My Husband Faked My Infertility for 20 Years

At Nathaniel Vanguard's funeral, a seventeen-year-old stranger fell to her knees in front of me and called me "Mom." I thought she was just delirious with grief. That was, until the estate lawyer read the will out loud. "Sixty percent of Mr. Vanguard's shares will be left entirely to his daughter, Stella Vanguard." The entire chapel fell dead silent, and every pair of eyes darted toward me. After all, everyone in our circle knew Nathaniel and I never had children. My fingers dug into my black clutch until they went numb. A second later, a familiar woman emerged from the crowd, her eyes rimmed red with tears. "Victoria," Serena Chase said softly. "Nathaniel told me you were too fragile to endure the pain of childbirth. So all these years, I had a child for you. I raised her for you." She paused, her gaze shifting to Nathaniel's portrait. "He said you had a heart of gold. He knew that once he was gone, you would treat Stella like your own flesh and blood." I stood frozen, suddenly transported back twenty years. Nathaniel had held my medical report, swearing that my infertility didn't matter. He only needed me. Every year, he took me to the orphanage, whispering that adopting a child would be a blessing. It wasn't true love. He had simply factored my entire life into his twisted game. "He's dead, Victoria. Just let it go," someone whispered in the crowd. I slowly looked up at the lawyer. "Are you finished reading his will?" He nodded stiffly. I pulled a crisp folder from my clutch. "Great. Then it's time to read mine." ***** Jeremy Davis, the lawyer, stared at the document in my hand, his eyes widening behind his glasses. The chapel at Vanguard Manor was suffocatingly quiet, save for the faint hum of the priest's prayers. Stella was still kneeling at my feet, a sliver of her pale wrist peeking out from her black dress. When she looked up at me, her eyes were filled with panic and a perfectly rehearsed timidity. Serena spoke up first, her voice barely a whisper, yet it was loud enough for the front row to hear. "Victoria, today is Nathaniel's funeral. Can't whatever you have to say wait until we lay him to rest?" I stared right at her. She hadn't changed much over the last two decades, though her features had softened slightly. I recognized those pearl earrings she was wearing. Last year, Nathaniel brought them back from an auction in Chuole, claiming he bought them for me. When I complained the style was too small, he chuckled and locked them in his wall safe. I guess they never stayed in the safe. I handed the folder to Jeremy, my voice utterly devoid of emotion. "Mr. Vanguard's will has been read. Reading my asset delegation and share-freezing injunction right now shouldn't be a conflict of interest, right?" Nathaniel's cousin, Marcus Vanguard, scowled. "Victoria Monroe, stop making a scene at a funeral. Nathaniel isn't even in the ground yet, and you're already fighting for his shares? Do you have any idea how bad this makes us look?" I glanced at the altar. They had chosen a great photo of Nathaniel. The black suit and slight smile were classic him, the exact look he gave me whenever he coaxed me into signing documents. "Marcus, when the South Bay Development tanked three years ago, I mortgaged Monroe Manor to the bank," I replied coldly. "I bailed out Vanguard Enterprises to the tune of 1.7 billion dollars. You didn't think I was 'making a scene' then, did you?" His face instantly drained of color, and hushed whispers broke out among the guests. Serena quickly grabbed Stella's hand, acting as if I were about to strike the girl. "Victoria, Stella is just a child. She doesn't know anything!" Serena screamed. "Nathaniel left her those shares because he was terrified she'd be left with nothing. Can you really not even tolerate a child?" Stella bit her lip and called out to me in a trembling voice. "Mom, I'm not here to steal anything from you." A chill ran down my spine. The way she said that word was way too natural. It wasn't a slip of the tongue; it had been practiced countless times. Jeremy cleared his throat and leaned in. "Ms. Monroe, I need to verify the original copies and the notarization codes for this. I'm afraid it's not appropriate to read this publicly today." I nodded. "Then verify them." The smug satisfaction in Serena's eyes faltered. I pulled a key from my bag and dropped it into Jeremy's palm. "In the wall safe of Nathaniel's study, you'll find the confirmation letter for the original shares of Vanguard Enterprises I held before our marriage, along with the prenuptial asset-separation agreement signed by Nathaniel himself," I said. Marcus shot up from his seat. "The study is our property! Who gave you the right to let outsiders snoop around in there?" I met his glare dead on. "The deed to that room is in my name." A heavy silence fell over the chapel. When Nathaniel was alive, he always bragged that I didn't care about money. In his eyes, I was only suited for gardening and attending art galas. But he conveniently forgot that the very first round of seed funding for Vanguard Enterprises came directly from my father. He also forgot that on her deathbed, my mother left all of Monroe Group to me. Before Jeremy could speak, Stella shuffled forward on her knees and desperately grabbed the hem of my skirt. "Mom, Dad said you had the softest heart. He promised you wouldn't be able to stay mad if you saw me." She looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I really don't have a home anymore." I looked down, my eyes catching a glimpse of a hospital wristband slipping out of her sleeve. A string of text was printed across it: M-317, Southampton Private Clinic. I froze. That was the exact clinic Nathaniel took me to for my annual checkups. It was the same clinic that issued my infertility diagnosis all those years ago.