Chapter 4

"I want a divorce, Ethan," I said that evening. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "And I' m not keeping the baby. I can' t. Not like this."

He stared at me, his face paling. "What are you talking about, Sarah? You can' t mean that. The baby..."

"I mean it," I said. "This environment, this... lie. It' s toxic. I won' t bring a child into it." My earlier resolve, born of heartbreak during the storm, now felt like the only sane path.

His expression shifted from shock to anger. "You' re not getting rid of my child, Sarah! And you' re not leaving."

He grabbed my arm. "You' re emotional. You' re pregnant. You don' t know what you' re saying."

He started keeping a closer watch on me, insisting I not leave the house alone. "For your own good," he said. "Until you' re thinking clearly." I was a prisoner in my own home, the home that now felt more like Olivia' s sanctuary.

A few days later, while Ethan was at work, the doorbell rang. It was Patricia Hayes, Olivia' s mother. She was a woman with sharp features and an even sharper ambition in her eyes, a stark contrast to Olivia' s cultivated softness.

She pushed past me into the house, her gaze sweeping dismissively over me and my swollen belly.

"Olivia told me everything," Patricia announced, her voice dripping with false sympathy that didn' t reach her eyes. "Poor girl, so trusting. And Ethan, such a good man to stand by her."

Stand by her? I almost laughed.

"Olivia is pregnant," Patricia declared, a triumphant glint in her eye. "With Ethan' s child, of course. It happened that night, after the festival, when he was comforting her. A moment of weakness, but a blessing nonetheless."

My head spun. Olivia pregnant? With Ethan' s child? Was this another lie, a way to solidify her place? Or had Ethan betrayed me even more deeply than I imagined?

Patricia then marched towards the master bedroom. "Olivia needs a proper room. This one will do. We' ll just clear out your things." She began opening drawers, pulling out my clothes.

"Get out!" I screamed, a rage I didn' t know I possessed surging through me. "Get out of my house!"

She ignored me, picking up my grandmother' s antique locket from the nightstand, a piece of jewelry that was my most treasured possession. "Tacky," she muttered, and then it slipped from her fingers, or perhaps she let it fall. It hit the hardwood floor with a sickening crack, the clasp breaking, the delicate chain snapping.

Something inside me broke with it. I lunged at her, not thinking, just pure, raw fury.

Ethan walked in at that exact moment.

"What in God' s name is going on here?" he yelled, pulling me away from a startled Patricia.

Patricia immediately burst into tears. "Ethan, she attacked me! I just came to share our happy news, and she... she' s hysterical!"

Ethan looked at the broken locket, then at me, my face tear-streaked and contorted with anger. He seemed to soften for a moment. He picked up the locket, his expression unreadable.

He turned to Patricia. "You shouldn' t have come here like this, Mrs. Hayes. Or touched Sarah' s things." His voice was firm. He ushered her out, promising to call her later.

When she was gone, he turned back to me, the locket still in his hand.

"Sarah, I... I' m sorry about your locket." He looked genuinely distressed. "Listen to me. Olivia... she told me she might be pregnant. It' s not mine, Sarah. I swear. We haven' t... not like that. She' s confused, scared. I' m going to take her to a clinic, overseas. A discreet one. We' ll handle it. This will all be over soon, I promise. Then it will just be us again, and the baby. Our baby."

His words were a desperate plea. He was promising to fix everything, to make Olivia and her problems disappear. A flicker of something – was it hope? Or just exhaustion? – went through me. He wanted our baby. He wanted us. But the image of him with Olivia during the storm, the sound of his mother' s cruel words, his own public validation of the lie... it was too much.

But his promise, his plan to take Olivia away, gave me an idea. A way out.