The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 122: My baby it is

Somewhere in the Alcester, in a private hospital, the sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air. A dim, sterile light buzzed above as Lucy was wheeled into the recovery room. Her body was heavy from the anesthesia, her mind still fogged with pain, but her eyes—her eyes burned with something cold and calculating.

The surgery was done.

Her womb was gone.

Her ability to carry a child—gone.

Forever.

The nurse fussed gently with the IV in her arm, checking vitals, and offering a few soft words that Lucy didn’t even hear. The moment she was alone again, her hand moved weakly toward the side of the bed, grabbing her phone.

She sent a single message. "We need to talk. Now."

—

Rain tapped against the windows like tiny fingers. Lucy sat curled on a couch, pale and worn but dressed immaculately in a dark silk robe. Her face was a mask—blank, unreadable—but her eyes were alive with fury.

Across from her sat a figure in shadow. Only their voice broke the stillness.

"You went through with the surgery?"

She nodded once.

"And the womb?"

"Gone," Lucy whispered. "Just like that."

The figure leaned forward slightly. "Then it’s over. You can’t pull this off anymore."

Lucy’s lip twitched. A humorless smile.

"That’s where you’re wrong."

She rose to her feet, slowly, still recovering—but her spine was straight. Strong. Her fingers reached for the stolen sonogram now tucked inside her leather bag.

"I already planted the seed. Ethan thinks I’m pregnant. He just doesn’t know I can’t be."

The figure shifted uncomfortably. "How long can you keep that up?"

"Long enough."

There was silence. And then Lucy turned, eyes glinting.

"If I can’t carry Ethan’s baby, I will still raise his baby."

She walked slowly to the table and pulled out a small notebook. Inside were details. A plan.

"I’ve been thinking," she continued softly. "If I could have Mara’s baby as mine, then Ethan will be mine."

The figure finally spoke, low and tense. "Lucy... this is insane."

"No," she snapped. "This is survival. He’s not going to throw me away like trash. Not after everything I’ve done what better way to get back at Mara than to take her baby from her."

A deep breath.

"I’ll get his baby. One way or the other. And when I do... he’ll have no choice but to keep me around."

Outside the Apartment

The rain poured harder now, washing the streets clean of footprints and lies. But in the shadows of that quiet building, a dangerous scheme had just been born.

Lucy wasn’t done. Not even close.

–

The Shepherd dining room was filled with warm laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the comforting scent of roasted lamb and seasoned vegetables. It had been a while since the brothers were all under one roof—and even longer since Mara had smiled for more than ten seconds at a time, Rhina was back in town and was having dinner with the Shepherds.

But tonight, things felt lighter.

Rhina sat between Mara and Stanley, trying not to let her nerves show. Across the table were the three other Shepherd brothers—Steve, sharp and sarcastic; Stefan, gentle-eyed with a sly sense of humor; and Stanford, every bit the stoic banker, rarely smiling but always listening.

"So Rhina," Stefan leaned forward with a grin, "Stanley says you’re expecting. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Rhina said, brushing a hand over her small bump, her smile soft and genuine.

"Do you know the gender?" Mara asked, her eyes kind.

Rhina shook her head. "Not yet. I haven’t decided if I want to know before the birth."

Stanford spoke up, his tone cool but not unkind. "And you said you just moved to town?"

"Yes," Rhina replied. "I found a little apartment downtown. Cozy, but it’s enough for now."

Steve raised a brow. "By yourself?"

She nodded. "Just me and the baby."

Mara tilted her head slightly. "You don’t have family around?"

"Not really," Rhina said. She wasn’t lying—but it wasn’t the truth either.

Stanley watched her closely. He couldn’t forget that night a weeks ago when he called her. She’d answered flustered, and said it was someone who was at the wrong address.

He wanted to believe her.

But something in his gut twisted now, as he watched her laugh with his brothers like she belonged.

"Sounds like a lot to handle alone," Steve said, cutting into his steak.

Rhina smiled. "It is. But I like the quiet. And I’ve gotten good at managing things on my own."

Mara leaned over slightly, her voice low and sincere. "Well, you’re not alone anymore. We’re here, alright?"

Rhina blinked, surprised at the kindness in Mara’s tone. For a moment, she forgot about Philip. Forgot about the mission. Forgot the pressure building on her shoulders.

She just smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Stef. That... means more than you know."

Stanley’s jaw tightened slightly.

He wanted to trust her.

He wanted her to be exactly who she appeared to be—funny, thoughtful, strong.

But the voice still echoed in his mind.

—

The night after dinner with the Shepherds, Rhina lay curled on the worn leather couch in her apartment, a soft-knitted blanket pulled over her legs. The echo of laughter still rang in her ears—Mara’s kind words, Steve’s teasing remarks, the way Stefan had offered to build a crib "with or without instructions," and Stanford nodded with that subtle, rare approval of his.

For a second, it had felt like a family.

A real one.

Her fingers absentmindedly stroked her baby bump. She whispered softly, "They’re not what he said they were..."

The room was dim, only the flicker of a candle dancing across the shadows. Then—

Buzz.

Her phone lit up on the table. A message. From a hidden contact.

The screen displayed only one word:

"Basement."

Her breath caught.

She moved quickly, pulling on a hoodie and slipping on flats, exiting her apartment and heading to the small utility basement beneath the building.

The corridor was dark. The light above the rusted door flickered, casting long shadows. She entered and closed the door behind her.

The small tablet already sat on the crate in the corner, its screen glowing faint blue. She knew the drill. She tapped it once.

The screen came to life—video only.

Philip Shepherd appeared. Orange prison uniform. Eyes like a storm. Even pixelated, his voice was colder than the room.

"Nice dinner."

Rhina flinched.

He had eyes on her. Of course, he did.

"You looked comfortable. Cozy. Laughing with the people who ruined everything I built."

"I haven’t forgotten why I’m here," she said quietly, her tone laced with both guilt and fear.

"Then act like it."

"Stef’s opening up to you. Good. That makes her vulnerable. I want everything—her passwords, her call logs, her next move. You get me that, or I remind you what’s at stake."

Her fists clenched. "You said I’d be free if I did this."

"And you will be. Once they’ve paid."

She swallowed hard.

"Rhina," he said, softer now, more venomous. "You think Stanley will love you when he finds out who you really are? When he knows what you’ve done?"

Silence.

"You either finish this... or I make sure your name burns with theirs."

The screen went black.

She sat down on the cold crate, tears forming but refusing to fall.

She didn’t want to do this anymore. But she wasn’t free.

Not yet. And worse now, she wasn’t sure which side of her life was the lie.