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The Arrogant Captain's Regret: Chasing My Ex-Wife

Chapter 7 

Word Count: 764    |    Released on: Today at 14:05

Norma

private OB-GYN clinic. Around me, expectant mothers leaned against the

an," the nur

nto the chief physician's private office, handin

chart carefully, her expression tur

ing and chorionic villus sampling we need to schedule are classified as invasive procedures," the doctor explained professionally. "Under Massachu

urled tightl

ty waiver, or can I sign full resp

ok her head sy

tal compliance strictly forbids single-party consent for high-risk pre

the cold bench in the hallway, clutching the blank

his morning, the judicial cooling-off period would take m

e disgust in my chest, pulled out my regular phone, and dial

the receiver for a full thirty

wasn't Bryant's low baritone. I

d. "Bryant just finished picking out custom jewelry for me and is in the shower right now. What

faint cramp from the surge of an

iately. I have a legal documen

t out a mo

o get his attention, Emilia," she sneered. "Bryant told me he fee

t dead with

at the darkening phone screen. The last tra

to the medical waste bin. I would contact my senior partner Gregg and use Synapse B

Norto

oom while drying my damp hair with a towel. Candice had just set

casually, fastening my

her arms around my waist, lookin

r from downtown," she said softly. "I hun

he sofa swinging his legs, his mouth stuffed with high-sugar gummy bear

aiden jumped off the

whined. "She even hung up on me yesterday! Let's go back to

w obediently Candice took care of him, my irritatio

icking up my car ke

wo days ago, I was certain we would find Emilia waiting in the penthouse k

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The Arrogant Captain's Regret: Chasing My Ex-Wife
The Arrogant Captain's Regret: Chasing My Ex-Wife
“For seven years, I lived in the shadows as the secret wife of NHL superstar Bryant Norton, sacrificing my brilliant medical career to be a low-paid nutritionist for his team. On our seventh anniversary, I flew in to surprise him with my pregnancy ultrasound, only to find him intimately celebrating with Candice. My six-year-old son threw himself into Candice's arms, wiping cake on her couture dress. "Candice is ten thousand times better than Mom! Make her my real mom!" Instead of scolding him, Bryant smiled indulgently, letting my son call another woman mother. When I went to his office to hand in my resignation, Bryant hurled a heavy metal clipboard in a blind rage, violently striking my pregnant belly. As I collapsed in agonizing pain, he rushed past me to comfort Candice, who had merely stepped on a piece of plastic and faked a twisted ankle. "Stop pretending to be hurt to get my sympathy! Security, throw her out!" He cut off my credit cards, assuming a penniless housewife would crawl back begging in three days. He didn't know that the "genius patents" Candice used to climb into his bed were just discarded drafts I threw in the trash during college. Seven years of silent devotion had been reduced to a pathetic joke. I tore up the ultrasound, signed the divorce papers, and permanently waived all custody rights to my ungrateful son. Then, I logged into the encrypted channel of the world's top bio-lab. It was time for the real genius to take her life back.”