Chapter 2 - The Four Pink Lines
Two days later, the rain was still pouring outside the small, warm apartment of my best friend, Dr. Rachel Vance.
Rachel was an OB-GYN at New York Presbyterian, a brilliant woman with a sharp tongue and a heart of gold. She sat across from me at her kitchen table, watching me sip lukewarm tea.
"Twelve million, Evie?" Rachel asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "They literally bought you out like a corporate asset. Arthur Whitmore is a monster, and Julian is a spineless coward."
"I don't care about the money, Rach," I whispered, staring into my mug. "I just... I feel empty. For three years, I tried everything. I took hormones, I tracked cycles, I prayed every single night. And Vanessa walks in and gets pregnant with three boys on the first try."
"Because universe has a twisted sense of humor," Rachel sighed. Then her eyes darted to the bathroom door. "Speaking of which... did you ever take that test? You said you were two weeks late, but you thought it was just stress from the divorce."
My heart hammered against my ribs. In the madness of the past month—discovering Julian’s affair, confronting Arthur, signing the papers—my body had taken a backseat. But deep down, a quiet, terrifying instinct had been whispering to me.
"I took it five minutes ago," I said, my voice barely audible. "It’s sitting on your sink."
Rachel didn't wait. She stood up immediately and walked into the bathroom. A moment later, I heard her gasp.
I stood up, my knees trembling, and stepped into the doorway. Rachel was holding the plastic stick, her eyes wide as saucers.
Two solid, bold pink lines.
"You're pregnant," Rachel whispered, looking up at me.
Panic and awe collided in my chest. "No... no, it can't be. Julian and I haven't... not since six weeks ago, before he left for his 'business trip' to London with Vanessa."
"Six weeks is exact timing, Evelyn," Rachel said softly. "Come on. We’re going to the clinic right now. I’m doing an ultrasound."
Thirty minutes later, I was lying on an examination table in Rachel’s private clinic after hours. The room was dark, lit only by the glowing blue screen of the ultrasound machine. Rachel applied the cold gel to my stomach and pressed the transducer against my skin.
For a few moments, only the rhythmic sound of the machine filled the room.
"Okay," Rachel said, tracing the screen with her finger. "There's the gestational sac. There's one embryo."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. A baby. Julian’s baby. A child I would raise alone, far away from the toxic Whitmore empire.
"Wait," Rachel murmured, leaning closer to the monitor. Her brows furrowed as she adjusted the dial. "Hold on... look here."
"What is it? Is something wrong?" My heart plummeted.
"No, not wrong..." Rachel whispered, her voice dropping an octave. "Two. There's a second sac, Evie. Twins."
I blinked back tears. "Twins?"
"Hold on..." Rachel moved the transducer half an inch to the left. The room went completely silent. Her hand froze. The color drained from her face as she stared at the screen, her mouth slightly open.
"Rachel? What is it? Speak to me!" I panicked, sitting up slightly.
"Evelyn... lie back down," Rachel said, her voice shaking violently. She pointed a trembling finger at the screen, clicking the freezer button on the machine to capture the frame. "One... two... three..."
She stopped moving the probe altogether. Her eyes met mine, filled with absolute shock and pure wonder.
"Evelyn... there are four."
"Four?" I squeaked, my voice cracking.
"Quadruplets," Rachel breathed. "You are carrying four babies, Evie."
Four. Not one. Not twins. Not three boys like Vanessa was carrying. Four.
I lay back on the table, staring up at the white ceiling tiles as tears finally overflowed and ran down my cheeks. Julian had traded me away because I couldn't give him an heir. His father had offered twelve million dollars to clear the path for three boys.
And inside my womb, four tiny hearts were beating in unison.
"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked gently, wiping my cheeks with a tissue. "Do we call Julian? Do we tell Arthur?"
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I looked at the ultrasound image printed out on the thermal paper—four little dots side by side, hidden from the cruel world outside.
"No," I said, my voice suddenly turning as hard as steel. "We tell no one. The Whitmores traded me for three heirs. They will never, ever touch mine."
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