PART 4: The Divorce That Wasn’t Clean
PART 4: The Divorce That Wasn’t Clean
Ethan returned to Emily’s room after midnight.
She was no longer in the hallway.
The maternal-fetal oncology team had moved her into a private treatment room where machines blinked softly beside her bed. A nurse adjusted the IV pump while Emily lay on her side, one hand resting protectively over her stomach.
She looked smaller in the bed.
Too small for the amount of pain she had been carrying.
Ethan stood in the doorway, afraid to enter.
Emily opened her eyes.
“You called her.”
He nodded.
Emily looked away.
“She told you I was lying.”
“No,” Ethan said. “She proved you weren’t.”
Emily turned back slowly.
Ethan stepped inside and sat beside the bed.
He wanted to touch her hand, but he did not assume he had the right anymore.
“My mother hired the attorney,” he said.
Emily stared at him.
“What?”
“The one who came to you. The one who said he represented the divorce.”
Emily’s face went blank with shock.
“He said you sent him.”
“I didn’t.”
“He had your financial statements.”
“My mother could access them through the family office.”
“He had your signature.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“Then we find out how.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
For months, she had held one cruel belief inside her chest.
Ethan knew.
Ethan chose to leave.
Ethan saw the diagnosis and walked away.
Now the belief was cracking, and what came through was not relief.
It was agony.
“Why didn’t you come?” she whispered.
Ethan’s face broke.
“I thought you told me not to.”
“I begged you to come.”
“I never got it.”
“I sent you the ultrasound.”
“I never saw it.”
“I waited for you.”
He closed his eyes.
Those words hurt worse than anger.
Emily had waited.
Sick.
Pregnant.
Terrified.
And he had stayed away because his pride was easier to hold than doubt.
“I should have come anyway,” he said.
Emily looked at him.
No softness.
Not yet.
“Yes.”
Ethan accepted it.
No defense.
No excuse.
Just truth.
“Yes,” he said.
A knock came at the door.
Lauren stepped in with red eyes and a folder clutched to her chest.
“I found the family office emails.”
Ethan stood.
Emily pushed herself up slightly.
Lauren looked at Emily and broke.
“Oh my God, Emily. I’m so sorry.”
Emily said nothing.
Lauren placed the folder on the bedside table.
“Mom told the staff to forward anything from Emily’s doctors, hospital, or attorney to her private email before it reached Ethan.”
Ethan’s face turned pale with rage.
Lauren opened the folder.
“She also requested a no-contact letter using Emily’s name.”
Emily whispered, “I never wrote one.”
Lauren nodded.
“I know.”
Ethan picked up one page.
It was supposedly from Emily.
I request that Ethan Carter make no further attempts to contact me.
The signature looked like Emily’s.
Almost.
But Ethan knew her handwriting.
He had watched her sign birthday cards, mortgage papers, Christmas tags, silly notes on the fridge.
This was close enough to fool a stranger.
Not him.
“She forged it,” he said.
Lauren nodded.
“And there’s more.”
Emily’s monitor beeped a little faster.
Ethan turned immediately.
Emily was staring at the folder like it might open a grave.
Lauren swallowed.
“Mom scheduled a private meeting with your doctor after your diagnosis.”
Emily’s lips parted.
“She told me Ethan wanted me to terminate the pregnancy before treatment.”
The room went silent.
Ethan looked like he had stopped understanding language.
Emily’s tears spilled.
“She said you didn’t want a baby born from pity.”
Ethan grabbed the edge of the chair so hard his knuckles whitened.
“I never said that.”
Emily whispered, “I know that now.”
But the damage sat between them.
Months wide.
Cruel.
Almost impossible to cross.
Then Dr. Harris came in quickly.
“Emily, we need to start the first infusion.”
Emily nodded, terrified.
Ethan stepped back, giving her space.
But Emily reached out.
Not far.
Just enough.
“Stay,” she whispered.
Ethan took her hand.
May you like
“I’m not leaving.”
👉 Emily finally learned Ethan had not abandoned her, but surviving the night would be only the first step toward exposing Patricia in court.
