After My Husband Abandoned Me, I Became a Billionaire

The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was my only companion in the sterile hospital room. I stared at the ceiling, counting the tiny holes in each tile as I had for the past eighteen hours. My hand rested protectively over my now-empty womb, the other clutching the grainy ultrasound photo—the only proof I had that my baby had ever existed at all.

Three days ago, I'd been planning a nursery. Now, I was recovering from a D&C procedure, my body as hollow as my heart. Northwestern Memorial Hospital's maternity ward was cruelly ironic—a place meant for new life had become my sanctuary of grief.

"Mrs. Walsh?" A nurse with kind eyes poked her head in. "Can I get you anything for the pain?"

Physical pain I could handle. It was the other kind that was unbearable.

"No, thank you. My husband should be here soon," I whispered, the same thing I'd been saying for hours.

When my phone finally buzzed, I lunged for it despite the sharp pain that shot through my abdomen.

"Ryan?" My voice cracked with relief.

"Hey, Izzy." His voice sounded distant, street noise in the background. "Sorry I couldn't come earlier. The investors meeting ran long."

"It's okay," I lied, blinking back tears. "Are you on your way now?"

"Yeah, about that..." A pause that told me everything. "Jenkins wants to discuss the pitch over dinner. I might be a little late."

"Oh." The word fell from my lips like a stone. "I understand."

"You're doing okay though, right? The doctors said it was routine."

Routine. As if losing our child was as ordinary as getting a tooth filled.

"They said I could be discharged tomorrow if someone's here to take me home," I managed.

"Great, I'll be there." His voice brightened with what sounded like relief. "Look, I gotta go. Love you."

The call ended before I could respond.

Two hours later, Ryan finally appeared in my doorway. His cologne reached me before he did—the expensive one I'd given him for Christmas. He'd changed into a fresh shirt since morning.

"Hey, you." He leaned down to kiss my forehead, not quite meeting my eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I lost our baby," I said quietly.

He shifted uncomfortably. "The doctor said these things happen. We can try again when you're better."

I turned the ultrasound photo toward him. "Do you want to see?"

Ryan glanced at it, then away quickly. "I should probably get some coffee. It's been a long day."

"Ryan, please stay. Just for a little while."

He checked his watch. "I'll be right back, I promise. Twenty minutes, tops."

Before I could protest, he was gone again.

With nothing else to do, I forced myself out of bed. The nurses had encouraged short walks to prevent blood clots. Clutching the IV pole for support, I shuffled toward the door, determined to find the cafeteria and my husband.

I made it to the elevator when I heard familiar voices from the