Chapter 3

My breath caught in my throat. He didn' t even look at me. He just continued, his voice cold and detached.

"I've fallen in love with someone else, Erica. It happens."

He spoke as if he were discussing a business merger.

"My love for you hasn't disappeared," he said, the words sounding hollow and absurd. "It's just... evolved. You will always be Mrs. Cole. Your position is secure. But my exclusive love? That's no longer on the table."

He loosened his tie, his gaze finally meeting mine. It was devoid of any warmth.

"Think of it like an investment portfolio. Sometimes you need to diversify to keep things fresh. I suggest you learn to look the other way."

The sheer ridiculousness of his words almost made me laugh. He was trying to rationalize his betrayal as a sound business decision.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I was too tired, too numb. I just stared at him, my silence a stark contrast to his callous speech.

His eyes flickered to the single blue rose in the vase on the table. A flash of something-guilt, maybe-crossed his face before it was gone.

"I'll have dinner with you," he sighed, as if it were a great sacrifice. "It's my responsibility, after all."

He sat down opposite me, his posture stiff and unwilling.

I remembered the times he would race home from work just to have dinner with me. The times he' d surprise me with desserts he' d learned to make himself because I had a sweet tooth.

Now, I could clearly see the impatience on his face. I wanted to be indifferent. I wanted it not to hurt. But the chasm between the man he was and the man he had become was too vast. The memory of his past warmth made his current coldness feel like a physical blow.

I lost what little appetite I had. I stood up and walked back to my bedroom without a word.

I remembered him chasing me around the house with a spoon, coaxing me to eat when I was sick.

Now, he just watched me go, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. He probably thought I was playing hard to get. He went to sleep in the guest room.

Later that night, hunger pangs drove me downstairs. The lights in the kitchen were on. I saw James standing at the stove, his back to me.

He was cooking.

His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his strong forearms. The way his knuckles looked as he gripped the spatula was so familiar it ached. He dipped a spoon into the pot to taste the soup, a small, intimate gesture that sent a jolt of false hope through me.

The kitchen island was covered with an array of beautifully prepared dishes. My heart fluttered. For a crazy second, I thought it was for me. An apology. A peace offering.

My eyes suddenly felt wet.

But then he started packing everything into insulated food containers, his movements quick and efficient.

He turned and saw me standing there. His face was a blank mask.

"This isn't for you," he said flatly.

He walked past me, carrying the containers, and headed for the door, leaving me alone in the scent of food I wouldn't eat.

I let out a shaky, self-mocking laugh.

I was about to go back upstairs and pack a bag, to leave this house and this life behind, when the sound of cars pulling up outside stopped me.

The maids scrambled to line up by the door, their faces tense.

My stomach sank. I knew who it was.

Guss Frost, James' s father, strode in, his presence filling the room with an oppressive weight. He was a man who commanded respect and fear in equal measure.

He saw me on the stairs and his lip curled in disdain.

"Pregnant and already putting on airs," he said, his voice a low growl. "You don't even come down to greet your elders?"

I walked down the rest of the stairs. Before I could speak, he barked another order.

"Make me some tea."

A maid moved to help, but Guss shot her a look that froze her in place. "I was speaking to her."

I went to the kitchen, my hands trembling slightly as I prepared the tea. I brought the cup to him. He didn't take it. He just stared at me, his eyes cold and assessing.

"You don't know the rules, do you? Now that you carry the Frost family heir, you should be even more mindful of your place."

The teacup rattled in my hand, and hot liquid spilled over my fingers, stinging my skin.

Then he delivered the final blow.

"We will need to conduct a paternity test on the fetus. We must ensure the purity of the Frost bloodline."

A violent shiver ran through me. The teacup slipped from my grasp, shattering on the marble floor. A sharp pain shot through my stomach.

I instinctively clutched my belly. "No," I whispered, my voice trembling. "An amniocentesis... it's dangerous this early."

Guss slammed his cane on the floor. "The Frost bloodline is what matters! If that thing in your belly isn't a Frost, it's worthless!"

I stared at him in disbelief, a cold dread seeping into my bones. He saw my child not as a life, but as an asset.

"I won't let you hurt my baby," I said, my voice gaining a sliver of strength.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking. "James... James won't let you do this."

I dialed his number. As the call connected, I heard his ringtone. It was coming from the doorway.

I turned, a wave of relief washing over me. He was here. He would protect us. James stood there, his face a dark storm cloud.

For a brief, naive moment, I felt a surge of love. He had come back for me.