Chapter 7

When Aubrey returned to the house, Connor and Kassie were in the living room. The moment she stepped through the door, Connor quickly handed Kassie a surgical mask.

"Put this on," he said gently.

Aubrey' s heart twisted. He was treating her like she was a disease.

She ignored them and started to walk towards the stairs, heading for the attic.

"Aubrey, wait," Connor called out. He was smiling, a strange, placating smile. "Kassie has a craving. Could you make her some of your chicken soup? You know, the kind you used to make for me."

He was asking her to cook for his pregnant mistress. The soup he had once called his favorite, the soup she had made for him countless times when he was sick or sad, was now for Kassie.

"She' s been having terrible morning sickness," he explained, as if that made it any better. "The smell of food makes her nauseous." He gestured to the mask. "That' s why. But she thinks she could handle your soup. You always made the best."

The implication was clear: your smell is tolerable, unlike everyone else's. It was a backhanded compliment wrapped in an insult.

He saw the look on her face and his smile faded. "Aubrey, we need to think about the big picture. This child is our future. You need to help me take care of Kassie. It' s for the best."

She looked at him, at this man who wore the face of her Connor but was a complete stranger. The boy she loved would have died before asking this of her.

"Alright," she said, her voice flat. "I' ll make the soup."

Connor looked surprised, then relieved. He thought she was finally being reasonable. "Good. You should be taking care of her. This baby will be yours, legally. It's your ticket to being officially recognized as my wife."

She met his gaze. "I have one condition."

"What is it?"

"I want my locket back," she said. "The one my parents gave me."

He hesitated, glancing at Kassie. He thought she was just being petty, but he didn't want another fight. "Fine," he said, pulling it from his pocket. "It' s just a necklace." He had no idea of its true value, no idea that he was handing back the last piece of her heart. A strange, unsettling feeling washed over him, a flicker of premonition he couldn't name.

She took the locket and went to the kitchen without another word.

When the soup was ready, she brought it out. Connor was feeding Kassie strawberries, his expression soft and doting.

Aubrey placed the soup on the table, took the locket, and went upstairs.

As Connor watched her walk away, her back straight and her steps measured, that strange, empty feeling returned. It felt like he was watching something precious slip through his fingers, something he could never get back.

In the attic, Aubrey clutched the locket. She opened it and looked at the faded picture of her parents. "I' ll be with you soon," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

She pried the other picture out, the one of her and Connor as children, and threw it in the trash. She was done with him. She fastened the chain around her neck, the cold metal a small comfort against her skin.

Suddenly, the attic door was kicked open with a deafening crash.

Two bodyguards stormed in. They grabbed her, their hands like vices on her arms, and dragged her down the stairs. They threw her onto the floor at Connor' s feet.

He stood over her, his face a mask of pure rage. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Why did you do it?" he snarled.

Pain shot through her jaw. "What are you talking about?" she gasped.

"Don' t play innocent with me!" he roared, his eyes wild. "Kassie is in the hospital! You put wine in her soup! You know she' s allergic to alcohol! You know she' s pregnant! Were you trying to kill them?"