told me you wanted a better life for our daughter. We kept our relationship secret, and now you’re pregnant again.” Tears start streaming down his face. " Please just come back to me, baby. I don't want any money. I just want you.”

He shoves the phone toward Noah, who has frozen beside Isabella. On the screen are old photos — blurry, manipulated perhaps — of me with this man at some party long ago, at beaches I don't recall, in a hotel room and several other places, and what looks like forged medical documents claiming paternity.

“Lila is mine,” the man insists loudly, voice carrying across the silent room. “And the new baby? Amara came to me weeks ago, crying about how Noah neglects her. She said she needed real love. This child is ours. You’ve been raising my daughter all these years, Frost!”

The room explodes in whispers turning to outright shock.

Noah’s face darkens, his blue eyes turning to ice as he stares at me. The award in his hand seems forgotten. Isabella steps closer to him, her expression one of feigned sympathy, but her eyes gleam with triumph.

“Noah,” I whisper, stepping toward him, my hands trembling. “Please, it’s not true. I’ve never… I swear on Lila’s life, that man is lying. I have only ever been with you. Lila is yours. This baby is yours.”

Tears burn my eyes. 

I reach for the envelope in my clutch; the divorce papers I brought as a last resort, or perhaps as a test. My fingers shake as I pull them out.

Noah’s voice cuts through the chaos like a whip. “Enough.”

He snatches the papers from my hand, his grip bruising. The crowd falls deathly silent, every eye on us.

“You disgusting gold-digger,” Noah spits, his voice loud enough for the entire ballroom to hear. “Four years I tolerated you, the quiet little charity wife who smiled and played housewife while spreading her legs for anyone with a sob story. And now this? Parading your bastard child as mine? Claiming another pregnancy to trap me again?”

Tears stream down my face. I shake my head frantically. “Noah, no… please listen to me. I love you. I’ve always loved you. That man is lying. There are no photos, no proof because nothing happened. Lila has your hair, your stubbornness… she’s yours. The baby… our baby…”

He laughs coldly, the sound devoid of any warmth. “Love? You call sneaking around and getting knocked up by some lowlife love? You’re nothing but a slut who saw dollar signs when my mother pushed this sham marriage. I should have listened to Isabella from the start. She warned me you were using me.”

The words slice deeper than any knife. I sob openly now, my voice breaking as I beg in front of hundreds of watching eyes, phones still recording every humiliating second.

“Please, Noah… believe me. I’ve never betrayed you. I waited up for you on your birthday. I baked the cake with Lila. I rode in the ambulance with you. I’ve given you everything… my heart, my youth, our daughter. This baby is yours. Don’t do this…”

Isabella places a hand on Noah’s arm, murmuring something soft, but he shrugs her off, his fury fully directed at me.

He won't believe me. 

I hand the divorce papers to him. “If you don't believe me then sign these divorce papers. Free yourself from the burden of being my husband.”

“Sign the damn papers first” he snarls, thrusting them back at me along with a pen someone hands him. “Right here. In front of everyone. I’m done with your lies and your gold-digging schemes. You and your bastard children can rot.”

My hands shake so violently I can barely hold the pen as I pen my signature. 

Through blinding tears, I watch as he scrawls his signature across the divorce papers with vicious strokes, the ink bleeding like my heart. He shoves the signed documents into my chest.

“There. You’re free. And so am I. Get the hell out of my life, Amara. Take your lies and your fake pregnancy with you.”

The crowd murmurs in a mix of shock and gossip. Some look pitying, ithers judgmental. Julian pushes forward, calling my name. “Amara! Wait!”

But I can’t breathe. The humiliation burns hotter than fire. My kind heart, the one that endured four years of neglect, finally shatters completely under the weight of his public rejection.

I turn and run, heels clicking desperately across the marble floor, tears blurring the glittering ballroom into streaks of light. Julian’s voice calls after me again. 

 “Amara, stop! Let me help!”

But I don’t slow down.

The grand doors loom ahead. I burst through them into the cool night air, the city lights spinning around me. My chest heaves with sobs. 

The baby, our baby, Lila, everything I loved, thrown back in my face as worthless.

I pull out my phone with shaky hands and dial the number I've been ignoring for weeks. 

“Amara, finally!”

" I'm coming home, Dad. I'm divorced.” The words taste like chalk in my mouth..

I don’t look where I’m going. 

The street is busy, horns blaring, but all I hear is Noah’s voice calling me a slut, a gold-digger. 

The pain is too much.

I don't hear what father says next because I'm blinded by headlights.

The impact is brutal. Metal slamming into my side with crushing force. My body flies backward, pain exploding through every nerve, and I hit the pavement hard, the world tilting violently. Warm blood trickles from my head, my side, soaking the navy gown.

Voices shout in the distance. Julian’s frantic call. Footsteps running.

But as darkness closes in, all I can think about is the tiny life inside me, fragile and innocent.

My baby… please… be okay…