PART 8 - "Secrets, Showers, and Sabotage"
Eight months in.
My bump led the way now - round, proud, wrapped in all the power a woman can carry. I didn't waddle. I glided.
My heels were lower, my breath shorter, but my presence?
Unmatched.
And today?
Today was the baby shower of the decade.
We didn't do pastel balloons or paper plates. No ma'am.
We rented out a luxury rooftop ballroom with floor-to-ceiling windows, rose quartz velvet sofas, champagne towers (for everyone but me), harpists playing Beyoncé instrumentals, and a three-tier cake carved like a golden bassinet.
This wasn't just about the baby.
It was a royal ceremony.
A reminder:
The queen stayed winning.
The king stayed loyal.
And their heir was on the way.
Scene: The Entrance
I arrived in a custom blush gown that floated like a dream, hand-stitched with pearls across the shoulders and a dramatic split that showed off my toned thigh and pregnancy glow like a flex. Diamond studs in my ears. Face beat with a bronzed goddess finish.
Devon stood beside me in a soft rose silk button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbow, chest out, fresh cut, and smelling like melted sin. His hand cradled my lower back.
Flashes popped. Guests gasped.
"Y'all look like a Vogue maternity spread," someone whispered.
I smiled. But deep down?
Something was off.
Enter: Trouble.
Again.
It started with a weird gift.
A matte black envelope. No tag. No bow.
Just placed in the middle of the gift table like a trap.
Inside? A single sheet of paper.
No signature.
No threats.
Just this:
"Ask him about Geneva."
I froze. Blinked. Read it again.
Then calmly folded it, slid it into my clutch, and turned toward the main floor with a smile as the DJ shifted into "Love on Top."
But my mind?
Spinning.
Scene: Private Balcony - After the Party
The skyline glowed behind us. The room buzzed inside with laughter and champagne, but out here it was just us - Devon and me.
I leaned against the glass rail, clutched my baby bump gently.
"Who is Geneva?"
His entire body tensed.
I didn't flinch. "Don't lie. Don't stall. Just say her name again if you want to keep this peace."
He swallowed hard.
"Geneva was... my wife."
Silence.
Then thunder.
Flashback: Before Me. Before Us.
He'd been married briefly at 23.
Young love. Quick wedding. Quick divorce.
Geneva had walked out after a year when Devon lost a major investment and hit rock bottom. She left with no warning, no contact - just gone.
He never talked about her.
Because she hurt him.
"Why now?" I asked.
He looked me dead in the eye. "Because she knows I've moved on. That I'm building something real."
My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"She left you.
I stayed through the drama, the rumors, the HR investigations, the jealous bitches, the flying fists.
She left.
I built.
So why is her name still haunting me at my shower?"
He stepped closer, wrapped his hands around my belly.
"She can't take what's already ours. Let her try. I'll bury the past for good."
Scene: Three Days Later - Office Drama Returns
Geneva shows up.
At the office.
Dressed in a tailored beige trench coat, red lipstick, and vintage revenge energy.
She walks straight to HR.
No hello. No warning.
Says she has "information" about Devon's company dealings from before their split. Claims he embezzled money, funneled funds into offshore accounts, and that she kept records.
Blackmail?
Jealousy?
Desperation?
All three.
Scene: HR Conference Room - Emergency Meeting
Carl looked like he was melting. Sweat forming like he was caught in the middle of a storm he couldn't contain.
Devon sat stiff. Silent.
I walked in uninvited, belly leading, heels stabbing the floor like battle drums.
"If she has proof," I said, tossing a folder on the table, "then explain why I already ran a forensic audit of the past five years."
Carl blinked.
"You what?"
"I'm not just a pretty face," I said calmly. "I manage my man's money now. All of it. And everything checks out."
Geneva turned pale.
"She's bluffing - "
I pulled out another paper.
"Also, per California law? You had a year after your divorce to file financial claims. You didn't. Time's up, baby girl."
Scene: Geneva escorted out.
Carl apologized. Again.
Devon took my hand, kissed it.
"I should've told you."
I nodded. "Yes. You should have. But I'll forgive you… if you rub my feet tonight."