Chapter 3
We stared at each other in the dim bedroom, both unsettled by the other’s uncharacteristic behavior.
“I didn’t mean to leave you, Damien said finally, his voice tight. “Scarlett was hurt–badly”
I thought of that microscopic scrape on her ankle and smiled.
Five years of marriage, and he’d never once visited my mother’s grave with me. Last year on the anniversary of her death, I’d waited at the cemetery until sunset. All I got was a text
“Scarlett’s cat needs neutering Rain check,”
When I’d spiked a 103–degree fever, his “have some honey water” was followed by immediate radio silence. Ten minutes later, Scarlett had posted a photo of a familiar cashmere scarf–my first gift to Damien with the caption:
“Being spoiled like a princess again–Maybe I shouldn’t go back to my castle and should just stay with my handsome knight.”
The pieces clicked together.
His reason for having Sebastian impersonate him during these “business trips” with Scarlett wasn’t about sparing my feelings–it was because I was an inconvenient pet that needed tending.
In his eyes, I’d never been more than a stray he’d pitied.
But no more.
“Mim,” I murmured, rolling back over.
The silence stretched. Then his hands gripped my shoulders, wrenching me onto my back. “Jullette,” he bit out, something frantic lacing his words, “1 promised to rub pregnancy all on you every night. Where is it?”
Caught off guard, I answered truthfully. “I didn’t buy any.”
up this act? Save
your tricks!”
He recoiled as if struck. “Fine. Play the martyr.” His laugh was razor–sharp. “How long will you keep up The door slammed with enough force to rattle the framed Degas print Classic Damien—every cold war between us began this way, only ending when I crawled to his study in tears.
1 laselt too often in the wreckage of our fights, pleading for mercy he never earned, Like a gardener tending poisoned soil, I told myself his cruelty was merely the frost of stress, his neglect the drought of ambition–that with enough patience, love might still bloom. But the harvest was only thorns. So I learned to hollow out my heart; emptiness, at least, cannot break. Ah, the lies we stitch to dress our despair.
Tonight, I didn’t budge.
How ironic. He’d spent years lecturing me about “emotional maturity” and “notuaking scones.” Now that I’d finally learned my lesson, it only infuriated
At dawn, the nutritionist bovered in the doorway, clutching a binder thick enough to be a murder weapon. “Madam, some of these supplement combinations shouldn’t be taken at the same time, the ingredients might have some bad effects on the pregnant…” She trailed off, gesturing to the living
Two mountains of gifts stood in stark contrast:
The left–meticulously labeled prenatal vitamins and organic teas
The right—achastic jumble including postpartum recovery tinctures and, inexplicably, a miniature racecar for at least a nine–year–old.
My breath caught. Memories surfaced of an unusually attentive “Damien last May, dragging to beaches and mountain trails when he noticed my grief over Mother’s death. “You’ll just get more upset in this house, only fresh air and sun light can help you cheer up, he’d said, feeding me lamb kebabs until | laughed despite myself.
A burst of laughter shattered the recollection
Scarlet clung to Damien’s and in the foyer, hosting a crowd of our old classmates like the lady of the ne–anticipating the usual meltdown
What happened in the room merely stirred my heart, I just turned toward the stairs
“Julle!” Her voice was syrup–sweet. “We came to celebrate the mom–to–bel
manor. Her smile turned genuine when she spotted
The room stiffened. Everyone remembered Darden’s very
ry public pursuit of Scarlett before “setting” for me. Their stares prickled with disdain
BookSnap
“Gold digging hick”
“Only married her because she trapped him.”
Damien’s jaw tightened, but Scarlett was already gliding forward. “Don’t be shy! Julie. We brought gifts!” She beckoned servants to dump an avalanche of packages at my feet-
