CLEOPATRA: Her Shades Of Vendetta

CLEOPATRA OAKLAND The doctor at the fertility clinic looked at me strangely after running a few standard checks. Then he smiled. “Cleopatra,” he said, pushing an envelope toward me, “you don’t need a surrogate. You’re already pregnant.” I froze. My heart skipped. “What?” He chuckled. “You’re about five weeks in. Congratulations.” My lips parted, but no words came out. I just stared at the envelope in shock. My brain couldn’t even process what he was saying. Pregnant? Me? I took the printed result and walked out of the clinic like a zombie. I got into my car and sat there for a full ten minutes, staring at the paper. Then, suddenly, I laughed. Tears streamed down my face. I laughed and cried at the same time. I was pregnant. I was actually pregnant. Still not entirely sure if it was real, I drove to the nearest pharmacy and bought four pregnancy test kits. I needed more proof. I needed to see it for myself. I stepped out of my car, holding a hospital envelope close to my chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. I was finally pregnant. After three long years of crying, heartbreak, and doctor visits that led to nothing, I was going to be a mom. No surrogate. No outside help. Just me, Franklin, and our baby finally. I smiled to myself and hugged the envelope a little tighter. The doctor had told me it was still early, too early to see much on the scan, but my hormone levels were strong and going up. My body was finally doing what I thought it never would. I had almost chosen a surrogate. I even went to the hospital to finish the paperwork. I just wanted to run one last test before going through with it, and that’s when I got the miracle news I never saw coming. I desperately wanted a child, not just for Franklin, but for me. I was the only child of my late parents. My father died a few years after my mother passed suddenly. I grew up without siblings, without anyone to call my own. After my mother’s death, my father remarried a woman named Juliana. She came with a daughter, Benita, who was just a year older than me. Well, I was told she’s my father’s biological daughter. Juliana got pregnant with her before my dad married my mom. So we were never close. Not even friendly. It always felt like they were intruders in my home, even if I never said it out loud. And I know Benita felt the same. She even said it a few times, how I was sitting on what should’ve been her inheritance. Then when my father passed too, I was alone. A child. That was all I wanted. Someone who would fill the gap left by my parents. A companion. A family. I rushed into the house, watching my steps, while digging through my handbag. I pulled out the test strips and headed straight to my bedroom. I tossed my bag on the bed and hurried into the bathroom. My hands shook a little as I tore open the box, peed on the strip, and waited. One minute. Two. Two red lines appeared. I clutched the strip, staring at it with wide eyes. “God,” I whispered, my heart racing. “Thank you. Thank you.” I hurried out of the bathroom and grabbed my phone to call Franklin, but then I changed my mind. I will wait till he got back from work. I wanted to see the joy on his face. I slumped into the sofa, the clinic result in one hand, the test strip in the other. It still felt like a dream. Soon, I heard the familiar sound of his car pulling into the driveway. I hurried to the window. There he was. Franklin. Always perfectly dressed. Black button-down shirt tucked into his tailored gray trousers, brown leather belt and matching loafers. His tie was loosened, like he had just left a meeting. His wristwatch gleamed under the porch light. Clean-shaven, neat haircut. He looked every bit the handsome, composed man I married. The moment he stepped into the bedroom and saw me, he grinned and pulled me into a hug. He lifted me off the ground. “The doctor called an hour ago,” he said, planting kisses all over my face. “He told me about our little version.” My eyes widened. “Wait, you already know?” He laughed. “Of course. You think he wouldn’t call me? I was the next of kin on the form. And your husband.” I laughed with him. The room felt like it was glowing with joy. Then he dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small white pack. “He said you forgot these. Vitamins. Told me to pick them up for you,” he said, handing them over. “You’re supposed to take two now.” I looked at the pack, then nodded. “I’ll take them,” I said. “Thanks, babe.” “Good. Take them while I make us something to eat,” he said, already removing his shirt. I took a bottle of water and swallowed the two pills. Not long after, he called me to the kitchen. Dinner was ready. He made rice and peppered chicken. My favorite. I smiled and sat at the table.I could already picture it, three of us sitting at the table. Me, Franklin, and our child. It was going to be perfect. Soon. But the moment I took the first spoonful, a sharp pain stabbed through my abdomen. “Ah!” I gasped, dropping the spoon. The pain came again, deeper, stronger. Franklin rushed over. “What’s wrong?” “I—I don’t know,” I said, clutching my stomach. “It hurts.” Then I felt something warm gush out of me. Blood. I looked down. My gown was soaked. “Jesus!” Franklin shouted. He scooped me into his arms, ran out of the house, and placed me in the passenger seat of the car. Then he drove like a madman to the hospital. Everything after that was a blur. Nurses shouting. A gurney. Bright lights. An oxygen mask. Cold instruments. Then darkness. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My stomach felt hollow. My heart too. The nurse saw me stirring and quickly called for the doctor. “Your pregnancy didn’t survive,” the doctor said gently. “We’re so sorry.” I cried. I couldn’t stop. No amount of comfort from Franklin helped. I felt like the universe had just handed me everything I wanted, only to snatch it away before I could even hold it. The doctor advised I stay for a week to recover fully. I agreed. Franklin came by every day, brought me food, flowers, and tried to cheer me up. But I was just empty. On the fifth day, two days before I was supposed to be discharged, I had a visitor. Doctor Shaun. He was one of the doctors who had attended to me in the past. Also a close friend to Franklin, as far as I knew. He walked in slowly, holding a file. “Hey, Cleopatra,” he said softly. “Hey,” I replied, sitting up. “I heard what happened. I’m really sorry.” “Thanks,” I muttered. He sat in the chair beside my bed, silent for a while. Then he looked at me, his face serious. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. “But you should consider divorcing Franklin.” I blinked. “What?” He sighed. “I think it's the best decision, considering all that you've been through.” My throat tightened. “Is this a joke? I should divorce your friend?” He sighed helplessly. "Don't get me wrong please. I just think you need a break from him. Like, he isnt....never mind.” he waved his hand dismissively. “Why would you even say something like that? He’s your friend.” I said roughly. “I’m sorry, I mentioned this. Can we pretend we never had this conversation?" Just…be...Take care of yourself.” I didn’t know what to make of that. I thought he was mocking me. Maybe he pitied me because I hadn’t had a child for Franklin all these years. Before I could ask more questions, he stood up and walked away. I sat in bed, confused and unsettled. That night, I decided not to wait for the official discharge. I packed my things and left without telling Franklin. When I got home, the house was unusually quiet. I walked in slowly, dragging my small hospital bag behind me. I called out. “Franklin?” No answer. I climbed the stairs to our bedroom, heart unsettled, and body, tired. I pushed open the door, and the air seemed to stop moving. There, on the bed, were Franklin and Benita. My step sister. Tangled. Naked. I swear, my brain just shut off for a split second. Their eyes flickered to the door. They saw me. And froze. But only for a second. Franklin scrambled out of bed, barely covering himself, panic all over his face. He looked like he wanted to explain, to run to me, to hold me maybe. But Benita beat him to it. She didn’t cover herself. She didn’t hide. She sat there, proud, as if I was the one intruding. "Well, finally," she said, stretching lazily like a cat. "Guess the surprise’s out." I opened my mouth, but nothing came. My legs felt like jelly. My head spun. I gripped the doorframe to keep myself upright. Franklin took a step toward me, hands raised. "Cleo, I... it’s not—" "Oh, shut it," Benita snapped at him, then turned her cold eyes on me. "You were never going to give him a child, Cleo. And that’s why he’s with me now. Because I can." My throat tightened. I blinked fast. "You’re... pregnant?" She smiled. Wide. Wicked. "Three months. And proud." I turned to Franklin, hoping, he’d say something. Deny it. Argue. Fight for me. For us. But, he said nothing. Benita stood up, grabbed her robe, tied it around her waist like a queen donning her crown. "Poor Cleo. Three years of a dead marriage. He told me everything. How you couldn’t get pregnant. How you were desperate. How you dragged him to those clinics." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You’re lying. He wouldn’t—" She laughed. "Wouldn’t what? Wouldn’t swallow those pills?" I blinked. "What pills?" She turned to Franklin. "You tell her. Or should I?" He rubbed his face, ashamed. Still, he said nothing. Benita didn’t wait. "It’s called Dimethisterone. Look it up. Birth control for men. He took it every time he slept with you. Didn’t want your kids." Franklin winced but still didn’t speak. I laughed. Bitterly. Shakily. "Get out. Get out of my house, both of you." Benita slid off the bed and stood tall. "House? You mean our house?" I clenched my fists. "It’s mine! Bought with my money!" She smirked. Walked over to the drawer. Opened it casually like she owned the place. Pulled out a brown envelope. "I didn’t want to do this now," she said with fake sympathy. "But since you’re here, enjoy." She threw it at me. It hit my chest and fell to the floor. I slowly picked it up, tore it open. What spilled out made my world crack open. Wedding pictures. Benita and Franklin. Dressed in white and black. Holding hands. Smiling like a sick joke. And a marriage certificate. Dated, three days ago. Legit. They got married while I was in the hospital? He sent flowers to me, while exchanging marriage vows with another woman? I looked up at Franklin. "This isn't true. Right?" My body trembled, my heart beat so fast. "Cleo...." He stuttered. My hands trembled. "You married her...? While married to me?" I whispered. Franklin looked up briefly, his lips parted. "You have guts, Franklin. I can sue you for bigamy." "Oh, shut up!" Benita shrieked. Another envelope came flying, slapping against my arm. "Here. You’re not even his wife anymore." Inside, divorce documents. Dated a month ago. My signature was at the bottom. I blinked. Hard. "I didn’t sign this." "Does it matter?" Benita replied, arms folded, chin up. "Your signature’s on it. Just like it’s on the property transfer agreement." Before I could ask what she meant, she tossed a final envelope at me. My heart beat furiously as I unfolded it. It was the deed to my two houses. Signed over to Benita. The way my signature curled felt like it was mocking me. I staggered slightly. When had they done this? How? I looked at Franklin. My husband. My betrayer. He looked away. "I’m sorry, Cleo," he said, finally. "I have to do this. Benita’s the one I love." I snapped. "You what? You... love her? My stepsister? The daughter of the woman who ruined my home?" I felt like the air was slipping away. “If you love her, then why did you lie to me all this time?” My voice cracked. Benita’s eyes flashed. “Because we had to wait for our chance to get what’s mine.” It all felt unreal. My lips shook as I struggled to speak. “Franklin,” I whispered. He looked down. "She’s carrying my child. She deserves this home. We deserve this life. She's your sister. She deserves the property too." I stared at him like he’d grown horns. "Are you kidding me? You took my property. My money. My life. And you say she deserves something?" "And who the hell told you she’s my sister?" I snapped. "She’s not! Her mother, Juliana, was my father’s mistress. Benita was her secret. My father married Juliana after my mom died. That doesn’t make her my blood." "Still family enough," Franklin muttered. "Shut up!" I screamed. "You both used me. Lied to me. Played me." Benita smirked. "You’ve got a lot of nerve acting all high and mighty. You’ve got nothing now. The houses. The man. The future. It’s all mine." Benita tossed her hair. "Correction: Your mother is the home breaker. "I'm older than you, which means my mom was here first. You're the one who came in later. You aren't my father's daughter!" The words were like gasoline on fire. My chest rose and fell heavily. I couldn’t breathe. I stormed up to her and slapped her hard across the face. Franklin rushed forward, trying to grab Benita, and in the process shoved me. I stumbled backward and hit the floor with a painful thud. "Cleo!" he shouted, but I slapped his hand away as he tried to help me up. I rose on my own, shaking, panting. "You’ve betrayed me in the worst possible way," I said, eyes burning. "I gave you my love, my trust, my whole life, and this is what you do? You ruined everything!" Benita rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself. I’m pregnant. That alone makes me more of a wife than you ever were." I laughed, bitterly. "You’ll never be anything but a parasite. You will regret this." I turned to leave, my body weak but pride holding me up. My eyes grew heavy, but I held back the tears, determined not to give Benita the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart. Benita’s voice rang loud and smug. "My mother let your useless, gold digger, dead mother take what belongs to her. I will not make the same mistake," My legs went stiff. I couldn’t move. I turned slowly, staring at her. My chest felt so heavy, like my heart might give out. “And you really think you can sue for forgery?” she sneered. “Sorry to break it to you, slut, you actually signed those papers yourself!” I turned my eyes away from her and looked at Franklin, the man I’d been married to for three years. Then I looked down at the papers scattered all over the floor, and slowly bent to pick them up. I didn’t say a word. I just turned around and walked out of the house, my tears finally falling down my face. I could feel it deep inside, my whole world was falling apart, and I couldn’t stop it. Saying I’m shattered doesn’t even come close to how I feel. But something tells me there’s more to this. More going on that I haven’t figured out yet.