Chapter 3

I woke up to a sharp, cramping pain in my abdomen. The world swam back into focus slowly.

The first thing I saw was Ethan, smiling down at me.

"It went perfectly, honey," he said. "The doctors got a lot of healthy eggs. We're on our way."

His words meant nothing. All I could hear was the echo of his phone call.

When we got home to our Napa Valley estate, a new car was parked in the driveway. A sensible, safe Volvo.

Inside, Molly Chavez was standing in our foyer, directing movers who were carrying in her boxes.

She looked at me, a cool, professional expression on her face.

"Ethan hired me," she said, her voice smooth. "As a pregnancy wellness companion. I have experience with holistic health, and since I'm also expecting, he thought it would be a good fit."

I looked at Ethan. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Molly needed a stable environment," he said quietly. "And a job. It's the best solution for everyone."

The rage that had been simmering inside me for weeks finally boiled over. I walked straight up to Molly.

"You hypocrite," I hissed. "The woman who doesn't want his money? The woman who wants him to leave her alone?"

"I'm just here for a paycheck," she replied, not even flinching. "I need to support my child."

"Get out of my house."

"This is my job now," she said with a small, self-satisfied smile. "You should talk to your husband if you have a problem with it."

She turned away from me and picked up a mug of steaming herbal tea from the console table. My hand shot out, not to hit her, but to grab the mug. I just wanted her to stop talking, to stop looking so smug in my home.

But I misjudged the movement. My hand knocked the mug, and the hot tea sloshed out, spilling down her arm.

She let out a piercing shriek.

Ethan, who had been watching from the doorway, rushed in. He completely ignored me, his eyes fixed on Molly.

"Are you okay? Let me see," he said, his voice full of panic as he pushed up her sleeve. A red splotch was already forming on her skin.

He glared at me, his face contorted with fury. "What is wrong with you, Elyse?"

Molly started to cry, big, theatrical tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's okay, Ethan," she sobbed. "I'm sure she didn't mean it."

Her performance only made him angrier at me. He carefully helped her to the sofa, treating her like a fragile piece of glass, while I stood alone in the foyer, the forgotten wife.