Chapter 2

The voices inside the exam room continued, but a thick haze had settled over my mind. I could not process a single word. I turned and walked out of the hospital in a daze, completely numb to the cold rain soaking through my dress. By the time I reached our house, my clothes were dripping wet and my skin was like ice.

Tristan heard the door open and rushed out. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his voice thick with panic. "Baby, where did you go? I tore the hospital apart looking for you. I checked the security footage and saw you walk out." He pulled back slightly to look at me. "I called you a hundred times, and you didn't answer. I was sick with worry."

In the past, I would have melted into his arms. I would have hugged him back and whispered that I was fine. I would have felt safe, believing he was the only person in the world I could truly count on. Now, every word made my skin crawl. A dull, throbbing ache built in my chest.

I stared at the genuine-looking concern in his eyes. Pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth, I forced down the burning acid in my throat. "I suddenly had a craving for those Ashcroft cinnamon rolls," I lied. "I walked to get them and forgot you were at the hospital."

Tristan froze for a split second. Then he smiled and pinched my nose fondly. The tension drained from his shoulders as if he had just dodged a bullet. "You silly thing. They say pregnancy makes you forgetful, but you are forgetting me before the baby even gets here? All for a sweet roll?"

I forced a stiff smile. The thing I feared most was true. He had only ever pretended to love me. My excuse was full of holes, yet he believed it without a second thought. He could not even be bothered to pay enough attention to see through the lie.

Ever since Julian had abandoned me at that Ashcroft chapel two years ago, I had never set foot in the town again. I had also told Tristan countless times that I hated those cinnamon rolls. They were the ones we had picked out for the wedding reception—the ones I never got to eat, which now tasted only of humiliation and heartbreak. He knew all of that. But now, it was obvious he never cared enough to remember.

Two years of doting had all been an act. Just like right now.

Tristan ran a hot bath for me. He lifted me gently into the tub and wiped the rain from my skin with a soft cloth, his movements slow and tender. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to my slightly rounded stomach. His voice was warm with fabricated adoration. "You got caught in the rain, baby. This hot bath will warm you up. I can't have my girls getting sick, right?"

Once, I thought every little thing he did was out of love for me. Now I saw the truth. He only cared about the baby inside me—the child he planned to take from my arms and give to Vivienne.

I stared at the reverent look in his eyes and spoke softly, keeping my tone casual. "Tristan, do you want a boy or a girl?"

He did not hesitate for a second. His face lit up with excitement, taking on a dreamy expression that made my blood run cold. "A girl. I have already picked out a name. Vivienne."

I froze. It was the last thing I expected, yet exactly what I should have seen coming. Every muscle in my body seized. A bitter, burning rage flooded my chest until I could barely breathe.

Vivienne.

He named the baby he planned to steal from me after the woman he had loved all along? He wanted to take my child and give her a name that broadcasted his undying devotion to someone else? Tristan Sterling, you really had to drive the knife straight through my heart and twist it, didn't you?

Thick steam filled the bathroom. I dropped my gaze so he would not see the tears streaming down my face. "Why that name? Does it mean something special?"

My question made his hand pause mid-movement as he washed my hair. But he recovered quickly, laughing it off as if it were nothing. "No special meaning. I just hope she grows up bright and beautiful, like a flower in bloom."

The last flicker of hope in my chest died. This man would never tell me the truth. Not even a fraction of it.