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The Divorced Architect's Spectacular Comeback Novel Cover

The Divorced Architect's Spectacular Comeback

My husband of three years dragged me into the freezing autumn ocean because my stepsister claimed I bullied her. When she faked a sprained ankle in the shallow water, he immediately abandoned me in the roaring waves to save her, not knowing I was eight weeks pregnant. The icy undertow swept me away, causing a brutal miscarriage. Later in the hospital, my traumatized body started hemorrhaging, and I desperately needed a rare blood transfusion. My stepsister, who shared my blood type, held my life hostage. She forced my husband to sign our divorce papers before she would donate a single drop. By the time the blood reached me, my uterus was irreparably damaged. I permanently lost the right to ever be a mother. "The Anderson family can't have an infertile matriarch." My own parents said this as they falsified my medical records to protect her. And my husband, blinded by his misplaced loyalty, simply walked away, leaving me with a meager settlement. I lost my baby, my fertility, and my marriage all in one week. How could the people I trusted most be so completely heartless? But looking at the divorce papers, I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed my name and unsealed my Yale architecture degree. "I'm in. Send me the files for the Manhattan project." The weak, pathetic Mrs. Anderson died on that operating table. Crista Cherry is back, and it's time for them to pay.
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Chapter 6

Conrad stared at the expanding pool of blood on the white sheets. His brain felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer. For one second, there was nothing but white noise.

In the wheelchair, Else saw the blood. Instead of fear, a flash of malicious triumph flickered in her eyes.

Conrad snapped out of his daze. He shoved Gardner aside, sending the older man stumbling, and rushed to the bed.

He reached out with a trembling hand, pressing his fingers to Crista's neck. The pulse was there, but it was thready. A strangled sound tore from his throat. "Doctor!" he roared.

Footsteps echoed in the hall. Audrey burst through the door, dragging her cousin in surgical scrubs behind her. It was Dr. Caleb Arnold, the trauma surgeon she had mentioned earlier. Caleb took one look at the blood-soaked bed and his face hardened. His protective instinct flared instantly. He shoved Conrad hard in the chest. "Get the hell away from her!" he barked.

Conrad stumbled back, his shock turning to anger. He raised a fist, but Caleb was already at the bedside, his hands moving with practiced speed to apply pressure to the bleeding.

Audrey threw herself at Cristin, slapping the woman hard across the face. "Murderers!" she screamed. "You killed her!"

Nurses rushed in with a crash cart. The room erupted into chaos. Alarms blared from the monitors.

"OR now!" Caleb yelled. "Get the gurney!"

They lifted Crista onto the stretcher. Conrad instinctively moved to help, but Audrey blocked his path.

Her eyes were red, her face contorted with hatred. She pointed a finger at his chest. "If she dies," she hissed, "I will make you pay with your life! You already took her baby!"

Conrad went pale. "Baby?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "What baby?"

The gurney started moving toward the door. In the jostling, Crista's eyes fluttered open. Her hazy gaze found Conrad, standing frozen in the middle of the room.

With a monumental effort, she ripped the oxygen mask from her face. Her voice was weak, but the words hit Conrad like a physical blow.

"The baby you killed in the ocean," she gasped out, her voice a fragile thread. "It was yours. And now it's gone."

She let out a bitter, mocking smile, and then her eyes rolled back. She went limp, unconscious once more.

Conrad's hand dropped to his side. The strength drained from his legs. He staggered backward, his back hitting the wall with a thud.

The gurney was wheeled out at a run, leaving a trail of bloody drops on the linoleum.

Else saw the shift in Conrad's demeanor. She quickly rolled her wheelchair toward him, grabbing the edge of his jacket. "Conrad... maybe she's lying. You can't trust her."

Conrad slowly turned his head to look at Else. The look in his eyes was feral, so full of rage that Else flinched back, shutting her mouth instantly.

He ignored her. He took off running, following the trail of blood toward the operating rooms.

At the end of the hall, the gurney disappeared behind the heavy metal doors. The red "In Surgery" light clicked on with a final, decisive buzz.

Conrad slammed into the doors. He pounded his fists against the cold metal, the sound echoing his despair.

Audrey walked up beside him. She let out a cold, bitter laugh. She reached into her bag and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper she had found in Crista's apartment earlier. She threw it at his face with all her might.

The paper hit his chest and fluttered to the floor. Conrad looked down.

It was an ultrasound image. The black and white graininess showed a tiny, eight-week-old gestational sac.

The proof was undeniable. Conrad's psychological defenses crumbled. His knees gave out. He sank to the floor in front of the operating room doors.

He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking violently. A sound like a wounded animal escaped his throat.

At the end of the corridor, Caleb had changed into his surgical gown. He paused, looking coldly at the man kneeling on the floor. Then he turned and walked into the OR. The doors swung shut, locking Conrad out in the silence of the hallway.