Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 178

Chapter 178

Chapter 178

The discharge papers felt heavy in Margaret’s hand as she signed her name at the bottom. The nurse handed her a folder full of instructions about physical recovery, about signs to watch for, about follow-up appointments she probably wouldn’t keep.

“Take care of yourself, Mrs. Hart.” The nurse’s smile came practiced and professional. “And I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Margaret didn’t respond. What was there to say? Thank you for your sympathy? It doesn’t help? My baby is still dead no matter how sorry you are?

She walked out of the hospital into the afternoon sun. The brightness hurt her eyes after days in that dim room with the curtains drawn. Everything seemed too loud, too bright, too alive. The world kept moving forward while she was stuck in that moment on the marble floor, watching blood spread beneath her.

Marco was waiting by his car in the pickup area. Margaret stopped when she saw him. He looked like a total mess. His shirt wrinkled and stained. Hair uncombed. Eyes bloodshot and hollow like he hadn’t slept in days. A dark bruise colored his jaw and his lip was split, crusted with dried blood.

He’d been in a fight. She could see that much. But she didn’t ask who with. Didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the emptiness inside her.

Marco opened the passenger door without a word. Margaret climbed in and stared straight ahead as he got behind the wheel. They drove in complete silence. No music. No conversation. Just the sound of the engine and the occasional turn signal clicking.

The drive home passed in a blur. Stop signs. Traffic lights. Other cars full of other people living their normal lives. Margaret saw none of it. Her mind was elsewhere. In a hospital bed. On a marble floor. In a future that would never exist now.

The house looked different when Marco pulled into the driveway. Smaller somehow. Emptier. Like it knew what had been lost inside its walls.

This house. The house where Marco had lived with Lucia. Where his children had grown up. Where Margaret had moved in thinking she could replace what he’d lost. The same rooms where Lucia had once cooked dinner and helped with homework and been the wife Marco threw away.

Family. The word tasted bitter now.

Marco turned off the engine but didn’t move. His hands stayed on the wheel, staring at the house like he didn’t want to go inside either. Margaret didn’t wait for him. She opened her door and got out, walking toward the house without looking back.

She heard his car door slam behind her but didn’t turn around. She just kept walking. Up the front steps. Through the door he unlocked for her. Into the hallway where the air smelled stale and sad.

“Margaret, wait.” Marco’s voice came from behind her. Rough. Broken.

She didn’t stop. Didn’t turn around. Just kept walking toward the stairs.

“We need to talk about this. We need to…”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Her voice came out flat. Dead. “I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to be near you.”

“Margaret, please…”

“Leave me alone, Marco.”

She climbed the stairs, her hand trailing along the banister. Each step felt like walking through water. Heavy. Exhausting. Behind her, she could hear Marco standing at the bottom of the stairs. But he didn’t follow. He just let her go.

At the top of the stairs, she turned left. Past the master bedroom where she couldn’t bring herself to sleep. Past the guest room. Past the bathroom where she’d first seen the blood.

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Chapter 178

She stopped in front of the last door on the right.

The nursery.

Her hand shook as she reached for the doorknob. For a moment, she almost turned away. Almost walked back downstairs and out of the house. But she needed to see it. Needed to confront what she’d lost.

Margaret pushed the door open.

The room was exactly as she’d left it. Soft yellow walls because she hadn’t wanted to know if it was a boy or girl. White furniture she’d spent weeks choosing. A crib with a mobile hanging above it, little animals that would spin and play music. A changing table stocked with diapers and wipes. A rocking chair by the window where she’d planned to sit and feed her baby while looking out at the garden.

Clothes hung in the tiny closet. Newborn sizes. Little onesies with ducks and bears. Tiny socks that would have fit on her thumb. A going-home outfit she’d bought in both pink and blue because she wanted to be ready either way.

Shelves lined one wall, already filled with toys. Stuffed animals. Board books. A music box that played lullabies. Everything a baby could need.

Everything except the baby.

Margaret’s legs gave out. She sank to the floor in the middle of the nursery, surrounded by all the things she’d bought for a child who would never use them. The tears came fast and hard, ripping out of her chest like they were tearing her apart from the inside.

She grabbed a stuffed rabbit from the nearby basket and held it against her chest, rocking back and forth. The rabbit was soft and new, still had the tag attached. It smelled like the store. Not like a baby. It would never smell like her baby.

“I had everything ready.” Her voice came out broken, talking to the empty room. “I was going to be such a good mother. I was going to do everything right.”

But there was no one to hear her. No baby to comfort. No future to look forward to.

Margaret’s eyes landed on the rocking chair. She could see herself so clearly in her mind. Sitting there with her baby in her arms. Singing softly. Watching those tiny fingers curl around hers. Breathing in that sweet newborn smell.

None of it would happen now.

She pushed herself up off the floor and walked to the crib. Her fingers traced the wooden railing. She’d spent so long picking out this crib. Making sure it was safe, that it had good reviews, that it would cradle her baby perfectly.

Now it would stay empty forever.

Margaret picked up one of the tiny onesies from the changing table. Yellow with little elephants on it. She held it up, seeing how small it was. How this would have fit her baby. How she would have dressed her child in this and thought they looked adorable.

The sobs came harder. She clutched the onesie to her face, breathing in the clean fabric smell. New. Unused. Waiting for a baby who would never come.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The words tore out of her throat raw and jagged. “We were supposed to be happy. We were supposed to have a family.”

But they weren’t happy. They’d never really been happy. From the beginning, their relationship had been built on lies and betrayal. On stolen moments and broken vows. On destroying someone else’s family to build their

own.

And now they had nothing.

Margaret threw the onesie across the room. It hit the wall and fell softly to the floor, so light it barely made a sound.

“It’s her fault.” The words came out quiet at first. Then louder. “It’s Lucia’s fault. All of it.”

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Chapter 178

The logic formed in Margaret’s mind, clear and simple and completely wrong but she believed it anyway. Lucia had taken Marco’s children. Lucia had turned them against their father. Lucia had destroyed Marco’s relationship with his kids and driven him to the breaking point.

If Lucia hadn’t done that, Marco wouldn’t have been so angry. They wouldn’t have been fighting. He wouldn’t have pushed her. The baby would still be alive.

“She stole them.” Margaret’s voice rose, echoing off the nursery walls. “She stole his children and turned them into weapons. She drove him crazy. She made him so desperate that he…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t admit that Marco had pushed her. That his hands had sent her falling. That his rage had killed their baby.

No. It was easier to blame Lucia. Safer to put all that anger onto someone else instead of facing the truth

about the man she’d chosen.

“She has everything.” Margaret walked to the window, looking out at the garden below. “She has Marco’s children. She has that mansion. She has Alexander and his money. She has her perfect little family back. And I have nothing.”

The unfairness of it burned in her chest like acid. Lucia got to be happy. Got to have her children and her new life and everything she wanted. While Margaret stood in an empty nursery mourning a baby who would never take a first breath.

“She should feel what I feel.” Margaret’s reflection stared back at her from the window glass. Her face looked hollow. Haunted. Like something had died inside her along with the baby. “She should know what it’s like to lose everything. To have her happiness ripped away.”

Margaret turned from the window and looked around the nursery again. All these things she’d bought with such hope. All these plans she’d made. All the dreams that had died on a marble floor.

“I gave up everything for Marco.” Her voice came steadier now. Colder. “I left my own marriage. I walked away from my friends who told me I was making a mistake. I fought for him. And what do I have to show for it?”

An empty nursery. A man who blamed her as much as she blamed him. A body that had failed to carry the one thing that might have made it all worthwhile.

Margaret’s hand moved to her flat stomach. The emptiness there felt like a wound that would never heal. Like someone had hollowed her out and left nothing but rage and grief behind.

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