chapter 2

I never wore perfume. The scent on him was clearly someone else's.

A wave of nausea rose in my throat, and before I could stop myself, I started to gag.

Charles's brows tightened with irritation, though he forced his tone to stay calm. "Libby, relax. Once the baby's born, I'll bring it here and have you raise it as ours. That way, we'll finally have a kid, won't we?"

I let out a bitter laugh.

How could anyone be that shameless?

He cheated on me, and now he wanted me to raise his first love's child.

Anger burned up from my chest.

I swallowed it down, staring coldly at him. "Your kid, your problem. What's that got to do with me?"

Charles's patience snapped. "What's that supposed to mean? Can't you be a little generous for once? It's just a kid! If you could have one yourself, I wouldn't need to raise Dallas's baby, would I? I even got you a gift, but clearly that was a waste!"

He threw the box in his hand straight at me.

It hit me right in the stomach.

A sharp ache bloomed low in my belly.

I clutched my abdomen, wincing.

For a second, he looked startled, but his expression quickly hardened again. "Oh, cut the act. You're not even pregnant. It's just a little tap. Don't pretend like you are."

I didn't answer. I just looked at the box on the floor, now flipped open.

The cheap necklace inside gleamed dully—fake and fragile, like the love I once thought was real.

Dallas had the same design, except hers was far more expensive. I remembered Charles giving it to her for her birthday.

Looking at mine now, I realized how much of a fool I'd been.

Straightening slowly despite the pain, I fixed my eyes on him.

"Charles, we're done."

He frowned. "What are you talking about? Didn't you always say you wanted a baby?"

Yeah, I'd always wanted a child.

Because he was obsessed with the idea of having one, and I felt guilty for not giving him that.

But that didn't mean I was willing to raise someone else's child.

He didn't believe I meant it. He pulled me close, trying to hush my anger with forced tenderness.

I shoved him off, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a bag.

I picked it up. The handle was torn, and the little teddy charm had come off.

He noticed my stare.

"Dallas saw it the last time she came over. She just wanted to take a look and accidentally broke it. Don't make a fuss. I'll buy you a new one."

I froze, staring at the worn leather bag.

"It's not like that thing's worth anything," he continued. "That design's ancient. You've treated it like some treasure for years. Just throw it out already."

But that bag was the only thing my mom left me.

I'd always kept it safely tucked in my closet. How could Dallas have just seen it?

Looking at its torn handle, my throat tightened, and I could hardly breathe.

Then came a knock at the door.

I glanced outside. Dawn had barely broken.

Charles went to open it. Moments later, he returned with Dallas and a group of her friends trailing behind.

"Libby," he said, as if nothing were wrong. "These are Dallas's friends. They just got back from overseas and need a place to stay for a while. Her apartment's too small, so they'll stay here. The house is big enough for everyone."

It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order.

But this was my house.

Charles had come from nothing. I was the one with money. When we got married, I hadn't asked for a cent. I'd even given him a small fortune.

I truly believed we'd last forever. That love meant not keeping score.

Now I realized how naive I'd been.

Anything given too easily was never valued.

Dallas looped her arm through his and smiled sweetly. "I knew you'd say yes, Charles. You're the best."

Then she threw me a look that was pure mockery.

Her friends followed suit, eyeing me with open disdain.

It wasn't the first time I'd met them. Three years ago, before they left the country, they'd hung around Dallas all the time, going out of their way to humiliate me.