Chapter 3
The twins were born at thirty-two weeks.
Leo first.
Then Grace.
Tiny.
Fierce.
Too small for the world but already fighting it.
The private NICU was quiet compared to the chaos I expected.
Soft alarms.
Careful footsteps.
Nurses who spoke gently near incubators.
Dr. Nathan Cole explained everything twice because he saw I was trying to understand while pain and terror pulled me apart.
Dominic was present for the birth.
Technically.
He stood near my shoulder, checked his phone between updates, and asked three times how long recovery would take.
Not theirs.
Mine.
When Grace’s oxygen dipped slightly the first night, I cried so hard the incision pain blurred the room.
Dominic said, “You need to calm down. The staff knows what they’re doing.”
Dr. Cole looked at him once.
A doctor’s look.
Professional, but not fooled.
Natalie sent flowers the next morning.
White roses.
No card.
I knew anyway.
Dominic said they were from “the office.”
His mother, Victoria, called to say premature babies were often stronger than they looked, but she hoped “all this drama” would not derail Dominic’s meetings.
I stopped answering after that.
On the fourth day, my nurse asked whether Dominic would be staying overnight.
I looked at the empty chair beside my bed.
“No.”
She did not comment.
That kindness almost broke me.
On the fifth day, Dominic arrived early.
Black suit.
Perfect tie.
Freshly shaved.
Natalie behind him in red, one hand resting on her pregnant belly.
At first, I thought something had happened.
Some emergency.
Some paperwork for the twins.
Then I saw the folder.
Divorce.
Custody.
Financial disclosure.
Except nothing was disclosed.
Dominic claimed the accounts were empty.
The house was under corporate protection.
My personal cards had been restricted due to “fraud concerns.”
The household staff had been notified not to take instructions from me.
And the twins?
He wanted “temporary decision-making authority” because I was medically weakened.
I stared at the papers.
Then at Natalie’s diamonds.
Then at Dominic.
He smiled.
Not kindly.
Efficiently.
Like a surgeon making an incision.
“Sign it,” he said. “I drained every account.”
He thought that sentence was the end.
May you like
He had no idea my grandfather was already on the elevator.
Read the full story 👉 Dominic did not bring divorce papers alone; he brought a plan to strip Audrey of money, authority, and even control over the twins.
