Chapter 4 - The Mask Slipped
"You planned to leave her with the birth debt," Judge Harper said. It wasn't a question. It was an indictment.
Eric stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back with a loud screech. "She ruined my life! She stopped being a wife the second she got pregnant! All she did was complain, all she did was cry about her mother, and I built an empire with my own hands!"
"Sit down, sir!" the remaining bailiff warned, his hand dropping toward his belt.
"No!" Eric yelled, his veneer of polished corporate sophistication completely shattering. The smooth, charming consultant who had swept me off my feet at twenty-four was gone. In his place was a cornered, vicious animal. He pointed a trembling finger across the aisle straight at my face.
"You think you’re smart, Lydia? You think you won something today? You’re carrying a child you can’t afford without me! That money is offshore. It’s tied up in international trusts. You won't see a single red cent by the time the courts figure it out. You’ll be begging me for diapers by next month!"
I didn't flinch. I didn't shout back.
I slowly stood up, placing both hands squarely on the mahogany table. My dark dress stretched taut over my stomach. The red welt on my face burned, but my voice was completely steady when I spoke directly to him for the first time all morning.
"I am not begging you for anything, Eric. I haven't needed you since the night I found that binder."
"Mr. Miller," Judge Harper’s voice sliced through the tension like an axe. "You are under arrest for felony perjury, criminal fraud, and attempting to defraud the court. Bailiff, secure him."
Before the officer could even step forward, an agonizing, white-hot spasm gripped my lower abdomen.
It was so sudden and intense that my breath caught in my throat. A sharp gasp tore from my lips, and my knees buckled beneath me.
"Lydia!" Richard lunged forward, catching my shoulders just before I hit the floor.
"Ah—" A deep, crushing wave rolled across my belly, tighter and more severe than any Braxton-Hicks contraction I had felt over the last three weeks.
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Then came the terrifying, undeniable warmth of liquid soaking through my clothes, pooling on the floor beneath my shoes.
My water had broken.
