Chapter 3

I didn't remember how I got home.

Once inside, I pulled out my suitcase and tossed my clothes into it, one piece at a time.

Rafe came after me soon afterward.

Without even taking off his coat, he rushed over and snatched the suitcase away.

“Liora!”

“Put the suitcase down. Let me finish.”

He took a deep breath.

“I went there today to end things. I'd already deleted her number, and I only said those things to calm her down. Nothing happened.”

Even now, he was still lying.

I looked at him and almost laughed.

“That sheer curtain doesn't hide anything. I was outside the window when you kissed her.”

His face went rigid.

The keypad lock beeped at the front door.

Sylvie pushed it open and walked in.

Watching her close the door with practiced ease, I let out an angry laugh.

“You even know the code. Clearly, you know your way around this place, too.”

“Do you sleep in my bed when I'm not here?”

Sylvie came straight over, ignoring Rafe's warning look.

“I'm pregnant. Almost eight weeks.”

Rafe spun around.

“What did you say?”

His voice dropped.

“But we used… Every time. How could you…”

He stopped mid-sentence and looked nervously at me.

It was as if I hadn't heard him.

Eight weeks.

Counting back from how far along she was, I realized she'd conceived while I was lying in a hospital bed after the car accident.

That accident had cost me my baby and any chance of ever having another.

I still remembered the day Rafe found out I was pregnant. He'd been so happy he hadn't slept all night.

He wouldn't let me carry grocery bags. He even helped me up and down the stairs.

When I lost the baby, he'd held my hand and cried so hard he couldn't speak.

Over and over, he'd said it was his fault for not taking care of me.

Now I laughed out loud.

So he'd cried at my hospital bedside during the day, then slept with another woman at night.

When Sylvie saw my eyes redden, she only looked more pleased with herself.

“You can't have children anymore. Is he supposed to give up being a father for the rest of his life?”

“You get to call yourself his wife, but I'm the one giving him his first child.”

I drew a breath, forcing down the pain in my chest.

“You think carrying his baby means he'll marry you?”

“Then keep having them. Maybe by the tenth, he'll finally decide you're worth marrying.”

“You—!”

Her face flushed red, and she raised her hand to slap me.

“Enough.”

Rafe caught her wrist and moved in front of her.

But his other hand instinctively shielded her belly.

I saw it clearly.

The last of the warmth I felt for him was gone.

While we stood at an impasse, the doorbell rang again.

This time, it was Rafe's parents.

The moment they came in, they went to Sylvie's side.

His mother even spread her arms, shielding Sylvie behind her.

“She's carrying my grandchild. Nobody lays a hand on her.”

She stared at me as though I were the one who'd intruded on someone else's marriage.

I clenched my hands. My nails dug into my palms, but I didn't feel a thing.

They'd known about this woman all along.

They'd already accepted her as family.

I was the only one they'd kept in the dark.

Rafe loosened his tie in frustration.

“Go home. It's enough of a mess here already.”

His mother gave a cold laugh.

“Sylvie's given us a chance to be grandparents. You should be grateful.”

She glanced at me with disgust.

“You'd give up your own child for Liora?”

“I've already accepted you staying married to her. What more do you expect us to give up?”

Every word felt like another slap across my face.

To her, I'd become a burden who couldn't even give her son a child.

Sylvie turned to her, her voice suddenly soft.

“Mrs. Ashcroft, thank God you're here.”

She patted Sylvie's hand.

“I've got you.”

Rafe was silent for a long time.

“Mom, once the baby's born, I want to raise the child with Liora.”

“My family is here. Liora's the one I want to raise a child with.”

Sylvie's head snapped toward him.

“Are you out of your mind? You want me to hand my own child over to her?”

I lowered my head with a bitter smile.

Was he still waiting for me to thank him?

Thank him for arranging a child for me, and even deciding how I should go on being his wife?

All I felt was disgust.

And I knew, without a doubt, that we had no future together.