Pregnant and Abandoned: My Billionaire Ex Regretted Leaving When the Lawsuit Revealed the Truth

Julian Blackwood adjusted his silk tie as he took the witness stand. He moved with the grace of a man who believed the witness chair was just another throne. He didn't look at Dr. Thorne, who was currently being escorted out by bailiffs, weeping.

"Mr. Blackwood," his defense attorney began, voice soothing. "Were you aware of Dr. Thorne's... financial incentives?"

"Absolutely not," Julian lied, his voice a rich baritone that had charmed shareholders for a decade. He turned to the jury, offering a practiced, regretful smile. "I am a man of science and business. I trusted my team to follow the data. If I had known there was toxicity... I would have stopped production immediately."

He looked invincible. Teflon. The jury was nodding, swayed by the custom suit and the heartfelt performance.

Marcus Wolf stood up. He didn't approach the stand immediately. He leaned against the table, cleaning his glasses.

"Mr. Blackwood," Marcus said, his voice dangerously soft. "You claim you dissolved your marriage due to 'irreconcilable differences.' Not because of the diagnosis?"

Julian sighed, a sound of long-suffering patience. "Sarah was... emotional. Unstable. I couldn't run a Fortune 500 company while managing her hysteria. It was a tragedy, but necessary for the greater good."

Sarah didn't feature a flicker of emotion. She sat at the plaintiff’s table, wearing a simple gray blazer, her hands folded over a notebook. She stared directly into Julian’s eyes.

Julian met her gaze, intending to intimidate her as he had a thousand times before. But she didn't blink. She didn't look down.

Ten seconds passed. The silence in the courtroom stretched, heavy and suffocating. Julian’s confident smirk faltered. He shifted in his seat. He cleared his throat, looking away first, suddenly fascinated by the court stenographer’s typing.

"The witness seems nervous," Marcus noted dryly, stepping closer. "Is Mrs. Jenkins making you uncomfortable?"

"I'm merely bored by this witch hunt," Julian snapped, his facade cracking. "We all know what this is. A gold digger trying to cash in on a tragic genetic fluke."

"A genetic fluke," Marcus repeated. "So you maintain you cared for the unborn child? That you wanted a son?"

"More than anything," Julian said, his voice rising with feigned indignation. "I would have given anything for a healthy heir."

Marcus stopped pacing. He turned to the judge. "Your Honor, I'd like to introduce Exhibit G into evidence. An audio recording recovered from the Blackwood Penthouse intercom system, dated eight months ago."

Julian’s face went the color of old ash. He gripped the railing of the witness box, his knuckles white.

"Objection!" the defense attorney screamed, jumping up. "That recording is—"

"Admissible," the judge ruled, banging the gavel. "Play it."

The courtroom speakers crackled. Then, Julian’s voice, clear and cruel, filled the room alongside the sound of heavy rain.

"I don't care what the lawyers say. Cut her loose. No one cares about one deformed brat. If it can't be fixed, it gets flushed."

The audio cut out. The silence that followed was absolute.

Every juror turned to look at Julian. There was no charm left—only the naked, ugly face of a monster.

Marcus smiled, cold and sharp. "No further questions."