Whispers Of a Forgotten Love

The Lancaster family’s annual check-up was held at St. Alden Medical Center, the most expensive hospital on the East Coast. The floors were polished so well that the chandeliers above shimmered in their reflection. It was the kind of place most people would only see on TV—quiet, private, and filled with the scent of fresh lilies.

Everyone was here—except my husband, Adrian Lancaster. He was the heir to the Lancaster Group, the current CEO, and apparently too busy to be with his family. Or maybe just too busy for me.

I sat quietly in the waiting lounge, my purse resting on my lap. I kept my back straight and my face calm. I had learned over time that in this family, showing emotion was like showing weakness.

Then I heard her voice.

“Well, well… a gold-diggers in designer heels,” my sister-in-law, Brianna Lancaster, said as she walked in with a smirk.

“If you hadn’t climbed into my brother’s bed, do you think you’d ever set foot in a place like this?”

I met her gaze, refusing to let her see any crack in my composure. Her chestnut hair was curled perfectly, her makeup flawless, her cream blazer cut to fit her slim figure. She looked beautiful, but I knew the ugliness that hid behind that polished exterior.

“And is that why you’re divorced again?” I asked, my voice steady. “Because your husbands couldn’t afford to bring you here?”

Her smile faltered instantly. Brianna hated being reminded of her string of failed marriages. Three, to be exact—each one shorter than the last. Just last month she had moved back into the Lancaster estate after her latest breakup.

I turned my face away, hoping to end the conversation. But Brianna’s voice only grew sharper.

“What are you so proud of? If you hadn’t trapped my brother with the baby in your belly, he never would have married you. Even God couldn’t stand you—so He punished you by taking that baby away.”

The words pierced me like cold steel. My grip on my purse tightened until my knuckles ached.

Two weeks after our wedding, I had lost my baby—my first child—when I fell down the marble staircase at the Lancaster estate. I still remembered the way my body hit the cold floor, the metallic taste in my mouth, the sound of my own scream echoing in the empty hall.

I stood, ready to slap her, but a voice stopped me in my tracks.

“That’s enough,” said Dora Lancaster, Adrian’s mother. Her pale eyes locked on me with an icy disdain I had felt since the day I married her son. “Remember, the only reason you’re here today is so the doctors can see if you can still bear an heir for the Lancaster family. You’ve already wasted one opportunity.”

My chest tightened at her words. Wasted. That was how she saw my miscarriage—like a broken item I had carelessly thrown away.

Brianna’s lips curved into a cruel smile.

“And even if she does get pregnant again, what’s the point? Adrian’s real fiancee, Linda Yates, is back. She’ll be kicked out soon enough. If she had any dignity, Elena, she’d divorce him now instead of clinging to our family’s money.”

I didn’t respond. I had learned that silence often hurt them more than arguing.

“Enough.” The voice came from the other side of the lounge, deep and firm.

We all turned. Charles Lancaster, Adrian’s grandfather, stepped out of a private room. His silver hair was combed back neatly, his cane tapping once against the marble. Even in his eighties, his presence filled the room, commanding attention without effort.

His sharp eyes swept over all of us before landing on his assistant, Peter Lane.

“Where is Adrian?” Charles asked.

Peter hesitated and glanced at me before replying.

“Sir… Mr. Lancaster went to Miss Yates birthday party.”

The words made my stomach twist. Today wasn’t just Linda Yates birthday—it was also my wedding anniversary. Apparently, I was the only one who remembered.

Charles’s expression hardened. “Call him. Tell him to come for his check-up after the party.”

I nodded and pulled out my phone. My hands felt cold as I dialed Adrian’s number. The call rang several times before going to voicemail.

I tried again. This time, it was rejected instantly.

Something inside me gave way. Without thinking too much, I typed three words:

Let’s divorce.

I hit send.

Brianna’s laughter cut through the silence. “Finally growing a spine, are we?”

I ignored her, sitting back down in the leather chair. My posture stayed perfect, my expression calm, but inside, my heart felt heavier than it had in years. I thought of the day I married Adrian—his face calm, almost bored, as he spoke his vows. I had told myself that love could grow with time. But how could love grow in a house where another woman’s name lingered in every corner?

Charles looked at me, his voice a touch softer. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, finish your check-up.”

I followed the nurse down the hallway. The walls were spotless white, the floor shining under the soft lights. Passing a mirrored wall, I caught my reflection—black dress tailored to perfection, hair smooth, makeup neat. To outsiders, I probably looked like the perfect wife of a powerful man.

Inside, I felt hollow.

The doctor greeted me politely. “Mrs. Lancaster, please have a seat. We’ll begin shortly.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands folded in my lap. The smell of disinfectant filled the air. My mind drifted back to that day on the staircase. Adrian had been “away on business” at the time, but deep down, I had always suspected he was with Linda.

“Mrs. Lancaster,” the doctor said gently, pulling me back to the present, “we’ll run some scans to check your reproductive health. Please lie back.”

I nodded silently and did as he asked.

Half an hour later, I returned to the lounge. Brianna was scrolling through her phone, Helen was speaking softly into hers, and Charles had his eyes closed, resting his hands over his cane.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Adrian: We’ll talk when I get home.

No apology. No explanation.

I slipped my phone back into my purse without replying.

Through the tall glass windows, I could see the city beyond. Cars moved steadily through the streets. People hurried along the sidewalks. Life went on, untouched by my pain.

I drew in a slow breath. I had married into the Lancaster family thinking I would find security and a place to belong. Instead, I had walked straight into a gilded cage.

And now, I had just unlocked the door.