Pregnant and Divorced: The Billionaire Begs For Forgiveness

My name is Elena Carter, and the night my marriage ended, I was five weeks pregnant and I did not even know it yet. It was raining in New York that night, that kind of heavy angry rain that hits the windows of Knight Tower like it wants to break in. I was standing in our living room, barefoot, wearing Adrian oversized shirt because my own clothes did not feel comfortable anymore. For three days my body had been strange, tired, nauseous, my breasts sore. I thought it was stress. Adrian and I had been trying for a baby for eight months and every month the test was negative. I had stopped hoping. I had stopped checking the calendar. I had stopped dreaming about names. Adrian came home late. He did not call. He used to call. He used to text on my way my love with a heart emoji. That night, his driver just dropped him and left, and when the elevator opened, I knew something was wrong before he even looked at me. The air changed. The whole penthouse felt cold even though the heater was on. He did not take off his coat. He did not kiss me. He just stood there holding his phone, his jaw tight, his grey eyes, the eyes I fell in love with in my final year at University of Uyo when he came for a tech conference, cold and distant. I remember that first day he saw me. I was wearing a simple yellow dress that my mother sewed for me. I was selling chin chin to support my school fees at the school gate. He bought everything. He said your smile is worth more than all the chin chin. That was the Adrian I married. Not this man in front of me. He said Elena, we need to talk. His voice was flat. Not angry. Worse. Disappointed. Like I was a stranger. Like I was a business deal that failed. My stomach dropped. In five years of marriage, I had heard that voice only once, when his father died. I felt my heart start to beat fast. My hands started to sweat. I tried to smile. I said you are wet. Come, let me get you a towel. Did you eat? My mother taught me how to make pepper soup, I made it this evening. I added scent leaf just like you like. I was trying to be normal. I was trying to be his wife. He cut me off. He said did you sleep with him? I froze, the smile still stuck on my face. I said what? I thought I heard wrong. I thought maybe the rain made me hear wrong. He turned his phone to me. On the screen was a photo. Me, at a restaurant, laughing with Daniel Cole, my ex boyfriend from university who now worked at Knight Enterprises as an intern. The photo was taken from far, but you could see Daniel hand on my shoulder. Another photo, me getting into Daniel car. The timestamp was from two days ago. The photos looked so wrong. So guilty. But they were not guilty. They were nothing. He said Margaret sent this to me. Margaret was his mother. She never liked me. A girl from Uyo, not from Manhattan. A girl whose mother sells fabric in Itam market. A girl who did not go to Harvard. She always told Adrian I was after his money. She never came to our traditional marriage. She said our Uyo tradition was too loud. I said Adrian, that is not what you think. My voice was shaking. I said Daniel came to ask for help. He said he was going to be fired, he begged me to talk to you. I told him I can not interfere in your company. That is it. I did not even want to meet him. He waited outside the building. I only gave him five minutes. I swear. He said you got into his car, Elena. I said because it was raining. He offered to drop me at the train station. Adrian, you know me. You know I would never. You know I have not looked at any man since I married you. You know I pray for you every morning. How can you think this of me? He said do I? Do I know you? My mother has been telling me for months that you have been distant, that you have been secretive. That you are always on your phone. And now this. Tell me the truth. Is that why you do not want to have a baby with me anymore? Because you want his baby? The words hit me harder than a slap. I felt my knees go weak. I had to hold the sofa to stand. My vision went blurry. I was five weeks pregnant with his child inside me and he was asking if I wanted another man baby. The baby that was already growing. The baby that was part of him. The baby that I did not even know was there yet but God knew. I whispered I have been bleeding, Adrian. I have been crying every month when the test is negative. I have been praying to have your child. I have been going to church to pray. I have been drinking that bitter herb my mother sent from Uyo that you said smells bad. How can you say that to me? How can you? He shouted then whose car were you in? The rain hit the windows louder. His voice filled the whole house. I said it was just a ride. I swear on my mother life, on everything I love, I never touched him. Ask Daniel. Ask the driver. Ask anyone. I will call Daniel now. I will put him on loudspeaker. You will hear. He looked at me for a long time. I waited for him to believe me. That is what marriage is, right? When the whole world shows you a photo, your husband should say I know my wife. My wife would never. I know her heart. He did not. He took off his wedding ring. Slowly. And placed it on the glass table between us. The sound it made was small, but it echoed in the whole penthouse. It echoed in my soul. That ring was custom made. It had our wedding date inside. It had my name and his name. He placed it down like it was nothing. He said I need you to leave. Tonight. I can not look at you right now. I need to think. He said it like he was talking to an employee. Like he was firing me. I thought he meant leave the room. I thought he meant go to the guest room. I thought he would calm down and come and say sorry. He meant leave the house. Leave New York. Leave his life. I did not beg. Maybe I should have. But my mother raised me not to beg a man who has already decided. My mother said when a man closes his heart, your tears will not open it. Only time will. I went to our bedroom, packed one suitcase, not the expensive ones he bought me, just my small Ghana must go bag from when I moved from Uyo, and I took my passport, my mother small Bible, and the pregnancy test I had bought that morning but had not taken yet because I was waiting for him to be home to take it with me. I wanted us to hold the stick together. I wanted to see his face light up. When I walked past him to the door, he did not move. He did not stop me. He stood with his back to me, looking out at the rain. He said Elena, when my hand was on the door handle. My heart jumped. I thought he would say sorry. I thought he would say do not go. He said do not contact my mother. Or anyone at Knight Enterprises. Let us keep this private until the lawyers sort it. I left. The rain soaked me before I even got to the lobby. The security guard who used to call me Madam Elena did not know where to look. He looked down. I had four hundred dollars in my account, a suitcase, and a child growing inside me that its father did not want. That night, I slept at the Port Authority bus station because I could not afford a hotel, with my hand on my stomach, whispering it is okay, it is just you and me now. It is just you and me. I whispered to the baby I did not know was there, I whispered to God, I whispered to my mother in Uyo who was sleeping and did not know her daughter was on a cold floor in New York. I did not know it was twins then. If I had known it was two, maybe I would have been more scared. Or maybe I would have been less lonely. Maybe I would have felt stronger knowing I had two hearts beating inside me, not one. That was the night everything ended. And also the night everything began.