Chapter 13: What He Lost
Two months after the split, I was at a Laurent Medical charity gala — eight months pregnant, radiant in emerald green — when I saw Dominic.
He was thinner. Gaunt, even. Standing at the edge of the room like he wasn't sure he was allowed to be there.
Our eyes met across the crowd.
He didn't approach. Just stood there, watching me with an expression that looked like grief.
I turned back to my conversation. But my heart was beating too fast.
Later, during the silent auction, a note arrived on my table. His handwriting — I recognized it from the contract he'd signed eight months ago.
*I know I have no right to ask. But can I see the ultrasound? Just once.*
I stared at the note for a long time. Then I folded it and put it in my clutch.
After the gala, Callum drove me home. At a red light, I pulled out the note again.
"Don't," Callum said quietly, watching me in the mirror.
"I'm not going to." I put it away. "But he should see his child. Not for him. For the baby."
Callum was silent for a moment. "You're a better person than he deserves."
"I know."
The next day, I had my assistant send Dominic a single ultrasound photo. No message. No return address.
I heard from my lawyer that when he received it, he didn't leave his apartment for two days.
At thirty-six weeks, my water broke during a thunderstorm.
Callum drove like a madman to the hospital. The doctors were ready — I'd had my team on standby for weeks.
The pain was monstrous. But between contractions, I laughed. Because I was free. I was powerful. And I was about to meet my child.
At 3:47 AM, my daughter came into the world screaming.
She was perfect. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Her father's gray eyes and my dark hair.
I held her against my chest and cried for the first time in months. Not from pain. Not from anger. From something so pure it burned.
"Welcome home," I whispered. "You are loved. You are wanted. And you will never, ever be anyone's bargaining chip."
Callum stood in the doorway, his eyes suspiciously bright.
"She's beautiful," he said roughly.
"She's mine." I smiled. "She's finally mine."
Outside the hospital, the storm cleared. And across the city, Dominic Ashford sat alone in his empty penthouse, staring at a single ultrasound photo taped to his refrigerator — the only proof that something good had ever come from him.
He didn't know she'd been born yet. He wouldn't know for three more days.
And when he finally found out, it wouldn't be from me.
---
He was thinner. Gaunt, even. Standing at the edge of the room like he wasn't sure he was allowed to be there.
Our eyes met across the crowd.
He didn't approach. Just stood there, watching me with an expression that looked like grief.
I turned back to my conversation. But my heart was beating too fast.
Later, during the silent auction, a note arrived on my table. His handwriting — I recognized it from the contract he'd signed eight months ago.
*I know I have no right to ask. But can I see the ultrasound? Just once.*
I stared at the note for a long time. Then I folded it and put it in my clutch.
After the gala, Callum drove me home. At a red light, I pulled out the note again.
"Don't," Callum said quietly, watching me in the mirror.
"I'm not going to." I put it away. "But he should see his child. Not for him. For the baby."
Callum was silent for a moment. "You're a better person than he deserves."
"I know."
The next day, I had my assistant send Dominic a single ultrasound photo. No message. No return address.
I heard from my lawyer that when he received it, he didn't leave his apartment for two days.
At thirty-six weeks, my water broke during a thunderstorm.
Callum drove like a madman to the hospital. The doctors were ready — I'd had my team on standby for weeks.
The pain was monstrous. But between contractions, I laughed. Because I was free. I was powerful. And I was about to meet my child.
At 3:47 AM, my daughter came into the world screaming.
She was perfect. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Her father's gray eyes and my dark hair.
I held her against my chest and cried for the first time in months. Not from pain. Not from anger. From something so pure it burned.
"Welcome home," I whispered. "You are loved. You are wanted. And you will never, ever be anyone's bargaining chip."
Callum stood in the doorway, his eyes suspiciously bright.
"She's beautiful," he said roughly.
"She's mine." I smiled. "She's finally mine."
Outside the hospital, the storm cleared. And across the city, Dominic Ashford sat alone in his empty penthouse, staring at a single ultrasound photo taped to his refrigerator — the only proof that something good had ever come from him.
He didn't know she'd been born yet. He wouldn't know for three more days.
And when he finally found out, it wouldn't be from me.
---