Chapter 3

The next morning, Ethan felt physically ill.

A throbbing headache pulsed behind his eyes. His stomach churned.

He went downstairs, hoping to find Izzy, to see if her demeanor had changed.

She was in the breakfast room, sipping coffee, reading a tablet.

She looked up, offered a cool smile. "Morning, darling. Sleep well?"

He wanted to throw the words back in her face.

Instead, he forced a weak smile. "Not really. Headache."

He needed to appear normal, to not arouse suspicion.

As he sat down, the housekeeper, Mrs. Davies, brought him coffee.

"Mr. Miller, there was a call for you earlier. A Mr. Henderson, from the city planning office."

"Oh, right. Thanks, Martha," Ethan said, trying to focus.

Izzy didn't look up from her tablet.

A moment later, her phone rang.

She answered, her voice low and guarded. "Yes? ... Okay, I' ll be right there."

She stood up. "Something I need to attend to at the gatehouse. An issue with a delivery."

She barely glanced at him as she left.

The gatehouse was a considerable distance from the main house.

Another flimsy excuse.

He watched her go, a hollow ache in his chest.

He remembered when she couldn' t bear to be apart from him.

When her eyes would light up when he entered a room.

Now, he was an inconvenience, an obstacle.

He felt like a ghost in his own life.

The coffee tasted bitter.

He pushed his plate away, his appetite gone.

He felt so alone, so utterly betrayed.

Izzy returned half an hour later, her expression unreadable.

She sat down, picked up her coffee cup.

"Everything sorted?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yes, just a mix-up," she said vaguely.

She seemed distracted, her eyes constantly flitting towards her phone.

He wondered if Liam was at the gatehouse.

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea through him.

Later that day, Ethan was in the library, trying to lose himself in some architectural journals.

He heard voices from the adjoining sunroom. Izzy and her mother, Eleanor.

He couldn' t help but listen.

"...and Liam is settling in well at the cottage?" Eleanor asked.

The "cottage" was a guesthouse on the far side of the estate, even more secluded than the main house.

"Yes, Mother. He understands the arrangement," Izzy replied.

"Good. Discretion is paramount. Ethan must remain oblivious. His... stability is crucial until the child is born."

Stability. They thought he was unstable. Or they wanted him to be.

The cruelty of it, the cold calculation, was breathtaking.

Ethan felt a surge of anger, so intense it made him dizzy.

He stood up, ready to storm in there, to confront them both.

But then he remembered the legal documents, the extent of the deception.

They had planned this meticulously. They wouldn't hesitate to discredit him, to make him look unhinged if he challenged them.

He needed more than just his word against theirs.

He needed undeniable proof, something he could take to his brother, David.

David was a lawyer, sharp and protective. He would know what to do.

He forced himself to calm down, to think.

He had to get his hands on those documents again, the ones from Izzy' s phone.

But how? Her phone was always with her, always password-protected now.

He remembered seeing a copy of the donor agreement in the folder in her study.

Was it still there?

He had to risk it.

That night, after Izzy was asleep, or pretending to be, Ethan slipped out of bed.

He moved silently through the darkened house, his heart pounding in his chest.

He reached the study. The door was unlocked.

He fumbled for the light switch, then thought better of it. He used the flashlight on his phone.

He went to the filing cabinet where he' d seen the folder.

He pulled open the drawer.

The folder was there.

His hands shook as he opened it.

The sperm donor agreement. Liam O' Connell' s name. Izzy' s signature.

It was all there.

But as he reached for it, he heard a noise from the hallway.

Footsteps.

Coming towards the study.

He froze.

The doorknob began to turn.