Chapter 2

Harry was waiting in the car, his smile perfectly charming when I told him.

"That's wonderful news, Evie! Truly wonderful."

He reached for my hand, his touch making my skin crawl.

In my first life, I' d melted at his feigned joy, believing his act.

Now, I saw the flicker in his eyes, the quick calculation. A baby would be good for his image, a family man politician.

His delight was a performance, and I was its unwilling audience.

"We should tell your family immediately," he said, already reaching for his phone, "Eleanor and Victoria will be thrilled."

My stepmother, Eleanor Davenport, who always looked down on me, and Victoria, my tormentor.

"No," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, firm.

Harry paused, his eyebrow raising slightly. "No?"

"Not yet, Harry. It' s too early. I want to wait until the first trimester is over. More stable then."

It was a reasonable excuse, one he couldn't easily argue against.

He frowned for a moment, then smoothed it away. "Of course, darling. Whatever you think is best."

But I saw the annoyance. He wanted the political points now.

Back at the Bishop estate, Mrs. Davis, the head housekeeper, greeted us.

She was a pragmatic woman, had been with Harry' s family for years.

"Any news, Madam?" she asked, her eyes knowing. She' d seen me go to the doctor.

"Good news, Mrs. Davis," I said, allowing a small, tired smile. "But we' re keeping it quiet for now."

Harry went to his study, eager to make calls, to spin his narrative even without the baby announcement.

Mrs. Davis lingered. "Should I inform Mrs. Davenport, Madam? She does like to be kept abreast of family matters."

Eleanor. She'd use the news to control me, to criticize.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Davis," I said coolly. "I'll handle my stepmother."

The housekeeper nodded, accepting my decision.

Later that evening, I feigned pregnancy fatigue.

"Harry, darling," I said, finding him in his study, "I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. This pregnancy is already taking a toll."

He looked up, a flicker of impatience before his concerned husband mask slipped on. "Of course, Evie. You should rest."

"It' s just... I worry about you too," I continued, my voice soft, "All your work, and now with me not being at my best..."

I let my gaze drift towards the hallway, where Chloe, Mrs. Davis's niece and my very junior assistant, was tidying some papers.

Chloe was young, ambitious, easily impressed by power and wealth.

In my first life, she' d been a minor player, easily overlooked. Now, she was a pawn.

"Perhaps," I said, as if the idea just struck me, "Chloe could offer you some... personal support? She' s very capable, and eager to please. She could manage your schedule here at home, ensure you have everything you need while I' m resting more."

Harry' s eyes followed my gaze to Chloe. A predatory glint, quickly masked.

"That' s... very thoughtful of you, Evie," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Generous, even."

I smiled, a cold, knowing smile he couldn't decipher. "I just want what's best for us, Harry."

He thought I was being a naive, dutiful wife.

He had no idea I was handing him the first thread to weave his own noose.

I was setting the stage, and the players were moving into position.