My Nine Years'Worth

She slowly removed another document from the folder.

“There is something you need to understand before we file.”

My stomach tightened. “What?”

“According to these documents, you are not listed as a beneficiary or co-owner of several of the properties you believed belonged to both of you.”

I found it hard to believe what I had just heard “What do you mean?”

She turned the document toward me. “The house you lived in, the investment accounts, and two of the company's properties were transferred into separate entities before your husband filed the necessary documents.”

My mouth went dry.

“But we built those things together.”

“I understand,” she said gently. “But legally, you don't have any right to claim them as yours”

I shook my head, refusing to believe it. “No. We were married for nine years. Surely I'm entitled to something.”

My throat tightened. I turned my face away before the lawyer could see me break; he didn't even think of Claire, our daughter.

“You may have marital claims depending on the jurisdiction and how the assets were acquired,” she explained. “But these documents significantly complicate matters.”

She slid another paper across the desk.

I picked it up, my eyes moved over the date. Three years ago? My fingers tightened around the document. I read the sentence again, hoping I had misunderstood it, and my fingers began to tremble.

“He had planned everything?” I whispered.

“I can't tell you what his intention was,” my lawyer replied. “But these transfers were made long before you decided to file for divorce.”

I stared at the papers as the truth slowly sank in.

He hadn't just betrayed me. He had been preparing for the day I would leave him, and I had walked into this divorce believing I still had a life to reclaim.

“ What should I do ?” I asked calmly.

“I'm not going to tell you that you'll walk away with half of everything. I can't promise that. But I also wouldn't advise you to sign anything before we investigate the company's records, property documents, and financial contributions.

“Okay, thank you.” I stood up and walked towards the door; hurt yet a spark of hope stirred up within me.

I barely made it past the office entrance before a sharp pain tore through my abdomen.n, I pressed my hand against my abdomen and took another step. Another cramp hit harder this time. I stopped beside the pavement, gripping the wall for support. I sensed something trickle down my legs, and when I looked down, I saw blood! Fear crept into my heart, and I cried, “ No, no “ I said “My baby!”

I clenched my fist against my belly and shouted, “ Ahhhh” The memory of my misery came back rushing: my husband's betrayal, my in-laws' mistreatment. I screamed, “ Anyone, please help! I need to go to the hospital!”

I reached for my phone; before I could unlock it, my knee buckled.

“Hey”, someone caught me before I could hit the ground.

………

My eyes opened slowly, the room coming into focus one blur at a time. At first, all I could make out was the outline of a man sitting beside my hospital bed. His face was partially shadowed, but I could see the sharp line of his jaw, the straight bridge of his nose, and the dark eyes fixed on me. He was dressed in a dark suit, his expression unreadable.

Something about his face looked familiar; Adrian King, everyone in California's business world knew that name. Adrian King was the billionaire behind King Enterprises, a man whose face appeared regularly in business magazines. He was sitting in his wheelchair beside my bed. His gaze fixed on me

Just as I tried to sit up, the door opened. A doctor walked into the room, followed by a nurse carrying a small file. He glanced at the monitor beside my bed before looking at me.

“Oh, you're awake,” he said, approaching my bedside. “How are you feeling?”

I opened my mouth, but my throat felt dry.

“ I'm fine, but my stomach hurts,” I whispered. My hand instinctively moved toward my abdomen.

The doctor lowered her gaze “We tried all we could, but you lost the baby. I'm sorry, ma'am “

The words echoed in my head: You lost the baby, I'm sorry, ma'am”

“ Usually, miscarriage before twelve to thirteen weeks does not need hospitalization; however, you lost a significant amount of blood, and your vitals are still unstable. You need to be here for at least 2 days. Let's be sure there are no complications.”

She continued.

“ I’ll prescribe some medication to help with the pain and prevent any complications. The nurse will bring them to you shortly, and you’ll need to get plenty of rest.” She walked out.

I didn't know when and how it happened, but I felt Adrian’s arm wrapped around my frame, and he said, “Calm down, please”.

My cries echoed with raw emotions; the past couple of days had been the worst days of my life. I felt his embrace tightening around my waist and back. Despite not understanding why he was offering me this support, I didn't object. At this point, I'm open to accepting comfort from anyone.

I also strengthened my hold around him. I cried and cried until my tears ran down, thinking of the betrayal I have received from most people in my life.

He pulled me away; my hands gently landed on my lap, and he fixed his gaze on me “You need to rest; you have lost a lot of blood.

I felt Adrian hand on my hands. He brought out his card and handed it over to me; my gaze drifted to him.

“ Call me if you need help, whatever it may be “ I watched him move his motorized wheelchair out of the room.

After Adrian left the room, the door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the silence. My gaze fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting over my stomach. Different thoughts flashed through my mind; I thought of what could become of me after the divorce, what would become of Claire, my daughter. My lower lip trembled as I fought back my tears.

I whispered to myself, “If I won't fight for myself, then I must fight for my daughter.”