Chapter 4—She's Pregnant?

MAXWELL

She signed the divorce.

The jazz in the upscale bar felt too loud tonight. I was on my third whiskey, barely tasting it.

Denver leaned back in the booth. “Lunatic. If you’re already regretting it, then you shouldn’t have divorced her in the first place.”

“I’m not regretting it,” I said, staring into the glass.

“Bullshit.” Denver snorted. “We’re supposed to be drinking and having fun, but you’ve been staring into that glass like it owes you money. If you’re going to sit here and brood, then you shouldn’t have rushed the divorce so soon.”

“It’s been years, Denver. Years of the same thing,” I muttered. “She just found out about Elise and Ambrose that day. What was I supposed to do? Keep lying?”

“You could’ve waited,” he shot back. “You could’ve handled it better. Monique is one hell of a woman. Sexy, beautiful, and the most obedient, submissive wife I’ve ever seen. Never nagged you once. Most men would kill for a woman like that.”

My grip tightened on the glass. “Watch your mouth. That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Ex-wife,” Denver corrected with a smirk. “You made sure of that when she signed the papers, remember? Too bad she couldn’t get pregnant for you though. That was the deal breaker, wasn’t it?”

Ex-wife. The word landed like a slap. I hated how easily it rolled off his tongue. I hated how final it sounded.

 

“Don’t,” I growled. “She tried. We both tried. It wasn’t just her fault.”

Denver chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “What? It’s true, isn’t it? Five years and nothing. Meanwhile Elise gives you a son in a one night stand. Life’s ironic.”

I wanted to tell him to shut the hell up again, but the words stuck. Because he wasn’t wrong. That had been the breaking point. The one thing I told myself I needed. An heir. Legacy. The Lohr name continuing. And Monique…

I rubbed my face, frustrated. “Just drop it.”

“So tell me honestly,” he pressed. “How does it feel? Elise has been crazy about you since she was a kid. Now she finally has you. No more hiding. How does that feel?”

I stared at the table for a long moment. “I love her,” I said quietly.

Denver raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Because you don’t sound convinced.”

“I said I love her,” I repeated, sharper this time. “She’s the mother of my son. We’re going to be a family. That’s what matters.”

“You keep saying that, but you don’t look like a man who just got everything he wanted,” Denver replied.

Before I could open my mouth to answer, his gaze flicked past my shoulder. “Trevor’s here. You ready to drop the rest of the bomb on him?”

I turned around and saw Trevor. I nodded once, jaw tight. We had invited him tonight for one reason—to tell him the truth.

The divorce was final. I was marrying Elise. Ambrose was my son. He deserved to hear it from me before the news leaked.

He was my best friend too, but he talked too much, and he was too close to Monique to be trusted with that secret.

Trevor approached the booth with that easy, confident stride of his, clapping me hard on the shoulder before sliding in beside Denver. 

“Max! Denver! Sorry I’m late—last-minute patient ran long.” He flagged down the waitress for a drink, still grinning like the night was young and full of good things. “Man, I have to say… I thought this was going to be a celebration, but you two look like you’re at a funeral. What’s with the long faces? I figured you called me here to pop bottles over the good news.”

I frowned, the whiskey suddenly sitting heavy in my stomach. “Good news?”

Trevor laughed. “Come on, don’t play dumb. Monique’s pregnant, Max. Five, no, six weeks along. Size of a peppercorn on the ultrasound I did myself. She came into my office a week ago, glowing. I assumed that’s why you wanted me here tonight—to celebrate finally becoming a dad after all these years of trying. Hell, I even brought the extra scan printout just in case.”

The booth went dead silent.

Denver’s glass stopped halfway to his mouth.

My heart slammed against my ribs. “What did you just say?”

Trevor’s smile slowly faded. “She’s pregnant, Max.”

“She’s… pregnant?” My voice came out hoarse.

My stomach dropped like I’d been punched in the gut. The world narrowed to the roar in my ears. Pregnant. Monique was pregnant. Carrying my child. The one thing I had convinced myself she could never give me.

She knew. That last message she sent, saying she has “something important” she wanted to tell me in person. It all clicked into place with sickening clarity. 

Trevor’s smile faltered as he looked between us. “Wait… you didn’t know? She hasn’t told you yet? She was over the moon, Max. I thought for sure she would’ve run straight home to you.”

Denver’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

Monique was carrying my child?

But she signed the divorce papers just like that?

“Damn it…” The words left me in a broken whisper. 

Trevor’s grin had completely vanished. “Max… what the hell is going on?”

I ignored him and pulled out my phone. I dialed Monique’s number. Straight to voicemail. I tried again. Blocked.

“Goddammit!” I slammed the phone on the table. “She blocked me.”

Denver leaned forward. “Max, what are you going to do?”

“I have to find her,” I said, standing up fast. “I’m going to Chelsea’s clinic. If anyone knows where she is, it’s her.”

Trevor stood too. “Max, hold on—”

“I don’t have time to explain. I need to talk to her now.”

–

The drive to Chelsea’s clinic felt endless. My hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles hurt. 

I angrily threw my cellphone onto the passenger seat after failing to contact Monique again. Blocked. Every single call. Straight to nothing.

“Fuck!” I slammed my foot on the accelerator, the engine roaring as I sped toward Chelsea’s clinic. 

She had signed the divorce papers without telling me about our child.

I deserved to know. I had every right to know. What the hell was she planning to do—hide the pregnancy? Raise my baby without me? Keep it a secret forever?

I couldn’t accept it.

I pulled up in front of the sleek glass building, slammed the car door, and stormed inside.

“Monique!” I shouted, voice echoing through the waiting area. “Monique, come out! We need to talk right now!”

The receptionist jumped up from her desk, eyes wide with alarm. “Sir! You can’t barge in here like this!”

“Where’s Chelsea?” I demanded, pushing past her toward the hallway. “Tell her Maxwell Lohr is here. Now!”

“Sir, I’m calling the police if you don’t leave immediately!” she warned, phone already in her hand.

Before she could dial, Chelsea’s office door flew open. She stepped out, her face twisting from shock to pure fury the second she saw me.

“Maxwell?” she snapped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Where’s Monique?” I asked, losing every ounce of composure. “I need to talk to her right now.”

“Are you serious?” Chelsea’s face twisted with disgust. “For what, exactly? After everything you did to her? I used to respect you, but now you're nothing more than a big fucking nuisance. After everything you put Monique through, you really think I'd let you anywhere near her? The divorce is final, isn't it? So what more do you want from her? Haven't you hurt her enough? Is there something else you're after? Why don't you just say it to my face so I can tell you exactly where to shove it?”

“Chelsea,” I took a deep, heavy breath and said it plainly. “I know Monique is pregnant right now. Trevor told me tonight. So we need to settle this between us.”

I saw the shock flash across her face. “How do you—” Her eyebrows furrowed. “What does it matter to you? Pregnant or not, you two are done, so stay the hell out of it! Sarah, call the police and get this man arrested for causing a disturbance—”

“So you plan to hide that she’s pregnant?!” I seethed, stepping closer. “Tell me! Am I the father or not?”

“Really?!” Chelsea's fury flared, her voice trembling with rage. “What do you take Monique for? Some woman who sleeps around, so you wouldn't be the father?!”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. She looked away for a brief moment, then snapped her glare back at me.

“You're not welcome here! Whether you are the father or not is none of your business anymore. You two are divorced. So just leave us alone, okay? Never show your face to me or Monique ever again!”

My face crumpled. “Let me talk to her. Please... just this once.” I pleaded, my voice tight with frustration. “I promise this will be the last time. We got divorced, but we never had a proper conversation. We never got the chance to clear anything up. I just want to know more about her pregnancy.”

My voice faltered. “I still have the right to know.”

Chelsea gritted her teeth and was silenced for a minute as if hesitating.

“Tsk!” Chelsea clicked her tongue, her voice sharp with irritation. “Monique isn't here. She already left. She's at the hospital for a check-up.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I'll tell you where she is, but listen carefully, Maxwell. Monique has already made her decision. She's never coming back to you, no matter what happens. Pregnant or not, whether you're the father or not, she's done with you... and your entire family.”

For a brief moment, her expression turned deadly serious.

“I'll let you two talk one last time. But after this, you'll never see her again.”

I clenched my jaw and gave a single nod. As Chelsea told me the name of the hospital, I turned without another word and hurried back to my car.

Who the hell was Chelsea to make that decision for her?

If only I'd found out about Monique's pregnancy sooner, then maybe...