Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 152

Chapter 132-

Chapter 152

Margaret stood in the marble hathroom, staring down at the pregnancy test in her trembling hands. Two pink lines. Clear as daylight. Unmistakable.

She was pregnant.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, soft at first, then louder, echoing off the pristine white tiles. She pressed her free hand to her flat stomach, imagining the tiny life growing inside her.

“Finally.” The whisper came to her reflection in the mirror. “Finally, something is going right.”

She had been trying for three weeks, carefully timing everything, taking vitamins, eating perfectly. And now it had worked. She was carrying Marco’s baby. The child who would cement her place in his life forever.

Margaret set the test gently on the counter and reached for her phone. She took a picture of the positive result, her hands shaking with excitement. This was proof. This was her golden ticket to everything she had ever wanted.

She practically floated downstairs, her silk robe flowing behind her. The whole house seemed brighter, more beautiful. Soon it would be filled with the sound of a baby’s laughter. Their baby.

Marco was in his study, hunched over financial reports as usual. The past few weeks had aged him terribly. His hair was grayer, his face more lined, his shoulders permanently stooped with the weight of everything that had gone wrong.

But Margaret was about to change all of that. She was about to give him something wonderful, something to look forward to instead of backward.

She knocked gently on the door frame. “Marco? Honey?”

He looked up, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. “What is it, Margaret? I’m busy.”

“I have something to tell you. Something amazing.” She stepped into the room, practically vibrating with excitement.

Marco leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “If it’s about another shopping trip or dinner party, I can’t afford it right now. The company is…”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air between them like a bomb waiting to explode. Marco’s hand froze halfway to his face, and his mouth fell open slightly.

r

“What did you say?”

Margaret pulled out her phone and showed him the picture of the test. “I said I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby, Marco. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Marco stared at the phone screen for a long moment, his face completely blank. Margaret waited for the joy to hit him, for the smile to spread across his features, for him to jump up and spin her around the room.

Instead, he just sat there, looking like he had been hit by a truck.

“Marco?” Margaret’s smile faltered slightly. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you.” His voice was flat, emotionless.

“Aren’t you excited? We’re going to be parents together. We’re going to have our own little family”

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Chapter 152.

Marco’s mind was spinning, but not with joy. Images flashed through his head like a movie reel. Monica as a baby, so tiny and perfect in his arms, Ria taking her first steps toward him across their old living room. Lucas learning to ride a bike while Marco ran alongside him, holding the seat.

His children. His babies. The ones he had just thrown away like garbage.

“Marco, please say something.” Margaret’s plea came desperate.

“I need a minute.” The words came out quiet.

“A minute for what? This is good news. This is the best news we could possibly get.”

Marco looked up at her, this young, beautiful woman who was carrying his child. She looked radiant, glowing with happiness and triumph. But all he could see were three other faces. Ria’s hurt expression when he chose Margaret, Lucas’s bruised jaw, Monica’s tears when she realized he wasn’t coming to save her.

“How far along?” The question came mechanical.

“The doctor said about four weeks. I have an appointment next Tuesday to confirm everything.” Margaret knelt beside his chair, placing her hand on his arm. “Marco, this is our fresh start. This is what we talked about. Our own perfect family.”

But Marco wasn’t listening anymore. He was remembering Monica’s first word. Dada. He was remembering Ria’s dance recitals, where she would scan the audience until she found his face and wave. He was remembering Lucas’s soccer games, where his son would point to him every time he scored.

Those children were gone now. He had pushed them away, told his secretary he was done being their father. And now he was going to start over with a new child, as if the first three had never existed.

“We need to start thinking about names.” Margaret’s voice came bright with excitement. “And the nursery. We can turn the guest room into the most beautiful baby room. I already have so many ideas.”

Marco felt sick. The guest room where Lucas used to do his homework when he wanted quiet. The room where Ria used to practice her presentations for school. The room where Monica had built a fort out of blankets last Christmas.

“And we should probably look into private schools early.” Margaret continued, oblivious to his internal turmoil. “I want our child to have every advantage, every opportunity.”

Every advantage. Like the ones he had given his other children before he destroyed their family for the woman sitting next to him.

“Marco, are you listening to me?”

He looked at her again, this time really seeing her. She was thirty-two years old, excited about this pregnancy like it was a toy she’d been waiting for. She had no idea what it meant to be a parent, to love someone more than your own life, to watch them grow and change and become their own person.

She saw this pregnancy as a victory, a prize she had won. But parenthood wasn’t a game. It was a responsibility, a commitment, a promise to put someone else’s needs before your own for the rest of your life.

A promise he had already broken three times.

“I need some air” Marco stood up abruptly.

“Air? Marco, we need to celebrate! We need to make plans!”

“I just need a minute to process this.”

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Chapter 132-

Margaret’s face fell Process what? I thought you wanted this. You said you wanted to start over, to have children who would Hove you properly”

The words hit him like a slap. Children who would love him properly. As if his other children’s love hadn’t been enough. As if their hurt and anger after he destroyed their family was a character flaw instead of a natural response to betrayal.

“I did say that.” The admission came quiet.

“Then why aren’t you happy? This is everything we dreamed about.”,

Marco looked at her excited face, at the phone still clutched in her hand with the picture of their future, and felt overwhelmed by the weight of his choices.

“I need to go upstairs for a while.”

“Marco, wait…”

But he was already walking past her, heading for the door. He couldn’t breathe in that room anymore, couldn’t think with Margaret’s excited chatter filling his ears.

“Marco!” Margaret’s call followed him, but he didn’t stop.

He climbed the stairs slowly, his legs feeling like lead. At the top of the landing, he paused outside what used to be Monica’s room. The door was closed now, the room empty and sterile since she had left.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the space where his youngest daughter had lived for thirteen years. Margaret had already started redecorating, removing the colorful artwork and replacing it with neutral colors.

Marco sat down on the edge of the bed where he used to read Monica bedtime stories. Where he used to check for monsters under the bed and in the closet. Where he used to kiss her forehead and tell her she was his special girl.

Now he was going to have another child. Another chance to be a father. Another opportunity to either get it right or destroy another innocent life with his selfishness.

Downstairs, he could hear Margaret moving around, probably planning the nursery, maybe calling her friends to share the news. She was celebrating alone while he sat in his abandoned daughter’s room, drowning in regret.

His phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. For a wild moment, he hoped it might be one of his children calling to reconcile. But the caller ID showed Margaret’s mother’s number.

Marco let it go to voicemail. He wasn’t ready to pretend to be excited about this pregnancy. He wasn'[ready to play the role of the happy expectant father when all he could think about were the children he had already failed.

The house felt different now. Not like a home where a family lived, but like a tomb where love had died. Soon it would have new life, a new chance, a new beginning.

But Marco wasn’t sure he deserved another beginning. He wasn’t sure he had the right to try again when he had thrown away his first chance so completely.

He lay back on Monica’s old bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine himself holding a newborn baby again. Trying to picture himself changing diapers and singing lullabies and teaching first words.

But every image was clouded by the memory of three other children who no longer called him father.

And somewhere in the distance, he could hear Margaret’s laughter echoing through the empty house, celebrating their future while he mourned their past.

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Chapter 152-

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The irony was almost too much to bear. He was going to be a father again, but he had never felt less like a man worthy of

that title.

Marco closed his eyes and saw Monica’s face the day she was born. So small. So perfect. Looking up at him with complete

trust.

He’d betrayed that trust. Betrayed all of them.

And now he was supposed to start fresh. Pretend the first three didn’t matter. Build a new family on the ruins of the old one.

Margaret’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. Light. Quick. Excited.

“Marco?” Her voice came from the hallway. “Honey, I called my mom and she’s so happy for us! And I’ve been looking at cribs online and there are so many adorable options.”

Marco didn’t answer. He just lay there on his daughter’s bed, staring at the ceiling where glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck in the corners that Margaret had missed.

The door creaked open. Margaret stood in the doorway, her phone in one hand and a catalog in the other.

“Why are you in here?” Her nose wrinkled. “We need to clean this room out properly. Turn it into something useful.”

Something useful. Like their daughter hadn’t been useful. Like the memories in this room were garbage to be thrown out.

“Get out.” Marco’s voice came low, dangerous.

Margaret blinked. “What?”

“Get out of this room. Now,”

“Marco, I don’t understand why you’re being like this. We should be celebrating.”

He sat up and looked at her. Really looked at her. Saw the self-satisfaction in her eyes. The triumph. She’d won. She’d gotten pregnant. She’d secured her place.

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