The ultrasound screen was still warm when I heard them laughing in the hallway.\n\nI recognized Ryan’s voice first—soft, familiar, the same one that whispered 'it’s going to be okay' when I panicked at twelve weeks. But now it curled around someone else. 'She doesn’t suspect a thing,' he said. 'Thinks she’s just some nobody wife.'\n\nI froze, the gel drying cold on my abdomen. They didn’t know I was still in the room. 'Good,' came Samantha’s reply. 'Let her keep playing house. By the time she figures it out, we’ll have everything.'\n\nI stood, clutching the edge of the bed. My phone buzzed—James: They’re filing for custody of the company shares. You need to come home.\n\nHome. Not the townhouse Ryan picked, but the Carter estate, where my name means power. Where I was born to fight.\n\nI wiped my skin clean, dressed slowly, and stared at my reflection. No more hiding.\n\nBut what now? Do I walk out silently and gather my forces? Confront them here, expose their lies in this sterile room? Or do I pretend I heard nothing—and let them dig their own grave?