Chapter 1 Infertile Mrs Foster

• Narrator
• Inside a private hospital suite, the air was thick with tension.
• George Foster, a tall, strikingly handsome billionaire with golden-blond hair, sat across from Dr. Smith, a plump, middle-aged woman who had been his family doctor for years.
• His sharp blue eyes scanned her as he spoke.
• "Doctor Smith, I want you to tell my wife she's infertile," he murmured, his tone leaving no room for argument.
• Dr. Smith stiffened, her fingers gripping the edges of her clipboard. "Mr. Foster... I—"
• "Just do as I say," he cut her off, his voice sharper now. Reaching into his suit pocket, he pulled out a thick wad of cash and tossed it onto the desk in front of her. "Make the fake reports. She'll be here in some minutes. I don't care what it takes—just make sure she believes she can never conceive."
• Dr. Smith stared at the money, her heart pounding. It was more than she had ever seen in one go. Morally, she knew this was wrong—she had known Serena for years. Lying to her like this was beyond cruel. But money had a way of silencing doubt, and she needed it.
• George stood, straightening his cufflinks. "Do your best," he said coolly. "Make sure she never questions it." And with that, he strode out of the room.
• As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Dr. Smith grabbed the cash, stuffing it into her coat pocket. She barely had a second to collect herself before the door swung open again.
• Serena Foster stepped inside. Mid-height, effortlessly elegant, with long chestnut-brown hair falling over her shoulders.
• "Dr. Smith, you wanted to see me?" Serena asked, softly.
• The doctor swallowed, her fingers tightening around the clipboard. Her heart clenched, but the money in her pocket felt heavier.
• "Yes, Serena. Please, have a seat. There's... something we need to discuss."
• Serena sat innocently, completely unaware of what was coming.
• Dr. Smith sighed, adjusting her glasses as she reached for the paper. She hesitated for a split second—just long enough for her fingers to tighten around the edges—before sliding it across the desk.
• "Here," she said, her voice unnaturally calm. "These are your results."
• Serena frowned, taking the paper without a second thought. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped lightly against the edges as she skimmed the words. The medical jargon blurred together, but then—
• "I'm sorry, Mrs. Foster," Dr. Smith said, quietly. "You can never conceive."
• The room went still for a bit.
• Serena blinked, the words hitting her like a slap. She looked up, confusion flickering in her deep brown eyes. "What?"
• Dr. Smith folded her hands on the desk, her expression distorted. "You're infertile."
• Serena let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The paper in her hands suddenly felt heavier. Her chest tightened, her mind racing. No. That couldn’t be right. That wasn’t possible.
• She swallowed hard, forcing out the only word she could manage.
• "How?"
• Dr. Smith exhaled quietly, glancing at the report one last time before meeting Serena’s gaze. "We ran multiple tests on you and Mr. Foster," she said gently. "The results are clear. You’ve been the problem.
• Serena's grip tightened around the paper as her world tilted.
• "The problem?" she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
• Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away, her mind spiraling back to the early years of her marriage though George wasn't romantic compared to other men.
• She had always wanted a child. In the beginning, George had seemed just as eager. They had tried and hoped together. But as the months turned into years with no pregnancy, everything changed.
• George grew distant and cold. His warm kisses became brief pecks, his once affectionate words were replaced by silence or dismissive nods. The late-night talks they used to have in bed disappeared, replaced by him turning his back to her without a word.
• At first, she blamed herself. Maybe she wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe she wasn’t enough.
• And George never reassured her otherwise.
• Instead, he buried himself in work, stayed out later, stopped looking at her the way he once did. When their friends and family started asking questions about why they had no children, his responses were nothing but sharp and indifferent.
• "Serena just needs to be patient."
• "We’re focusing on other things."
• "It’s not a priority right now."
• But it was a priority to her.
• She remembered the nights she cried herself to sleep, wondering if he regretted marrying her. If he wished he had chosen someone else—someone who could give him a child.
• And all this time… it had never been her fault.
• Her throat tightened as she looked back at Dr. Smith. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice trembling.
• The doctor hesitated. "I triple-checked the results. There’s no mistake."
• Serena swallowed hard, her heart pounding.
• All these years, the coldness, the distance, the way George stopped touching her—was it because he already knew?
• Serena stood up, her hands trembling as she clutched the medical report. Deep down, she already knew what was coming next.
• A cold divorce from her already distant husband.
• And his mother?
• She had wanted them divorced from the moment Serena failed to conceive. "George needs a real wife," she had said more than once, not even bothering to hide the disdain in her voice. "A woman who can give him children. A woman who can continue the Foster bloodline."
• Serena had endured it all—every insult disguised as advice, every pitiful look from their family gatherings, every moment George's mother spoke about grandchildren as if she wasn’t standing right there.
• She swallowed hard, her vision blurring as she looked down at the report.
• All these years. All the pain. All the sleepless nights of wondering why she wasn’t enough.
• And now, the truth was right in her hands.
• Her marriage was over. She could feel it in her bones.