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ELEANOR

“What?”

While lying in a hospital ward after giving birth to his child and waiting for him to return from work to settle our bills, I read a letter from a man I should address as my husband.

The news weighed heavily on me, so I shouted at the top of my lungs, refusing to believe my eyes.

This cannot be true.

It could only have been a dream.

“What the fuck is this?” Fear washed over me, and I briefly considered that the message was not for me and could not be for me either.

I was mistaken.

The letter was addressed to me.

All the way from Andrew Hoover, aka my husband.

Was this a prank or something?

I read the letter several times as I tried to piece together the events of my life.

There is no way he could do something like this to me.

Especially not today!

Was this some kind of joke?

I looked around the room for a camera, but there was not one, and it dawned on me that all of this was becoming a reality.

Andrew had done nothing but shower me with love before our wedding three years ago.

He did all he could and provided me with everything I needed, which was one of the reasons I trusted him enough to quit my job at my father's company before fleeing with him.

How could I possibly be so stupid?

Was he seeing somebody else?

I should have realized!

I shouted at the top of my lungs again, unconcerned about the newly born baby being startled by my voice. What good would it be to try to get her to sleep if she was going to die in an hour, if not the next day?

I yelled again, and the hospital ward door was pushed open. The same nurse who had handed over the letter dashed into the room with two other staff members.

"What is wrong, Mrs. Hoover?" She inquired, hurrying to the other side to pet the baby.

"Your child has not gotten enough sleep since she was born. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" She was furious, and I could not blame her.

Not a single moment.

“My—” I was unable to speak.

My voice was gone.

Even the words to say were lost.

“My—” I raised my voice and tried again, glancing at the letter in my hand before looking at the woman's face. "I have no idea what to do, nurse. The Father of the baby will be unable to reach the hospital."

"What—what do you mean?" She inquired, her gaze drawn to the other staff members who had entered with her. She then instructed them to ‘excuse us,’ and they were gone from the ward, leaving just the two of us and a crying baby, which she tried to put back to sleep, oblivious to the fact that none of these things were necessary.

"This should not be my concern, Mrs. Hoover," she cried. “I don't have the money to deposit on your behalf into the hospital's bank account. I was sent for training, and there are no allowances assigned to me at the end of the day, week, or month."

At this point, I had shed far too many tears.

I should have known Andrew's late return from work would lead to this.

He had been distant lately, and I was concerned that something was wrong at his workplace.

Strange perfumes and fragrances that we did not own were all over him, as were traces of lipsticks that I did not own on his shirt collar.

Stupid me.

I should have realized I was about to be dumped, but I was an idiot who could not read between the lines and instead let the line read me.

"Can I have my phone?" I inquired after some time had passed. The young woman gave it to me and then left me alone.

Fortunately for me, there were no distractions in the ward because we were the only two people there.

What could I do in this situation?

It was difficult for me to sit back on the bed at this point in my life, even though I could still feel pain in my lower back.

I was now on my feet, pacing the room and contemplating how to save my daughter’s life.

What should I do at this point?

What about calling my father?

Who knows what happens?

Even though we last saw him three years ago, he could be overjoyed to learn of the birth of his first granddaughter.

I looked at the phone's screen and quickly found archived numbers, pulling his number from the bin and dialing it the next moment.

“H—he—”

“Hello. Good day.” The other end of the phone call rang with the voice of a man I once loved and still do.

"Robert Jackson on the line. How may I assist you today?" His voice rang out as I lost track of mine, wondering for the umpteenth time how to break the news of his daughter's abandonment to him, despite knowing how well he warned me about Andrew.

I was such a stupid person!

"It is me, Dad," I finally replied. "This is Eleanor. I am in the hospital with my child, and we need your assistance. Please help us before I lose her. I beg of you, Dad.”

“Eleanor?”

"Y—yes, Dad." I responded.

"I gave birth just a few hours ago. Andrew is currently unable to travel to the hospital due to a work-related emergency. He does not return my calls, and I believe there is something wrong with him. I have no one to run to except you, which is why I am calling."

Dad chuckled, much to my surprise.

Why was I surprised?

"How can a man be on an emergency trip when his wife is due to give birth?" He asked a question.

"Is this another way of saying that the man you love and dumped us for has now dumped you?" His laughter filled my ears, increasing my fear.

"Oh, Eleanor. Come on. Be patient and wait for him. He would arrive at the appropriate time. Now don't dial my number for any reason, ever again.”

“Dad—?”

He hung up.

“Dad, no! Dad, you cannot do this to me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs and threw the phone to the ground, unconcerned about anything except my daughter's life.

There was no one to contact.

There was no one to come to my rescue or no one to save me.

Was this a possible way to lose a child?

Does this mean I will lose a baby I have waited three years for?

Does this imply that I will lose my first fruit as a result of the wickedness of a man who should love me and return my love?

The door opened with a push.

The nurse was right there.

"I have come to see you," she said, her smile not so bright. "I believe I have a solution to your problem, but I am not sure if you will be willing to do this so that your baby's life can be saved." She went on to explain further before exiting the room and closing the door.

The door opened again, but this time it was a man who walked in.

A man wearing a fine suit and smiling.

His face was difficult to see, especially with his dark glasses. At this point, I feared that Andrew, who had demonstrated his hatred for me, was orchestrating a plot to ruin me.

He shut the door behind him and looked up to meet my inquisitive gaze, moping at me, then at the nearly lifeless child who lay in her cot, pleading for her life.

"Be my wife, Mrs. Hoover," he said, removing the dark glasses. "I need a wife, and you appear to be the ideal candidate for this role. What do you have to say?"

His face.

It appeared overly familiar.

No way.

This was Raymond Jefferson—

—a well-known multi-billionaire from the United States who, miraculously, is aware of my situation.

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