Divorce Over Secret Son

I smoothed my hands over the midnight blue gown, the silk cool against my fingertips as I studied my reflection in the mirror. Five months pregnant, the gentle swell of my belly was just becoming noticeable beneath the carefully tailored fabric. A new beginning. That's what this baby represented—proof that James and I had survived the storm of his affair three years ago.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous habit I'd never managed to break, and reviewed the talking points for tonight's charity gala. As one of Seattle General's leading cardiac surgeons, I was expected to mingle with potential donors, speak eloquently about our new pediatric wing, and represent the hospital with the same precision I brought to the operating room.

"You look beautiful," James said, appearing in the doorway of our downtown condo's master bedroom. His blue eyes lingered on my reflection, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

I returned his smile, though something fluttered uneasily in my chest. Three years of rebuilding trust was a long time, yet sometimes I still caught myself searching his face for signs of deception. The wound had scarred over, but it hadn't disappeared entirely.

"Ready to charm Seattle's elite?" I asked, reaching for my clutch.

James adjusted his bow tie. "As ready as I'll ever be. These things are always more your forte than mine."

His phone buzzed. Again. The third time in the past hour. He glanced at it, his expression shifting subtly before he silenced it and slipped it into his pocket.

"Hospital?" I asked, the question casual but deliberate.

"Just administrative stuff," he replied, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

* * *

The Four Seasons ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers and the jewelry of Seattle's wealthiest philanthropists. I moved through the crowd with practiced ease, shaking hands and accepting congratulations on both my recent surgical innovation and the visible evidence of our growing family.

"Dr. Morgan!" Sarah Jenkins, the cardiac unit's senior nurse, approached with a glass of sparkling water. "You're positively glowing tonight."

"Sarah, you're too kind," I said, accepting the drink gratefully. "How's your son doing at Stanford?"

As Sarah updated me on her son's medical school adventures, I scanned the room, my eyes automatically seeking James. He was across the ballroom, deep in conversation with the hospital board chairman. Then, just as he had twice already this evening, he checked his watch and discreetly slipped away toward the exit.

A knot formed in my stomach.

"Catherine? Are you alright?" Sarah's concerned voice pulled me back.

"Just a little tired," I said, forcing a smile. "Pregnancy and surgeon hours don't mix well."

"Dr. Morgan," came another familiar voice. David Chen, a brilliant lawyer who had become a friend over years of hospital legal consultations, approached with a warm smile. "The speech you gave about the pediatric cardiac program was inspiring. You've already convinced three major donors to open their checkbooks."

"That's wonderful news," I said, grateful for the