The Billionaire's Forsaken Wife

Pregnant: six weeks

Camila stood in shock as she gazed at the ultrasound report, her mind reeling with disbelief. How could this be possible after just one time? What would she do now? Should she tell Ethan about the pregnancy and reconsider their impending divorce? No, revealing this news might only make him resent her, thinking she was using the baby as leverage.

Suppressing the turmoil in her heart, Camila swiftly stashed the ultrasound report in her bag and exited the hospital. Outside, parked glamorously in a sleek Maybach, sat Ethan Dawson. Only a fraction of his composed profile was visible through the partially opened car window, exuding an air of aloof sophistication that drew attention from onlookers.

Despite the curious gazes directed at them, Ethan remained unfazed by the public scrutiny. With eyes closed in momentary repose, he detected Camila's approach without needing to open his eyes. "Is it taken care of?" he inquired softly.

Camila nodded in confirmation, passing him a signed contract that Jorge Allen had requested she deliver. "He wanted to greet you," she added, puzzled by why Ethan had personally come to pick her up.

"This case is under your jurisdiction," Ethan stated succinctly before steering away from discussing further details about the contract.

In the car, silence enveloped them, broken only by his curt instructions. The vehicle navigated through the bustling city center as dusk settled in, yet Ethan made no move to return to the villa. Camila's mind buzzed with questions about his destination, but she held back from asking, opting for silence instead. The weight of revealing her ultrasound hung heavy on her mind, unsure of how to broach the subject with him. His gaze bore into her, sharp and unyielding.

"Ethan!" Camila's voice trembled as she spoke, her palm moist with anxiety gripping the bag tightly. Sweaty palms betrayed her nerves as she struggled to find the right words. "Go ahead! What do you want to say?" Ethan's tone remained icy, devoid of any warmth or empathy.

As Camila steeled herself to speak further, Ethan's phone interrupted, halting her words mid-sentence. She bit back her unfinished thoughts as he answered the call with a softness reserved for Vivian Murray alone. Eavesdropping on their conversation left Camila feeling like an intruder in her own life.

The sudden screech of brakes jolted Camila back to reality as Ethan abruptly ended the call and turned his cold stare towards her. "Get out of the car!" His command brooked no argument. This routine was all too familiar to her – a constant reminder of where she stood in Ethan's life.

Nodding silently, Camila suppressed her inner turmoil and obediently exited the vehicle as instructed. Her marriage to Ethan was a mere formality orchestrated by circumstances; love had never entered their equation. She was merely a pawn in Ethan's world where Vivian reigned supreme.

Returning to the eerie stillness of their darkened villa, Camila's lack of appetite mirrored the emptiness she felt inside. Fatigue weighed heavily on her pregnant body as she retreated to bed. As sleep beckoned, distant sounds of a car engine sputtering outside hinted at Ethan's return – a stark reminder of his divided attention between two worlds.

Camila, still groggy from sleep, noticed the bedroom door ajar. Her gaze fell upon Ethan, his damp figure making a beeline for the bathroom without acknowledging her presence. The sound of the shower filled the room as she lay awake, unable to drift back into slumber. Rising quietly, she dressed and retrieved his pajamas from the wardrobe, placing them by the bathroom door before stepping out onto the balcony.

Outside, in the midst of the rainy season, a gentle drizzle painted the dark sky. The rhythmic tapping of raindrops on brick and tile created a soothing symphony that enveloped her senses. A sudden noise behind her drew Camila's attention, and turning around, she caught sight of Ethan emerging from the bathroom. Clad in only a bath towel that covered his lower body, water droplets cascaded down his muscular frame.

Sensing her gaze upon him, Ethan met her eyes with a frown. "Come here," he commanded in an indifferent tone. Obediently, Camila approached as he tossed her the towel he had been using. "Dry my hair," he instructed softly.

Accustomed to his demeanor, Camila complied without protest. As she knelt behind him on the edge of the bed, tending to his wet hair, thoughts of Grandpa's impending funeral weighed on her mind. Knowing Ethan's preoccupation with Vivian and fearing he might forget about it if left unsaid, she hesitated to broach the subject directly.

"Mmm," was all Ethan offered in response before lapsing into silence once more. Understanding his reluctance to engage further conversation, Camila worked in silence until his hair was dry before settling back into bed.

Pregnancy had taken its toll on Camila's energy levels; fatigue seemed to be a constant companion these days. Despite Ethan's usual routine of retiring to his study after bathing until midnight, tonight was different as he changed into fresh pajamas and lay beside her for reasons unknown.

Despite the unusual situation, she refrained from questioning him. Unexpectedly, he enveloped her in a tight embrace, pulling her close for a kiss. Swiftly, he removed her pajamas, causing Camila to momentarily panic. As his hand moved with force, she gazed up at him.

"Ethan, I..." she began hesitantly.

"No?" His mouth opened slowly, his black eyes intense as the night sky.

Camila averted her gaze, conflicted but feeling powerless in the moment.

"Could you please be gentle?" Her unborn child was only six weeks old; any roughness could pose a danger. His expression darkened at her request before wordlessly shifting his approach. With each sharp movement, Camila winced in pain, doing her best to shield the fragile life within her.

Outside, the rain intensified alongside flashes of lightning and rumbling thunder. The lights flickered as he finally rose and retreated to the bathroom. Camila, drenched in sweat from agony, contemplated taking pain relief but feared for her baby's safety.

A sudden ring interrupted the heavy atmosphere – Ethan's phone. Glancing at the clock showing 11:00 PM, Camila knew only Vivian would dare to call him at this hour.

As water ceased running in the bathroom, Ethan emerged wrapped in a towel. Ignoring Camila's presence, he answered the call with a furrowed brow. Though his conversation remained unheard by her, his abrupt tone towards Vivian was evident.

Preparing to depart after ending the call, Ethan was unexpectedly halted by Camila's plea to stay for the night. His reaction turned cold and disdainful at her request.

"Are you getting bold now?" His icy words cut through the air as he questioned her propriety.

Stunned by his response yet finding an unexpected resolve within herself, Camila met his gaze steadily before speaking softly,

"Tomorrow is Grandpa's funeral... Even if you must leave eventually... shouldn't there be some respect?"

His narrowed eyes bore into hers as he gripped her jaw firmly,

"Threatening me?" His voice is low and chilling. "Camila... you're growing up."

Camila, determined yet uncertain, faced him with a mix of resignation and hope in her eyes. "I agree to the divorce," she began, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability, "but under my terms. Stay by my side tonight for Grandpa's funeral. After that, I'll sign the papers." His response was not in words but in the subtle curve of his lips and the glint in his dark eyes that hinted at amusement and challenge.

As he drew closer, his breath against her ear sent shivers down her spine, his tone laced with a hint of defiance. "Your actions speak louder than words, Camila. Words alone won't sway me." She tentatively reached out to undo the towel around his waist, a gesture both bold and naive, eliciting a reaction she couldn't quite decipher.

With a sudden halt to her movements as he restrained her hand, she met his intense gaze that spoke volumes without uttering a word. The towel dropped noiselessly to the floor as she hesitated, caught between desire and uncertainty.

Her attempt at intimacy was met with an abrupt stop as he coolly rebuffed her advance. Bewilderment clouded her features at his detachment, realizing the futility of trying to win him over through mere physicality.

As he donned his pajamas with effortless grace, leaving her standing there in silent contemplation, a distant voice calling out his name shattered the fragile moment they shared. Camila watched him retreat into the night without looking back, leaving behind a lingering sense of longing and unanswered questions.

Outside on the balcony, Vivian stood drenched in the relentless downpour, her flimsy dress clinging to her shivering frame. Ethan hurriedly draped his coat over her shoulders, creating a makeshift shelter from the storm. As Vivian sought solace in his embrace, Camila observed from a distance, a sudden realization dawning upon her - despite two years by Ethan's side, she was no more significant than a passing phone call from Vivian.

With gentle determination, Ethan guided Vivian into the warmth of the villa, leaving Camila standing stoically at the top of the stairs. Her gaze fixated on the pair below. A pang of heartache pierced Camila as she witnessed Ethan's unwavering devotion to Vivian compared against his disregard for her own feelings.

"Move aside," Ethan's voice cut through the tension like ice, his dark eyes filled with disdain fixed upon Camila. Was she sad? She couldn't quite tell amidst the turmoil within her. Yet, what stung more than any emotional pain was witnessing how effortlessly Ethan cherished Vivian while neglecting her own worth.

As they ascended upstairs, Camila confronted Ethan with a plea born out of desperation and hurt. "When we wed, you vowed to your grandfather that as long as I am here, she wouldn't set foot in this place," she implored. This residence was their sanctuary; a space Camila had sacrificed countless nights for – why should it be tainted by Vivian's presence?

Ethan's response dripped with condescension and scorn towards Camila's concerns. Hurt and disillusioned, Camila could only watch helplessly as he led Vivian into the guest room without a second thought.

The night unfurled with an air of instability. A feverish Vivian received care from Ethan while Camila lingered on the periphery of their world – unwanted and disregarded. Coldly dismissed to return to Dawson's old house in such inclement weather, Camila felt a bitter mix of frustration and resignation at being deemed inconsequential.

Inwardly battling conflicting emotions, Camila maintained composure and resolved to retreat to her own room despite the ache in her chest. She refused to degrade herself further by vying for affection from someone who couldn't see beyond his own desires.

Turning away from the guest room, Camila encountered Brandon Dawson rushing down the hallway in disarray - clad in rumpled black pajamas with wet clothes clinging to his slender form - an unexpected presence amidst the unfolding drama within the villa.

Brandon and Camila crossed paths in the cramped hallway, where Brandon, looking slightly dazed, adjusted his attire before speaking up. "Mrs. Dawson, I've come for Vivian's medical needs," he announced. As Ethan's closest companion, Brandon's demeanor often spoke volumes about Ethan’s feelings towards someone. Without needing to assess his behavior closely, Camila recognized the respect in the way he addressed her as "Mrs. Dawson," a title both polite and unfamiliar to her.

Preferring not to dwell on the intricacies of their relationship, Camila graciously gestured for Brandon to proceed. "Well, please come in," she invited with a smile that masked a hint of envy towards Vivian’s ability to effortlessly evoke warmth.

Later, finding herself alone in the living room after Brandon had tended to Vivian efficiently by checking her temperature and prescribing medication, Camila noticed a set of unworn clothes belonging to Ethan. She carried them out and suggested to Brandon, "Your clothes are damp from the rain outside. Change into these dry ones before you leave; it's late and I wouldn't want you catching a cold."

Although initially taken aback by her unexpected gesture, Brandon accepted the clothes with a grateful smile. "I'm resilient; this won't affect me," he reassured her. But Camila insisted gently, "Ethan hasn’t worn these yet; they should fit you well."

As Camila retreated upstairs after handing over the clothes, memories of Brandon's pivotal role as her grandmother’s surgeon resurfaced in her mind. Those clothes symbolized more than just an act of kindness – they were a token of gratitude owed to him for his life-saving intervention during her grandmother’s hospitalization.

The morning after a heavy rainfall, the sun infused the air with a rich, earthy scent. Rising early was second nature to her. As Camila descended the stairs, freshly washed, she found Ethan and Vivian in the kitchen. Ethan, clad in a sleek black apron, stood gracefully by the stove frying eggs. The tantalizing aroma of sizzling eggs filled the room, gradually replacing the initial pungency with an inviting fragrance. Vivian's ebony eyes sparkled as they followed Ethan's movements. Her recent fever had subsided, leaving her delicate features looking enchanting and alluring.

"Be cautious with those eggs; I prefer them not too crispy," Vivian playfully warned as she playfully fed Ethan a strawberry before continuing, "Overcooked ones taste bitter." Ethan chewed on the sweet fruit, his gaze fixed warmly on Vivian despite his lack of verbal response.

A handsome man and a beautiful woman; their compatibility was undeniable, blending talent and beauty seamlessly. Their affectionate exchange created an atmosphere brimming with warmth and romance—truly heartwarming.

"They make quite a pair, don't they?" A voice interrupted behind her. Camila turned to find Brandon standing there. She momentarily forgot about last night's downpour and Vivian's illness; naturally, Ethan wouldn't have let Brandon leave under such circumstances.

"Good morning!" Camila greeted him with a smile, her eyes drifting to his attire—the clothes she had lent him last night. He caught her glance and raised an eyebrow appreciatively. "These clothes fit perfectly; thank you," he acknowledged.

Shaking her head modestly, she replied, "It was nothing." Although she had bought those clothes for Ethan specifically, he had never worn them.

Interrupting their moment, Vivian called out cheerfully from across the room, "Camila! Brandon! You're awake! Ethan has made eggs—come join us for breakfast!"

Her commanding tone carried hints of matriarchal authority. Camila chuckled softly before declining Vivian's invitation. "No need—I picked up some bread and milk yesterday; they're in the fridge."

This place had been her home for two years now; the real estate papers bore both Ethan's and her name. Despite any vulnerabilities she might harbor, she refused to let others take over what was rightfully hers—the nest where she belonged.

Vivian's heart skipped a beat when she overheard Camila's words, her expression turning to one of disbelief as her eyes clouded over. Without hesitation, she tugged at the hem of Ethan's shirt, leaning in to whisper urgently, "Ethan, I was so thoughtless last night. I disrupted your peace and Camila's. Could you please allow her to join us for breakfast? Consider it my way of making amends." It was a truth universally acknowledged that some individuals effortlessly navigated through life by simply playing up their vulnerabilities and charms instead of putting in actual effort.

Initially indifferent to Vivian's plea, Ethan cast a glance back at Camila and declared in a firm, authoritative tone, "Let's dine together." This kind of response had become all too familiar to Camila; she masked any hurt with a practiced smile and nodded gratefully, murmuring a soft "Thank you."