From Baby Bump to Broken Back - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Half a month slipped by in the blink of an eye. When Darrel woke up that morning, his eyes were bloodshot, avoiding my gaze like a guilty man dodging judgment.
"Giselle," he said, voice strained, "I've booked an appointment with the top specialist overseas. I swear, I'll make sure your legs recover."
Yesterday, during my rehab test, I'd faked worse paralysis than I actually had. And just as I'd expected, today's medical report was dismal.
"There's no immediate concern, Mr. Darrel," the doctor said carefully. "However, if you were hoping to conceive in the near future, I wouldn't recommend it."
Temporarily unable to have children? I nearly laughed out loud. What a convenient lie Darrel must have fed him.
Women without legs could still bear children. Yet here I was—declared infertile back when I could still stand on my own two feet. The irony was almost poetic.
Fine. If that's how he wanted to play it, I'd give him exactly what he wanted.
"Darrel," I said softly, forcing my voice to tremble, "I know how much you want a child. Maybe... maybe my legs won't recover. What if we adopted one?"
Every word felt like glass shards in my throat. Darrel barely hesitated—just a flicker of surprise before he pulled me into a suffocating embrace.
"Trust me, this is only temporary," he murmured, voice thick with false reassurance. "Once I fulfill my parents' wishes, we'll go abroad. Start fresh—just the three of us."
How meticulously he'd planned it all—our future, our escape. The only flaw in his grand design? I already knew about Edmund.
And Darrel wasted no time. Within days, he brought the boy to me, eager to legitimize his bastard son.
"You're his mother now," Darrel said, cautious, like he expected me to bolt. "You should meet him first."
I turned my gaze to the boy lingering outside the hospital room—polished, poised, oozing privilege at every glance. Rage coiled in my chest like a venomous snake.
Why does his illegitimate child get to live in luxury while mine never even took a breath?
But I smiled. "You must be Edmund. Come here."
Then I saw it—the peace sign pendant around his neck.
The exact same one Darrel had pressed into my hands the day I went into labor, nine months swollen with hope. An heirloom, he'd called it.
Yet Edmund's was older. More valuable.
I swallowed the acid on my tongue. "So, little one, who takes care of you? Is she here?"
I needed to see her—this Karina Reverie.
No sooner had the words left my mouth than the sharp click of heels echoed through the ward. Darrel's face went pale.
"Darrel, I couldn't let him come alone," a smooth voice purred. "You don't mind, do you?"
My breath hitched.
Her.
All those nights Darrel came home drunk, slurring my name—I'd seen glimpses of her shadow. She'd been haunting our marriage for years.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to let my mask slip.
"Hello, Mrs. Giselle," she said, all saccharine politeness. "I'm Edmund's mother—Dr. Karina Reverie. I also work here at the hospital."
She spun a tale of college sweethearts and accidents, while Darrel stammered that she was just the adoptive mother. Lies stacked upon lies—neither of them brave enough to admit the truth.
Then her bracelet slipped loose.
My eyes locked onto it—the same crude, handmade thing I'd seen Darrel bring home more than once.
His wrist was bare now.
But hers wasn't.