Pregnant woman abandoned by husband wins lottery, he comes crawling back.
The knock on my apartment door was a violent startle, echoing through my small space. I knew it was him. How could I not?
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against my baby bump. Brenda, bless her fierce loyalty, was already moving.
She positioned herself between me and the door, a protective barrier.
“Who is it?” she called out, her voice firm.
“Evelyn, darling, it’s me,” Marcus’s voice purred through the wood, a sickeningly sweet sound I once found charming.
Now, it was just a prelude to poison.
Brenda glanced back at me, her eyes asking if I wanted to open it. I gave a small, shaky nod. We had to face him eventually.
She unlocked the deadbolt, but kept the chain on, opening the door only a crack.
Marcus stood there, holding a ridiculous bouquet of wilting grocery store roses. His smile was wide, too wide, and utterly fake. He looked like he was auditioning for a role.
“Darling, let me in,” he said, pushing gently against the door. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
Brenda blocked him, her hand braced against the frame. “Worried? You abandoned her. You drained her accounts. Remember?”
Marcus’s smile faltered for a microsecond. Then he chuckled, a smooth, practiced sound. “Brenda, always so dramatic. Can I just speak to my wife?”
“She’s right here,” Brenda said, stepping aside just enough for him to see me, perched cautiously on the arm of the sofa, my swollen belly prominent.
His eyes immediately darted to my stomach, then to my face, assessing. His gaze lingered for a moment on the faint shimmer of the new, expensive ring I’d bought myself with a fraction of my winnings.
“Evelyn,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone that made my skin crawl. “Look, I know things were… tense. But I’m here now. I was just giving you space. Testing your independence, you know?”
My jaw tightened. “Testing my independence? By leaving me with nothing? By cutting off my access to everything we owned, while seven months pregnant?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that. A misunderstanding. A temporary measure. I always intended to come back. To provide for our child. To build our future.”
He gestured vaguely with the roses, nearly hitting the doorframe.
“And now you expect me to believe that?” I asked, my voice rising. “After you said you wanted nothing to do with me or the baby? That you wouldn’t provide a single dollar?”
He sighed, shaking his head with an air of long-suffering patience. “Evelyn, darling, you were emotional. You misheard. Misunderstood. These things happen.”
“These things happen?” Brenda scoffed, unable to contain herself. “You said it word for word, Marcus. In front of witnesses.”
He ignored her, his eyes fixed on me. “I’ve been thinking about this. Our child deserves the best. And with your… recent stroke of luck,” he said, a glint entering his eyes, “we can provide that. Together.”
“Together?” I felt a cold anger replace my fear. “You think you’re getting any part of this money after what you did?”
“Of course, I am,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m your husband. And the father of our child. That’s half mine by right, Evelyn. It’s for *our* family. Our future.”
He leaned closer to the crack in the door, trying to make eye contact. “Think about it. We can buy a beautiful house. The best doctors for the baby. Everything you dreamed of.”
“Everything *we* dreamed of,” I corrected, a bitter taste in my mouth, “before you decided those dreams weren’t worth a cent.”
“That’s just it, though,” he argued, his voice becoming slightly harder. “Now they’re worth a lot of cents. Forty-seven million of them, to be precise.”
His casual mention of the figure felt like a slap.
Brenda stepped forward again. “You have no right to this money, Marcus. Evelyn won it. With her last twenty dollars, after you took everything else.”
He glared at Brenda. “Stay out of this, Brenda. This is between a husband and his wife.”
“Not anymore,” I said, my voice gaining strength. “You forfeited that right when you walked out.”
His face began to flush. The charming facade was cracking, bits of his true self showing through.
“You’re being difficult, Evelyn,” he said, his tone turning menacing. “You don’t understand how this works. I’m telling you, it’s half mine.”
“It’s not,” I stated, shaking my head. “And you won’t be getting a single cent from me.”
He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. The fake smile was gone completely, replaced by a sneer.
“You think you can just cut me out?” he seethed. “You think you can keep me from my child’s inheritance?”
“There is no inheritance from *you*,” I retorted, the words feeling good as they left my mouth. “Just from me. And I decide who gets what.”
He pressed his hand flat against the door, his knuckles white. The wilting roses drooped in his other hand.
“You’ll regret this,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I can make your life a living hell, Evelyn. I know people. I know how to make things… difficult.”
Brenda pushed the door slightly, trying to close the gap. “Get out of here, Marcus. Before I call the police.”
He took a step back, his eyes still locked on mine. He slowly straightened, a chilling resolve settling on his face.
“Fine,” he bit out. “If that’s how you want to play it. But you haven’t heard the last of me. Not by a long shot.”
He tossed the roses to the ground, a crumpled, pathetic heap, then turned and walked away. But before he reached the stairwell, he spun back, his voice echoing in the hallway.
“I’ll make sure everyone knows what kind of woman you really are, Evelyn Reed! A selfish, unstable fool who thinks she can betray her husband and keep what’s rightfully his!”
The door slammed shut, the sound rattling the small apartment. I leaned against Brenda, my legs suddenly weak. His words hung in the air, a venomous promise. What exactly did he mean by that?
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours