Divorced By The Oil Tycoon

Chapter 3 Zurich Awakensz

GENEVIEVE

Winter arrived quietly in Zurich, the kind of cold that wasn’t loud or aggressive. It was patient, insistent. It slipped into the corners of her apartment, seeping between the frames of the windows, curling around the edges of her coat when she stepped outside. Unlike Aurelia, which roared with wealth, ambition, and unrelenting heat, Zurich was deliberate. Clean. Efficient. It demanded precision but never demanded submission.

Genevieve had learned to crave that stillness.

She stood by the window of her modest apartment, watching the river below shimmer under soft streetlights. Her breath fogged the glass as she traced patterns with her fingertip. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel the weight of someone else’s expectations pressing against her chest. No Laurent penthouse, no Laurent rules, no Laurent stares. Just her and the tiny life she carried within her.

Her body had begun to betray her in subtle ways. Fatigue clung like an invisible shroud, nausea came and went without warning, and her clothes no longer sat like they once did. She noticed the softening of her waist, the way her hips seemed fuller, more present. A quiet reminder that her body was no longer solely her own.

But instead of fear, she felt an unfamiliar surge of resolve.

She walked to the small kitchen and brewed herself ginger tea. Steam rose in twisting ribbons as she held the cup in both hands, inhaling its sharp, soothing aroma. She sat at the table, staring down at her hands. One rested over her abdomen, almost instinctively.

“You’re safe,” she whispered softly. “I promise.” The words felt fragile, yet unshakable. The twins inside her kicked lightly, a reminder that the promise was not hers alone to keep it was theirs.

The following week, she made her way to the clinic in central Zurich, tucked between the older stone buildings that had seen centuries pass. Unlike hospitals in Aurelia, which felt like fortresses built for prestige and intimidation, this clinic was warm, softly lit, filled with murmurs of conversation and the faint scent of disinfectant and lavender. Genevieve checked in quietly, answering questions she had already rehearsed in her mind a dozen times. She was calm, precise, measured, but beneath the surface, her heart raced with anticipation.

When the ultrasound technician invited her to lie down, Genevieve felt her hands grow clammy. She had been preparing for weeks to see this, yet when the cold gel touched her stomach, a shiver ran down her spine. The monitor flickered to life, and a small shape appeared on the screen. And then a heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Fierce. Alive. Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat. A laugh, breathless and disbelief-filled, escaped her lips. She pressed one hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

“Oh…” she whispered.

The technician smiled gently. “That’s the heartbeat,” she said. “Everything looks healthy so far. But the doctor will review the scan in detail.” Genevieve nodded, but she couldn’t move her eyes from the screen. The tiny flicker of life, so impossibly small, anchored her in a way nothing else had. A pause hung in the air. The technician adjusted the monitor again, her expression thoughtful but unreadable. Genevieve noticed. “Is something wrong?” she asked softly, heart tightening. “No,” the woman said carefully. “Nothing dangerous. Just… uncommon. Your doctor will explain after the review.”

Uncommon. The word echoed in Genevieve’s mind as she dressed and left the room. It was a subtle pang of unease, but she didn’t let it linger. Instead, she focused on the steady rhythm she had just heard, the undeniable pulse of life she now carried. Zurich’s streets were quieter that evening, the winter sun long set and replaced by the muted glow of streetlamps. She walked slowly toward her apartment, her scarf wrapped high against the cold, boots crunching lightly in the thin frost that had settled overnight. Even as the city hummed quietly around her, she felt the flutter inside her, subtle and persistent. Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach, pressing gently.

“You’re real,” she whispered. “You’re really here.” The thought of twins, of life multiplying within her, was almost dizzying. She laughed softly, the sound mingling with the rustle of wind through the narrow streets. Impossible. Ridiculous. And wonderful.

Her phone buzzed once in her coat pocket. She glanced down. No name, no number, just a notification for a reminder she had set for her evening meditation. A small thing, yet it grounded her. She paused, letting herself breathe, letting herself feel. That night, Genevieve lay in bed, curled beneath the weight of a soft comforter, the city lights from the street below painting patterns across her

walls. She closed her eyes, trying to quiet her mind, but her dreams had other plans.

She dreamed of sunlight filtering through tall, narrow windows. Of laughter echoing faintly, delicate and soft. And of two small shadows running ahead of her, tiny hands reaching out, pulling her forward. She woke suddenly, her heart racing, palms clammy, hand immediately moving to cover her stomach. Twins, she thought, a shock of wonder and disbelief flooding her. Her fingers grazed her belly gently, as if touching might confirm the reality of what she was carrying. “You’re already making yourselves known,” she whispered, voice trembling.

The twins shifted again, lightly, almost in agreement.

Genevieve laughed softly, a breathless, incredulous sound.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she murmured.

And yet, the feeling of two lives inside her refused to fade.

Over the next few days, she adjusted slowly to this new reality. Her movements became deliberate. She measured meals with care. She rested when fatigue overtook her. And always, she spoke to the life inside her. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she said one morning as sunlight spilled across the hardwood floors of her Zurich apartment. “We’re going to be okay.” Even as doubt whispered at the edges of her mind, even as fear tried to creep in, she refused to let it take root. For the first time in years, Genevieve felt a clarity she hadn’t known she was capable of. She wasn’t just surviving anymore. She was planning. Protecting. Choosing.

And for the first time in a long time, she knew she was ready for whatever this new life demanded of her.