Chapter 76 Engaged?
Vivienne's POV
Silence on the other end.
Then she said, "I'm on my way. Don't move. Stay right there."
Twenty minutes later, Sarah burst into the clinic waiting room where I was sitting fully dressed, staring at the pamphlets the doctor had given me about prenatal care and pregnancy options.
She sat down next to me without saying anything. Just sat there, a solid presence beside me.
"It's Rapheal's," I said quietly.
"I figured," she said.
"We were intimate three nights before he requested a divorce.”
"Okay," Sarah said carefully. "Okay. Does Raphael know?"
"No. I haven't talked to him yet.”
"Are you going to tell him?"
Was I? I didn't know. I didn't know anything right now except that my entire life had just gotten really complicated.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know what I'm going to do about any of this."
Sarah put her arm around my shoulders. "You don't have to decide everything right now. Let's just get you home first."
We took a cab back to her apartment. I sat in silence the whole way, watching the city pass by, thinking about the tiny cluster of cells growing inside me that would eventually become a whole person.
A person I hadn't planned for. Hadn't prepared for. Didn't know if I even wanted.
A person whose existence could destroy my divorce case and any chance I had at getting what I was owed from Raphael.
When we got back to the apartment, I went straight to the bathroom and threw up. Morning sickness, probably. Or stress. Or both.
When I came out, Sarah had made tea and was sitting on the couch waiting.
"You need to tell Monica," she said gently. "I know you don't want to. I know it complicates things. But she's your lawyer. She needs to know."
"It ruins everything," I said, sitting down heavily. "Rapheal will use this against me. He'll say I was cheating during the marriage. He won't believe the pregnancy is his. He will say that I'm dishonest. That I don't deserve anything."
"But you didn't cheat," Sarah pointed out.
"Try telling that to a judge."
Sarah was quiet for a moment. "Monica is good at her job. She'll figure out how to handle this."
I knew she was right. But the thought of telling Monica made me feel sick all over again.
I pulled out my phone and opened my email, thinking I should at least check if Raphael had sent any recent messages. Maybe he had reached out. Maybe we had some correspondence that would matter now.
The most recent email from him was from three weeks ago. Something brief about a shipping route discussion. Nothing personal.
But there was a Google alert in my inbox this morning. I had set up alerts for various business contacts, including Raphael, when I was still working at Moreau Industries. An old habit I hadn't bothered to cancel.
"Raphael Moreau announces engagement to Sherlyn Voss in surprise move."
My stomach dropped.