Chapter 3

Ethan had me moved back to the estate the next day. He arranged for a private nurse and told me not to worry about a thing. He said he would take care of everything, that I just needed to rest and focus on the baby. His promises were a silken trap, and I felt the threads tightening around me. He kissed my forehead before he left for the office, a perfect portrait of a doting husband.

"I love you, Ava," he said. "Both of you."

The words meant nothing.

Left alone in the silent, opulent bedroom, I picked up my tablet. I didn't have to look far. The city's top gossip blog had a new post. The headline was "Billionaire Beau Ethan Kensington Dines with Mystery Woman." There were pictures, grainy but clear enough. Ethan and Chloe, sitting at a secluded table in a restaurant I'd never been to. He was laughing. She was leaning in close, her hand on his arm. The photo was timestamped from the night before, while I was lying in a hospital bed.

A hot, bitter anger rose in my throat. He had left my side, the side of his supposedly cherished wife who had just survived a wreck, to have a cozy dinner with his pregnant mistress. The public humiliation was a fresh wound on top of all the others.

The stress and anger churned in my stomach. A sharp cramp seized my abdomen, making me gasp. The pain was intense, a deep, twisting knot. It wasn't just emotional pain anymore. My body was screaming. I felt a wave of dizziness, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin.

This was wrong. Something was very wrong.

The private nurse Ethan hired was nowhere to be found. I called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I was alone. Panic began to set in. The cramping was getting worse, coming in waves. I needed a doctor.

I couldn't call Ethan. I knew he wouldn't answer, or if he did, he'd just tell me to rest, to stop being dramatic. I was on my own.

With trembling hands, I called for a car service, using an app on my phone. I didn't want a driver from the Kensington staff. I didn't want anyone reporting back to Ethan. I managed to get dressed, my movements slow and painful. I walked out of the mansion like a thief, slipping out a side door and meeting the car on the main road. The driver looked at my pale face with concern but didn't ask any questions.

At the hospital-a different one from before-I was rushed into an examination room. The doctor, a woman with kind, serious eyes, did an ultrasound. She was quiet for a long time, her brow furrowed as she looked at the screen.

"Mrs. Kensington," she said finally, her voice gentle. "The fall in the car... it seems to have caused a small placental abruption. It's a serious condition. The baby is at risk, and so are you. You need to be on complete bed rest. No stress. Absolutely no stress."

Her words confirmed my deepest fears. The baby, the one I was so conflicted about, was in danger. And the stress, the constant, grinding stress of Ethan's betrayal, was poison.

I went back to the estate with the doctor's warnings echoing in my head. I was lying in bed when Ethan came home late that night. He walked into the bedroom, looking pleased with himself. He leaned down to kiss me, and a wave of revulsion washed over me.

He smelled of her. The same perfume Chloe always wore, a cloying floral scent, was clinging to his suit jacket.

The smell, the proof of his lies, hit me like a physical blow. A violent wave of nausea surged up, and I barely made it to the bathroom before I was sick. I retched until my stomach was empty, my body shaking with the force of it.

Ethan followed me, rubbing my back with a concerned look on his face. "Morning sickness," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. "The doctor said this might happen. It's a good sign."

I wanted to scream. It wasn't a good sign. It was my body rejecting him, rejecting this whole toxic lie.

I cleaned myself up and got back into bed, turning my back to him. I pretended to be asleep. I couldn't stand to look at him, to hear his voice. I lay perfectly still, my eyes closed, and listened.

He undressed quietly, then got into bed beside me. For a few minutes, there was silence. I thought he had fallen asleep. Then, I heard the soft glow of a phone screen turning on. I risked a tiny peek from under my eyelashes.

He was texting. A faint smile was on his face as he typed.

I closed my eyes again, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew who he was texting. I lay there, feigning sleep, my mind racing. What were they saying? What promises was he making to her while lying in bed with his wife?

His phone buzzed softly with a reply. He typed something back, then his thumb hesitated over the screen. After a moment, I heard the soft clicks of him navigating to his photo gallery. He was looking at a picture.

I held my breath.

Then I heard it. A quiet sigh from him, a sound of contentment. It was the same sound he made when he held me, back when I believed he loved me.

The betrayal was so profound, so complete, that all the pain and anger inside me solidified into a cold, hard resolve. I wasn't just going to leave him. I was going to make sure he understood what he had lost.

But first, I needed proof. I needed to see it with my own eyes.

The next night, he told me he had a late business dinner he couldn't get out of. He kissed me goodbye, told me to rest, and promised to be home early. The lie was so smooth, so practiced.

I waited an hour. Then I got out of bed, dressed in dark clothes, and called another car. I gave the driver an address. It was a luxury condo building not far from his office. A place I knew he kept for "business purposes."

I had the driver park across the street. I just sat there, in the dark, and waited.

I didn't have to wait long.

A car pulled up to the main entrance. Ethan got out of the driver's side. Then he walked around and opened the passenger door.

Chloe stepped out. She was wearing a beautiful dress, and she was laughing at something he said. He put his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

He leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn't a quick, friendly kiss. It was long and deep and passionate. A kiss full of a history I was only just beginning to understand. He kissed her like he owned her. Like he loved her.

They walked into the building together, his arm still wrapped around her, their bodies pressed close.

I sat in the car, my body completely numb. The sight didn't even hurt anymore. It was just confirmation. A cold, hard fact. All the love I thought I had, all the dreams I had built, were nothing but a shared delusion. He had built a second life, a second family, and I was just a piece of the architecture in his grand design.

I looked down at my own stomach. The baby inside me, the one the doctor said was at risk, felt like a stranger. It wasn't a symbol of love. It was a product of lies and betrayal. And I would not let it be born into this world of deceit.

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