Chapter 75 I am Pregnant.
Vivienne's POV
The night before the hearing, I couldn't sleep. Again.
I lay on Sarah's pull-out couch staring at the ceiling, going over everything in my mind. The prenup fraud. The wrongful termination. The witness testimony. Monica's careful preparation. Everything we had built our case on.
Tomorrow will be the first real test. The first time standing in front of a judge and presenting our side of the story. The first time facing Rapheal in a courtroom instead of a bedroom or a conference room.
I must have finally fallen asleep around four in the morning because I woke up to Sarah shaking my shoulder gently vehemently.
"Viv. You need to get up. Monica called. The hearing got moved to next week."
I sat up groggily, confused. "What? Why?"
"Some scheduling conflicts with the judge. Monica said she tried to fight it but there was nothing she could do. She'll call you later with details."
I felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief that I had another week to prepare. Disappointment that the waiting would continue even longer.
"Okay," I said, rubbing my eyes. "Okay."
But something felt off. Wrong. I had been feeling it for a few days now but had been too distracted by the divorce and the hearing to pay attention.
A sort of queasiness in the mornings. Exhaustion that went beyond just stress. A strange sensitivity to smells.
"You okay?" Sarah asked, studying my face. "You look pale.”
"I'm fine. Just tired."
"When's the last time you ate a full meal?"
I thought about it. Yesterday's pasta? Maybe? Before that it had been mostly coffee and whatever snacks I could grab between work at the gallery and meetings with Monica.
"I don't know," I admitted.
"That's not good, Viv. You need to take care of yourself. All this stress isn't healthy."
She was right. I had been running on adrenaline and anxiety for over a week now. Barely eating. Barely sleeping. Just pushing through each day on sheer determination.
"I'll eat something," I promised.
But as I stood up, a wave of dizziness hit me. The room tilted slightly and I had to grab the back of the couch to steady myself.
"Viv?" Sarah's voice was sharp with concern.
"I'm fine. Just stood up too fast."
"When's the last time you went to a doctor?"
I couldn't remember. Before the divorce, certainly. Marcus's health insurance had covered everything. But now that was gone. And I hadn't thought about finding a new doctor or getting my own insurance yet.
"It's been a while," I said.
"You're going today," Sarah said firmly.
"There's a clinic a few blocks from here. Walk-ins welcome. You're going to eat breakfast, then you're going to that clinic and getting checked out."
"Sarah, I'm fine. I don't need—"
"You almost just passed out in my living room. You're not fine. You're going."
She used her no-arguments voice. The same voice she had used when she made me leave Rapheal's building after clearing out my office. The voice that meant she wasn't going to take no for an answer.
"Fine," I said. "I'll go."
Two hours later, I was sitting in a small examination room at the clinic, wearing a paper gown and waiting for the doctor to come back with test results.
It was probably nothing. Just stress. Just not eating enough. Maybe low iron or dehydration or any number of simple explanations.
The door opened and a young doctor walked in, holding a tablet and wearing an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Ms. Moreau," she said, sitting down on the rolling stool. "I have your test results."
"Is everything okay?" I asked, my heart rate picking up.
She looked at me carefully. "When was your last menstrual period?"
The question caught me off guard. I tried to think back. With everything happening with the divorce, I hadn't been paying attention. When was it? Six weeks ago? Seven?
"I... I'm not sure. Maybe six or seven weeks? Why?"
The doctor's expression softened slightly. "Ms. Moreau, you're pregnant. About seven weeks based on your hormone levels."
The words didn't make sense at first. Didn't connect to anything real.
Pregnant.
No!
No, that wasn't possible.
"That's not possible," I said out loud.
"The test is very accurate," the doctor said gently. "Your hCG levels are consistent with a seven-week pregnancy. Is there any chance—"
And then I remembered.
Eight weeks ago. Before everything fell apart. Before Rapheal asked for a divorce.
It was Raphael.
Oh god. It was Raphael.
"Ms. Moreau?" The doctor's voice pulled me back to the present. "Are you alright?"
"I need... I need a minute."
"Of course. Take all the time you need."
She stood up. "I'll give you some privacy. When you're ready, we can discuss your options and next steps."
She left and I sat there in that paper gown in that sterile examination room, trying to process what I had just been told.
Pregnant.
Seven weeks pregnant.
With Raphael Moreau; baby.
In the middle of a divorce.
A divorce where Raphael was already trying to destroy my credibility and paint me as dishonest and opportunistic.
This would destroy everything.
If Marcus found out I was pregnant with his child, he would use it against me. Would he claim I had been unfaithful during our marriage? He would use it as evidence that I was the dishonest one, not him.
He would probably find some way to leverage it to reduce the settlement or avoid paying spousal support.
My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.
I needed to call someone. I needed to talk to someone. I needed help figuring out what to do.
I grabbed my phone from my bag with trembling fingers and stared at it.
Monica? No. She was my lawyer. This complicated the case in ways I didn't even fully understand yet.
Sarah? Yes. Sarah first. Then figure out the rest.
I called her and she answered immediately.
"How'd it go? What did the doctor say?"
"Sarah." My voice cracked. "Sarah, I need you to come get me."
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I'm... I'm pregnant."