Dawn slowly rose over Lyon, with a golden light sliding between the red rooftops of the Fourvière hill. Elise walked slowly through the small apartment in Croix-Rousse, with one hand resting on her round belly, almost ready for delivery. Each step required great effort, but still, tenderly, she whispered:

“Hold on a little longer, love… it won’t be long, we’ll finally meet.”

Marc, on the other hand, didn’t even glance at her.
Since the pregnancy started, the attentive man she once knew had turned into a complete stranger. Everything bothered him: the smell of food, her restless nights, her shallow breathing. He treated Elise as if motherhood had made her invisible.

One evening, while she carefully folded the baby’s clothes, he spoke in a dry voice:

“Next month, you’ll give birth at your parents’ house in Annecy. Everything is too expensive here. There, a midwife will take care of you for almost nothing. I’m not going to waste my money.”

Elise felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“But Marc… I’m nine months pregnant. The trip is long… I could give birth on the way…”

He shrugged indifferently.

“That’s your problem. At least there you’ll stop complaining.”

That night, Elise realized that the man she loved no longer existed.

Two days later, with a heavy heart, she boarded a TGV heading to Annecy with an old suitcase. Her mother awaited her at the station. Seeing her arrive so pale, Madame Fontaine gently embraced her.

“My love… you’re home. Let me take care of you.”

Meanwhile, in Lyon, Marc hurried to Chloe Morel’s house, his young assistant. She was also pregnant and had assured him the baby would be a boy. Marc felt almost victorious.

“Finally, an heir!” he proudly repeated.

He spared no expense: a private suite at a clinic, luxury services, over 8,000 euros already paid.

The day of the birth arrived with a huge bouquet of tulips. When the baby was born, he immediately sent a photo to all his contacts:

“My son! He looks just like me!”

But his joy was short-lived.

A nurse asked him to sign some documents. He confidently walked toward the neonatal area… until, in front of the door, he saw Madame Fontaine, arms crossed and a sharp gaze.

“Madame Fontaine? What are you doing here?” he stammered.

Calmly, she placed a box of baby formula on the table.

“I came to see my son-in-law. And the child you’re so proud of.”

“You’re mistaken… Chloe is just a friend…” he tried to explain.