Not his baby

“Genevieve. Finally. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The raw fury in Desmond’s voice leaked through the speaker, but underneath the anger, there was a desperate, panicked edge.

Genevieve didn’t flinch. She kept her eyes fixed on the city sprawling beneath her window, her fingertips resting lightly against the cold glass. Her face was absolutely calm. To her, this wasn’t an argument; she had already moved past the life he was frantically trying to salvage.

“I believe the divorce papers made that very clear,” she replied. Her tone was smooth and completely unbothered by his rage.

A tense silence stretched over the line. She could hear his breathing—heavy, and tightly strained.

“Clear?” Desmond snapped, his control splintering. “You go online and blast the end of our marriage like some cheap gossip, and now you’re throwing lawyers at me? After everything we built? This isn’t you, Genevieve.”

A faint, humorless smile touched her lips, though her eyes remained detached.

“No, Desmond,” she said softly. “This is exactly me. The version of me that finally woke up.”

“You don’t mean that,” he countered instantly, trying to force his own reality onto her. “You’re hurt. I get it. But this—this is a massive overreaction.”

“An overreaction?” She let out a dry, humorless breath, her voice sharpening just enough to cut through him. “You stepped outside our marriage, got another woman pregnant, and tried to force her into our home as a second wife. And this is where you draw the line?”

The line went dead quiet. The weight of his actions sat heavily between them, a truth he couldn’t deny, even if his pride wouldn’t let him admit it.

“Genevieve—”

“You should actually be thanking me,” she interrupted, her voice dropping to a gentle, almost mocking softness.

That stopped him cold. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You should be thrilled I’m walking away,” she explained. “I’m no longer in your way. You have your mistress now—the one who can give you the legacy I couldn’t. She can take my place, keep up appearances, and build the exact life you wanted.”

“Don’t twist it like that,” he hissed, his frustration hitting a boiling point. “It’s not that simple.”

“It really is,” she shot back. “You made your choice, Desmond. I’m just refusing to stay behind and suffer the consequences of it.”

“You’re my wife,” he commanded, his tone hardening as he tried to use his status as a shield. “You don’t just get to decide to leave.”

Her fingers pressed firmly against the glass, but her voice didn’t waver a fraction. “I already have.”

“Drop the act,” he demanded, completely losing his grip on his temper. “Stop treating this like it’s a done deal. This marriage isn’t over until I say it is.”

A soft, exhausted sigh escaped her lips. “That’s your biggest flaw, Desmond. You truly believe the world revolves around you.”

“You’re losing your mind.”

“For the first time in years,” she whispered, “I’m finally thinking straight.”

The cold finality in her voice hit him harder than any insult.

“You’re really going to throw away our history?” he pushed, his voice cracking with sudden, desperate panic. “Years of marriage, Genevieve. Just like that?”

“You threw it away the moment you touched her,” she replied.

The words fell between them like a heavy iron gate.

“I loved you,” she added, her voice dropping to a quiet, painfully honest note. “Deeply. But I refuse to stay in a house where I’m just tolerated. I won’t be replaced and made to feel like I’m a failure.”

“Genevieve—”

“Sign the papers,” she cut in, her voice returning to that crisp, unbothered calm. “Or fight me in court. It doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m gone.”

Desmond went completely silent, his breathing shallow. He was running out of arguments, running out of threats, and for the first time, he sounded utterly powerless.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded, the authority completely drained from his voice.

“I’ve already done it,” she whispered, and pressed the end-call button.

For a long moment, Genevieve didn’t move. She stood by the window, the phone heavy in her hand, watching her reflection in the glass. She looked like herself, yet entirely transformed from the woman who had stood there just days prior. Something inside her had clicked into place. She didn’t feel broken; she felt completely anchored in her own strength.

Across town, Desmond stared blankly at his darkened screen. The silence in his office felt like a physical weight crushing his chest. A sudden wave of heat washed over him, a blinding surge of anger he used to mask the terrifying panic clawing at his stomach.

“Where are the papers?” he barked at his assistant, who had been standing nearby.

His assistant rushed in, nervously placing the legal documents on his desk. Desmond didn’t even look at them. He grabbed the stack and tore the pages down the middle, the harsh sound of ripping paper echoing through the tense room.

“I don’t want to see them,” he growled, tossing the shredded remains onto the floor. “Any paperwork from her lawyers—tear it up immediately. Keep it away from me.”

As the door clicked shut behind his assistant, the suffocating silence returned. And in that quiet space, a terrifying seed of doubt finally broke through his anger.

Back in her bedroom, Genevieve sank slowly onto the edge of the bed. Her mind drifted away from Desmond, pulled entirely toward the chilling revelation Dr. Manseh had dropped on her.

Her medical files had been tampered with.

The truth was stark, glaring, and impossible to rewrite.

She was not the infertile one. Desmond had severe oligospermia, a condition that meant his sperm count was extremely low, making natural conception very unlikely, and he was not even aware of it.

Her breath hitched as the full weight of the diagnosis crashed down on her, stripping away years of deep internal shame and the cruel, underhanded comments from his family. If his condition had truly been that severe all these years, then the timeline of Olive’s pregnancy did not fully make sense. There was only one logical explanation left, and it made her blood run cold.

Olive’s baby was not his.

And that was why she was going to let him believe the child was his, waiting to see him break when the truth finally came out.

A light ring at the house door shattered her thoughts, pulling her abruptly back to the present.