A Heartless Bet

The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the pristine consultation room of General Hospital.

"Congratulations. You're pregnant. The baby is in good health."

The doctor’s affirming words echoed through the quiet space, hanging in the air like a sudden burst of sunlight. Genevieve Ashford sat frozen in the leather guest chair. She stared blankly at the middle-aged physician, her breath hitching in her throat. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the crisp edges of the medical report. The paper felt monumental in her grasp.

Pregnant?

The realization washed over her, filling her chest with an overwhelming sense of happy surprise. It was nothing short of a miracle. After two years of a quiet, carefully navigated marriage, this was the ultimate blessing. She simply could not believe her ears.

The doctor tapped his silver pen against the wooden desk, snapping her out of her joyful daze. "Remember to come in for regular appointments. The first trimester is crucial. Where is the father? Call him in. I have some specific instructions for him regarding your daily care."

Genevieve adjusted her posture and offered an awkward, apologetic smile. "My husband's not with me today."

The doctor frowned, his disapproval evident. "Honestly, even if he's busy, he should still be with his family for a moment like this."

Genevieve did not argue. She politely thanked the doctor, gathered her belongings, and stepped out of the hospital's sliding glass doors.

A gloomy, drizzling rain was falling over the city of Vendell. The gray clouds cast a dreary shadow over the busy streets, but Genevieve’s world was painted in vibrant, hopeful colors. She stood beneath the hospital's overhang and gently stroked her flat abdomen. The damp chill of the wind brushed against her cheeks, yet a profound warmth radiated from her core. She marveled at the incredible reality of her situation. There was now a tiny, fragile life growing inside her. It was a precious child belonging to both her and her husband, Donovan Prescott. Surely, this baby would bridge the emotional distance between them.

A sudden buzz in her designer purse interrupted her reverie.

She pulled out her phone and unlocked the screen. The notification displayed a direct message from Donovan.

'It's raining. Get an umbrella to this address.'

A digital map pin was attached to the brief command. Genevieve opened it. The location was the exclusive Oasis Country Club.

She furrowed her brows in mild confusion. What was this place? He had a board meeting scheduled at the corporate headquarters today, right?

Still, her unwavering devotion overpowered any lingering questions. If Donovan needed her, she would go without hesitation. She did not question his motives. She quickly summoned the Prescotts' family driver to take her to the upscale venue.

The sleek luxury sedan navigated through the wet city streets. By the time the vehicle pulled up to the grand, imposing gates of the Oasis Country Club, the weather had noticeably worsened.

Genevieve grabbed an elegant black umbrella from the backseat and looked at the driver. "You may head back first."

Benson gripped the steering wheel and turned to look at her with concern. "Do I not need to wait for you, Mrs. Prescott?"

She paused for a moment, glancing at the sprawling, luxuriously decorated golf club through the rain-streaked window. She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll wait to head home with Donovan."

Since she was here specifically for him, it only made sense that she would head home with him. It would give them the perfect private space to discuss the pregnancy. With that final instruction, Benson nodded obediently and drove off, the vehicle's taillights disappearing into the gray mist.

The rain had started as a gentle drizzle outside the hospital, but it had now escalated into a steady, aggressive storm.

Genevieve deployed the umbrella over her head. The heavy raindrops drummed violently against the waterproof canopy. She walked up the pristine marble steps toward the magnificent glass entrance of the country club. The warm, golden light spilling from the lobby offered a stark contrast to the miserable weather outside.

Just as she reached the door, a uniformed employee stepped into her path, his expression polite but firm.

He held up a hand. "I'm sorry, miss, but please show me your member card."

Genevieve stopped. She did not have a membership card for this private establishment. She took a moment to think about her next course of action. She stepped back slightly to avoid blocking the doorway and pulled out her phone, messaging Donovan.

'I'm here. When are you done with work? I'll be waiting for you downstairs.'

Once the message was successfully sent, she retreated to a spot near the bottom of the entrance steps. She stood there obediently, gripping the handle of the umbrella as the storm raged around her. As she stared out into the relentless rain, her thoughts drifted back to the medical report safely tucked inside her purse.

How should she break the news to him? Perhaps she should tell him the moment he walked out of those glass doors? Or should she wait to surprise him properly on his upcoming birthday? The joyful anticipation made the freezing wind feel entirely bearable.

Unbeknownst to her shivering self, she had become the ultimate laughingstock for a cruel group gathered in a private suite upstairs.

Inside the lavishly decorated room, the air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and premium liquor. A group of wealthy elites were pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the tiny, pathetic figure waiting faithfully in the storm.

A man in a flashy suit chuckled darkly. "She's not your actual wife, but she's quite good at it, Don. She is actually here with an umbrella because you asked. She doesn't really think you would walk through the rain, right?"

Another friend leaned against the glass and scoffed. "Is she so in love with you that she has forgotten all about logic?"

A languid, resonant voice rang out from the shadowy corner of the luxurious room. "What nonsense."

The speaker was Donovan Prescott. He was a tall man with long legs and a striking, inherently cold face. His fair skin and wide, slanted eyes highlighted his incredible, dangerous attractiveness. Dressed flawlessly in a gray bespoke suit, he sat on a plush leather sofa with his legs crossed, exuding absolute dominance and indifference.

He slowly raised his hand, the subtle movement revealing the exquisite and luxurious watch strapped to his wrist. "Hand it over."

The friend who had hijacked Donovan's phone to play the malicious prank sighed. He had no choice but to walk over and return the device.

A man sitting near the bar clicked his tongue. "Tsk. Are we giving back the phone that quickly?"

The prankster tossed the phone onto the glass table. "Enough. If Melody wasn't here, you wouldn't even have a chance to lay a finger on his phone."

The wealthy crowd continued to joke and laugh, their attention naturally shifting toward the beautiful woman seated intimately beside Donovan.

Melody Dawson was a vision of perfection. She was dressed in an elegant white dress that made her look remarkably kind, pure, and gentle. She radiated a fragile beauty that demanded protection.

Hearing the playful banter, she pursed her soft lips into a delicate smile. "All right," she softly said, her voice like velvet. "It was wrong of you to use Don's phone for a prank, and now, you're making fun of me."

The friends did not plan on letting up on their relentless teasing. They reveled in the drama.

One of them raised his crystal glass and called out. "Everyone knows you're the most important person to Don, Melody."

Another immediately chimed in, grinning widely. "That's right. Donovan would say that as well, right?"

When Melody heard that bold declaration, she could not resist shifting her gaze. She cast a shy, hopeful glance at Donovan, silently waiting for his reaction.

Donovan met her gaze. He simply smiled. He did not utter a single word of denial.

When the group saw his silent confirmation, the teasing worsened. The room buzzed with arrogant amusement at the expense of the woman waiting outside.

The man by the window laughed loudly. "I told you, there is no one more important to Don than Melody!"

As his friends continued to mercilessly mock Genevieve's blind devotion, Donovan casually reached forward. He picked up his phone, unlocked it, and swiftly texted his wife.

'I don't need the umbrella anymore. Head home first.'

Down in the freezing courtyard, Genevieve felt the familiar vibration in her pocket. She quickly retrieved the device, shielding the screen from the pouring rain. She opened the message.

She was deeply puzzled by the abrupt dismissal. After rushing all the way here and waiting in the biting cold, he was simply telling her to leave. She typed out a quick response.

'Did something happen?'

She hit send and stood perfectly still. She stared down at her phone for a long time, watching the rain hit the screen. Minutes ticked by, but there was no reply.

The joyful anticipation that had carried her through the storm began to rapidly deteriorate. Her heart sank. Perhaps he was really busy with an important client.

She let out a quiet sigh. She decided it was best to head back first and not cause him any trouble.

She turned around, preparing to walk down the long, flooded driveway.

"Wait."

Someone suddenly called out to her from behind.

Genevieve stopped and turned around. She saw two fashionable young women walking over to her from the sheltered entrance of the country club. They were dressed in high-end designer clothing, holding expensive handbags to shield themselves from the mist.

The taller woman stopped a few feet away. She glanced at Genevieve from head to toe, her eyes brimming with undisguised disgust. "You're Genevieve Ashford?"

Hostility was painted all over the stranger's heavily contoured face. Genevieve immediately sensed the malice. She did not hold back her guard and briskly shot back. "You are?"

The tall woman sneered disdainfully. "My name is not important. What is important is the fact that Melody is back. If you're smart, you'll get away from Donovan."

Genevieve's pupils shrank in sheer astonishment. The air was violently punched from her lungs.

Melody.

It had been so long since she last heard that specific name. So much time had passed, so many days and nights spent building a life with Donovan, that she had nearly forced herself to forget Melody even existed. The mention of that woman delivered a crushing blow to her chest, shattering her carefully maintained composure in an instant.

Her visceral reaction was clearly noticed. The second woman shot her a severely scornful look.

"Why are you so shocked? Have you turned into an idiot after pretending to be Mrs. Prescott for two years? Did you think the position is really yours?"

Genevieve bit her bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. Her face turned pale white, draining of all the vibrant color it possessed earlier. The knuckles of the hand holding onto the umbrella handle were also turning dead white from her desperate grip.

The tall woman crossed her arms, mercilessly mocking Genevieve's pathetic role. "Look at her face. Do you think she's going to steal Melody's man out of spite?"

The other woman laughed cruelly. "Can she, though?"

Genevieve could not endure another second of this public humiliation. She turned and walked away, not bothering to listen to whatever toxic poison they would spew next.

She picked up her pace, fleeing into the pouring storm in absolute devastation. The heavy, relentless rain drowned out their cruel, echoing laughter. The icy water slashed against her legs and soaked through her shoes, but the physical cold was nothing compared to the overwhelming heartbreak tearing her apart from the inside.

By the time she finally reached the sprawling Prescott Residence, she was completely soaked to the bone. She stood on the grand doorstep, trembling uncontrollably from the chill.

The heavy front door swung open. Arthur Higgins, the head butler, stepped out. He was instantly shocked to find someone standing there in such a state.

He adjusted his glasses to make out who it was. "Mrs. Prescott!"

Arthur quickly stepped aside, his face pale with worry. "What happened to you? Come in."

Genevieve stepped into the luxurious foyer. She was so cold that her limbs felt heavy and rather numb. In just a few seconds after stepping into the house, the quiet residence sprang to life. She was quickly surrounded by a group of panicked servants.

One maid rushed forward, wrapping her shivering frame in a huge, warm towel. Another gently began drying her soaking wet hair with a smaller cloth.

The head housekeeper shouted orders down the hall. "Draw the madam a hot water bath!"

Another servant dashed toward the kitchen. "Get a cup of tea ready."

The servants were panicking so badly over how soaked and pitiful she looked that the foyer devolved into absolute chaos. Because of the frantic rushing, no one noticed a sleek black car driving through the heavy iron gates. Nor did they notice the tall, imposing figure stepping onto the porch soon after.

That was until a cold, commanding voice rang out, piercing through the busy room.

"What happened?"

The sheer authority in the voice made Genevieve jump from where she was sitting hunched on the velvet couch. She clutched the towel tightly around her chest.

Why was Donovan back?

Should he not be comfortably stationed beside his precious Melody?

Arthur turned around and quickly bowed his head. "The madam was caught in the rain, sir."

Caught in the rain? Donovan's dark, impenetrable eyes immediately turned to the petite figure curled up on the couch. He strode over, his polished shoes thudding heavily against the floor.

He stopped directly in front of her. He frowned deeply when he properly saw the miserable state she was in.

Currently, she looked like a drowned rat. Her soft hair was limp and clung desperately to her pale skin. Her usually pink lips were a sickly shade of white. She looked overwhelmingly vulnerable.

"What happened to you?" he harshly barked out, scowling harder at her shivering form.

Genevieve dug her fingernails into her palms. She suppressed her raging emotional turmoil, waiting until she had full control over her trembling jaw. She slowly looked up at him and forced a wan, unconvincing smile onto her face.

She swallowed hard. "My phone died. On my way back, I bumped into a kid caught in the rain without an umbrella."

Donovan's eyes immediately went freezing cold with disdain. He saw right through the absurdity of the lie.

He leaned down slightly, his presence suffocating. "Are you crazy?"

Her forced smile went incredibly stiff.

"You gave him the umbrella, and you ended up walking through the rain," he continued, ruthlessly scolding her. "How old are you? Did you think I would praise you for doing that?"

The severe reprimand echoed off the high ceiling. The servants standing around them nervously glanced at each other, far too afraid to say a single word in her defense. They slowly backed away, leaving her utterly isolated under his wrath.

Genevieve's eyelashes hung low, casting dark shadows over her pale cheeks. Her vision was completely blurred by unshed tears by now.

She violently forced herself to keep quiet. She clenched her jaw, desperately fighting to hold her tears back and swallow her massive sorrow. She refused to break down in front of the man who had just discarded her for another woman.

It was a harsh internal battle, and it was entirely doable. She was holding her ground.

That was until Donovan unexpectedly stepped forward.

Without a word of warning, he leaned down and slipped his strong arms beneath her. He effortlessly lifted her into his broad chest in a secure bridal carry.

The sudden, undeniable warmth of his body enveloping her freezing frame was the final strike. It was only under the heat of his sudden embrace that her fragile emotional defenses completely crumbled. She squeezed her eyes shut. A single drop of tear slipped free from her lashes. It rolled down her cold cheek and fell silently onto the back of her hand.