Divorce Him, Inherit The World

"I did everything I could."

The surgery had lasted thirteen hours. In the end, it failed. The baby Elara Everett had carried for six months wasn't saved.

As the words left Genevieve Beaumont's lips, anguished cries erupted from the family waiting outside the operating room.

The matriarch of the Everett family, Eleanor Everett, shrieked, "My great-grandchild!" before collapsing.

Elara's gurney was wheeled out, and the family immediately swarmed it. A chorus of dramatic sobs and hushed reassurances filled the air, and the sounds washed over Genevieve.

A cold hollowness spread through her chest.

She looked up to see Julian Everett leaning over the gurney, his fingers gripping the rail, his face etched with a concern that belonged more to a husband than a family member.

The crowd followed Elara's gurney into her private room.

Genevieve was left standing alone, still clutching her surgical mask, her body drained from the long operation. People bustled past her, their focus entirely on Elara. No one spared her a glance, let alone asked if she was tired.

Exhausted, Genevieve returned to the Everett mansion, where the house staff regarded her with cold stares, shrinking back as if she carried a plague.

Julian's younger sister, Ivy Everett, snatched a broom from Arthur Finch and swept it viciously against Genevieve's calves. "Get away from me, murderer! You're nothing but bad luck!"

The rough bristles scratched her skin, drawing a thin line of blood. Genevieve winced, a soft sound of pain escaping her lips.

Ivy let out a scornful laugh.

"Does that hurt? Don't act so special. The only reason you're even in this house is because of Elara's poor health and your medical skills—plus that rare Rh-negative blood type of yours. You're not family. You're a tool, a walking blood bag. Now that you've killed Elara's baby, I can't wait to see how you explain this to my brother!"

With that, Ivy spat at her feet.

In the three years since she'd married into the Everett family, Genevieve had learned her place. She was useful when needed and despised the rest of the time.

Everyone here treated her with either cold disdain or open sarcasm.

She had neither the energy nor the standing to argue. All she could do was carefully make her way upstairs.

The thirteen-hour surgery had taken its toll. Elara had hemorrhaged badly, forcing Genevieve to donate her own blood mid-operation. Now, a low-grade fever left her mind hazy and disoriented.

She had barely closed her eyes

when a brutal force yanked her from the bed.

She was thrown against the headboard, her head striking the wood with a sickening thud.

Wincing, Genevieve forced her eyes open. When she saw who it was, they stung with tears. "Julian, you're back. Elara's baby... I did everything I could."

Looming over her, Julian grabbed the collar of her shirt, his gaze like ice. "Everything? Days ago, you told me her check-up was perfect. That every indicator was excellent. Now, the baby is gone. And you have the nerve to tell me you did everything?"

Genevieve bit her lip, lifting her head to meet his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "Julian, I did everything I could."

It wasn't her fault. Elara had a congenital heart condition. Three years ago, when Genevieve married Julian, Elara could barely walk a few steps without gasping for air.

For three years, she had worked day and night, using integrative therapies to nurse Elara back to health. And she had succeeded. Elara had become strong, stable, even capable of moderate physical activity.

Her condition had been stable for years, with only one scare early in her marriage to Marcus Everett.

Just days ago, the routine check-up had shown perfect results. Every vital sign was excellent. Then, without warning, everything had taken a drastic turn for the worse.

Genevieve had taken a single day off when Elara was struck with unbearable abdominal pain. By the time she had rushed to the hospital, the fetus had already lost all vital signs.

Even then, she had fought, pouring everything she had into the surgery, even her own blood.

Her conscience was clear.

But her justifications did nothing to thaw the ice in Julian's expression.

A cold, humorless laugh escaped him. "Is that so? Then tell me— why did Elara wake up crying that you gave her the wrong medication?"

Genevieve's brow furrowed. "What? That's impossible."

Julian's grip tightened, yanking her forward until his face was inches from hers, his expression twisted with disgust. "Tell that to Elara!"

Julian clearly didn't want to hear another word from Genevieve.

Elara's health had always been fragile; the pregnancy itself had been a huge risk.

Now, with the baby lost and her body so damaged, she would likely never conceive again.

To him, this child had been his cousin Marcus and Elara's one dream. And in his eyes, Genevieve had just brutally crushed it.

Eleanor had already fainted several times in her fury. Her last command before he left the hospital had been for Julian to drag Genevieve back.

The moment she entered the hospital room, the Everetts encircled her.

Someone—she didn't see who—shoved her hard from behind.

Weak from the fever, Genevieve couldn't keep her balance. She crashed to her knees right in front of Elara's bed.

She tried to push herself up, only to be kicked from behind again. A surge of fury and disbelief shot through her. She whipped her head around—and found herself staring up into Julian's chillingly indifferent eyes.

She froze.

"Julian... you..."

He stood over her, a tall, lean silhouette against the harsh sunlight. The light should have softened him, but it only seemed to deepen the shadows on his face, amplifying the cold menace radiating from him.

His lips were pressed into a thin, hard line. He stared down at her with complete revulsion, his gaze so flat and empty it was as if he were looking at an object, not a person.

In that moment, Genevieve understood.

Three years. Three years of dedicating herself to Elara's health, hoping her sacrifice might finally move Julian's heart. It had all been a complete joke.

"Murderer!" Helen Chandler, Elara's mother, shrieked from her seat beside the bed. "A vicious woman like you should pay with your life for what you did to my daughter!"

She punctuated the accusation by hurling her teacup to the floor. Shards of porcelain flew, one of them slicing the back of Genevieve's hand.

And there was Elara, sobbing in her mother's arms, her cries so wrenching she looked as if she might faint from grief.

But Genevieve saw it.

For just a second, as Elara hid her face against her mother's shoulder, her eyes met Genevieve's. They glinted with malicious triumph, and a cruel, venomous smile touched her lips before disappearing.

"Julian, I did everything I could," Genevieve pleaded, her voice cracking. "I don't know why the fetal heartbeat stopped. Just give me some time. I'll investigate this and find the truth." She struggled unsteadily to her feet, bracing her hands on her knees, desperately trying to reason with them.

But

her words were drowned out by Elara's renewed wails. Covering her face, her shoulders shaking with unbearable agony, she began to sob out her accusations.

"Oh, Genevieve... how can you say that?

That was my child. My only child. Do you really think I would do anything to harm my own baby?

It was you... you gave me that herbal medicine. I told you it was bitter, I begged you not to make me drink it, but you said..."

Elara dabbed at her eyes, casting a wounded look toward Eleanor, her lip trembling as if she were enduring unspeakable pain.

Eleanor slammed her hand on the table. "What else did Genevieve say?"

Elara's voice trembled pitifully. "Genevieve also said that if I didn't obey her, she would make me miscarry."

Elara looked up, a single, perfect tear tracing a path down her cheek. "But I did as you told me, Genevieve. I drank it. Why... why would you still do this?

You could have hurt me and done anything to me. But why my baby?

I know you resent how much Julian cares for me. We've been childhood sweethearts since we were little; some bonds can't be broken. Surely you understand that."

Elara cried her heart out, all while Genevieve watched her steal glances at Eleanor, gauging her reaction.

She saw Eleanor's fury reach its peak, her knuckles white as she gripped her cane.

Seeing this, Elara seemed satisfied. She lowered her gaze, and Genevieve caught the faint, cruel smirk that crossed her lips before she feigned a complete collapse, swooning dramatically into her mother's arms.

The heavy cane slammed down onto Genevieve's back.

Genevieve had no time to dodge. The blow landed with full force, sending her lurching forward.

No one moved to help her. They just watched coldly as her forehead crashed against the sharp edge of an armchair. The impact split her skin, and blood streamed down her face. Genevieve pressed a hand to the gash.

Warm, sticky blood blurred her vision.

"From this day forward, you will resign from the hospital and dedicate your life to caring for Elara," Eleanor declared, her voice ringing with authority. "You will ensure nothing ever goes wrong with her again. You will spend the rest of your life atoning for this!"

The words hit her like another blow. A fresh wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Impossible!" Genevieve pressed her hand harder against the wound, her voice resolute despite the pain. "I've trained in medicine since I was a child. I will not give up my career for anyone. I did everything I could for Elara's baby. This tragedy had nothing to do with me. I never gave her any medication that wasn't safe!"

"Insolent fool!" Eleanor's cane came down again, this time striking Genevieve's shoulder. "Julian! Look at this woman you married!

Defying her elders, harming her own family... What a vicious woman you've brought into our home!"

Genevieve wanted to scream that she had done nothing wrong. But before she could open her mouth, Julian's ice-cold voice cut through the room from behind her. "Either you resign and spend the rest of your life caring for Elara... or we get a divorce."