Chapter 5 : The confrontation

Bella sat in the darkened study until dawn, the medical report clutched in her hands like a lifeline. When she heard Nathel's key in the front door, her heart hammered against her ribs.

His footsteps were careful. Avoiding her.

She found him in the kitchen, pouring coffee with mechanical precision. He didn't look up when she entered.

“We need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.’ his voice was ice.

“Well, I have something to say to you.” She held up the report. ,”fifteen to twenty percent chance of conception. That's what your diagnosis actually said.”

Nathel's hand stilled on the cofee pot. Slowly, he turned.

“You went through my privates files..”

“Significantly reduced but not eliminated.” Her voice shook. “You lied to me, Nathel. You're not sterile.”

His face went whitez then red.

“ Those numbers don't mean anything.”

“They mean everything!” She stepped closer. “You called me a slut. You said I cheated. But this baby is yours.”

“No “ the word count came out flat. Final. “It's not mine.”

“The medical evidence say otherwise.”

“I don't care what some old reports says.” He turned away dismissing her. “I know my body.”

“You know what's convenient for you.”

He spun around, eyes blazing. . “Convenient? Do youl think any of this is convenient?”

“You lied.”

“No I don't.”

“You want to destroy our marriage.”

Nathel laugh bitterly, “our marriage was destroyed the moment you spread for him.”

The slap echoed through the kitchen.

Bella's hand stung. Nathel's cheek bloomed red.

“How dare you.”

“How dare I? His voice was deadly quiet. “You're carrying another man's bastard and asking me to claim it.”

“It's not.*

“Don't.” He held up a hand. “Don't insult my intelligence further.”

—------

‘Six years earlier. Dr. Chen's office.

his throat like a stone

‘There are treatments available. Medications, lifestyle changes’

What if we don't pursue treatment?,

‘Then you'd be relying on that small probability. It exists, but it's minimal.’

That night, Nathaniel stared at the ceiling. Twenty percent felt like a loaded gun. Twenty percent meant possibility. Possibility meant hope. Hope meant eventual disappointment.

It was easier to say impossible.

Cleaner to say never.

Safer for everyone.

—----

“You were protecting yourself,” Bella's voice cut through the memory. “Not me. Never me.”

“I was being realistic.”

“you were being a coward.”

Nathel's jaw tightened. “Call me whatever you want. It doesn't change the facts.”

“The facts are in that report!”

“The facts are that you're pregnant with someone else's child.”

“Why won't you even consider this to be your.”

“Because I know it's impossible!”

“Your own medical records prove otherwise!”

“I don't care what it say!” He slammed his fist in the counter. “We hardly had sincere sex, so I can't he the one.”

Bella stared at him. This man who would rather believe his wife was unfaithful than admit he might be wrong.

“You'd rather destroy us than take responsibility.”

“There's nothing to destroy. You already did that.”

The word hit like physical blows. Bella wrapped her arms around herself.

“I never cheated on you.”

“Right.” His voice dripped sarcasm. , “immaculate conception.”

“Nathel, please.”

“Don't.” He moved past her towards the door. ”I can't even look at you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

He was always going away from her. Always finding excuses to travel, to work late, to sleep in the guest room. Their marriage had been a series

Of carefully maintained distances.

Now he had the perfect excuse.

The doorbell rang.

Nathel paused in the doorway. “Expecting someone?”

“No.”

The bell rang again, insistent and sharp.

“I'll get it.” But his tone suggested he'd rather not.

Bella heard the front door open. A familiar voice drifted down the hallway.

“Nathaniel, darling. Where is she?”

Eleanor. Nathaniel's mother.

Bella's stomach dropped. Eleanor Blackwood was a predator in pearls, wealthy, connected and absolutely ruthless when protecting what belongs to her.

“Mother?”

“I heard about your wife little…. situation.”

Footsteps approached. Bella straightened, trying to gather what remained of her dignity.

Eleanor appeared like a avenging angel in Chanel. Silver hair swept into a perfect chignon, diamond glittering at her throat. Her pale eyes swept over Bella with obvious disgust.

“Isabella. How could you stoop so low to sleep around with other man all because to claim a place in the Blackwood.”

“I didn't….”

“Quiet!” Eleanor shouted to interrupt Bella.

Eleanor laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. “You brought a bastard to be an heir to the Blackwood.”

“Not a bastard.” She held her belly.

“Oh, but it is, dear.” Eleanor's smile was venomous. “ A married woman, pregnant with another man's child. Quite the scandal.”

“The baby belongs to Nathel's “

“Don’t.” Eleanor held up a manicured hand. “Don't add insult to injury. We both know that's impossible.”

Bella's heart hammered. “His medical records”

“”Are irrelevant.” Eleanor moved closer. “My son is incapable of fathering a children. Has been for years. So this little performance of yours is both pathetic and insulting.”

“I'm not performing anything.”

“Aren't you?” Eleanor's eyes glittered. “Playing the innocent victim while carrying your lover's bastard?”

The word hit like a slap. Bella flinched.

“I don't have a lover.,,⁴

“No?” Eleanor tilted her head. “How interesting. Because I saw you last night, dear. At Chez Laurent. Having quiet the itimate dinner with a very handsome gentleman.”

The air in the room changed. Thickened.

“what?” Nathel's voice was sharp.

“Oh yes.” Eleanor's smile widened. “Dr. Martinez Harrison, wasn't it? Such a distinguished man. The way you were leaning across the table, hanging on his every word.”

Bella's blood turned to ice. “That's wasn't…”

“Such chemistry between you two. Quite obvious, really.”

“It was completely innocent.”

“Was it?” Eleanor's voice dripped false sweetness. “A private dinner for what exactly, treatment, one on one therapy? How very therapeutic.”

Nathel's head turned slowly toward Bella. His eyes were arctic.

“You had dinner with another man?”

“It wasn't like that.”

“A private dinner?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “How faithful of you.”

“Nathaniel, he's my therapist and not just a doctor.”

“How convenient.” Eleanor practically purred. “A doctor. How very fitting for the father of your child.”

“He's not.”

“Isn't he?” Eleanor stepped back, watching the destruction unfold. “The timing is rather perfect, wouldn't say?”

The room fell silent except for the tick of the clock.

Nathaniel stared at Bella with the expression of a man watching his worst suspicions confirmed. His gaze was cold, calculating, utterly without warmth.

“

Well,” he said softly. “That certainly explains everything.”

Bella opened her mouth to protest, to explain, to beg him to listen.

But the look in his eyes told her it was already too late.

Eleanor had won.