Chapter 2

The message came from a Los Angeles number.

My name is Devan Bernard. I believe I am your brother.

Brother.

For a moment, a wild, impossible hope surged through me. I' d spent my whole life in the foster system, believing I was an orphan, a girl with no past. After the car accident that took my memories when I was a teenager, there was no one.

Now, this.

I quickly typed a reply, my fingers trembling.

How did you find me?

I waited, my eyes glued to the screen. But no reply came.

I pushed my breakfast away, the toast tasting like cardboard. The silence in the mansion was deafening. Every tick of the grandfather clock in the hall echoed the emptiness in my chest.

All day, I waited. For a reply from the mysterious Devan. For a call from my husband.

Neither came.

As evening fell, the hope that had flickered in the morning slowly died out. The light in my eyes dimmed with the setting sun.

Jackson didn' t come home.

I wandered through our perfect house, a ghost in my own life. I remembered all the times he' d come home early just to have dinner with me. The way he' d hold me in the kitchen while I cooked, his chin resting on my head.

All of that seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, there was only silence. Only loneliness.

The next few days were the same. Jackson was a shadow. He' d leave before I woke up and come home long after I' d fallen into a restless sleep, the space beside me in our king-sized bed cold and empty.

The hurt inside me grew, a heavy, constant ache. The man who used to notice if I changed my nail polish now barely seemed to see me at all.

I knew I had to talk to him. I couldn' t live like this, in this suspended state of misery.

I waited up for him one night, sitting in the dark living room. The clock struck two before I heard his key in the lock.

He walked in, looking exhausted. He loosened his tie, his shoulders slumped.

"Ellie? Why are you still up?" He sounded tired, not angry, but the distance was there.

"We need to talk, Jackson."

I kept my voice steady, even though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

"What' s going on with you and... and her? With Leo?"

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "It' s complicated."

"I love you, Eleanor. Only you. You know that."

He said the words, but they felt hollow. Rehearsed.

"I have to take responsibility for Leo," he continued. "I' ll give Karly whatever she wants financially to make sure he gets the best care. But that' s it. It' s just money and responsibility."

I stared at him, searching his face. I saw the exhaustion, the guilt. But I also saw him pulling away, building a wall around a part of his life that didn' t include me.

"Did you ever have feelings for her?" The question escaped my lips before I could stop it, small and raw.

My breath caught in my throat. I watched his face, terrified of the answer.

"No," he said, finally meeting my eyes. "It was a mistake. A one-time thing. Nothing more. My life is with you, Ellie. Only you."

A wave of relief washed over me, so powerful it almost made me dizzy. I believed him. I wanted to believe him.

I stood up and took his hand, pulling it to my flat stomach. I was about to tell him, to share the one piece of good news in this mess.

"Jackson, I..."

A sharp, insistent ringing cut through the silence. His phone.

He pulled his hand away to answer it, his expression immediately shifting to one of sheer panic.

"What? I' m on my way."

He hung up, already moving toward the door.

"Leo' s fever is spiking. They think he might be rejecting the treatment. I have to go."

He was leaving. Again.

"Get some sleep, Ellie," he said over his shoulder, his hand on the doorknob. "Be a good girl."

He was gone.

I stood alone in the vast, empty living room, my hand still on my stomach.

"I' m pregnant," I whispered to the empty space where he had been.

The words were swallowed by the silence. A single tear traced a path down my cheek. Something inside me knew, with a chilling certainty, that our perfect world had cracked, and it might never be whole again.

I woke up the next morning to a gift box on my nightstand. Inside was a necklace, a beautiful diamond pendant. There was a note.

I' m sorry, Ellie. I' ll make it up to you. Love, J.

A small part of me softened. He was trying. He was still my Jackson.

I went to my jewelry box to put it on. And then I saw it. The exact same necklace, nestled in a velvet box. A gift from last Christmas.

He hadn' t even realized he' d bought me the same thing twice.

The small warmth in my chest turned to ice. It wasn' t a thoughtful gift. It was a guilty gesture, bought by an assistant, a quick fix from a man who wasn' t paying attention anymore.

As if on cue, my phone rang. It was Crysta, Jackson' s mother.

"Eleanor, dear." Her voice was like polished steel. "I was so surprised to hear about Jackson' s... situation."

I was surprised she was calling me. Crysta Watkins had never approved of me, the orphan with no background.

"It' s been a difficult time," I said carefully.

"Yes, well," she sniffed. "I always said Jackson needed an heir. It' s a shame you haven' t been able to provide one. But now he has a son! A grandson for me. You need to be supportive, Eleanor. Go to the hospital. Show Karly and that poor child some kindness. It' s the least you can do."

The line went dead.

I stood there, her words echoing in my ears. The least I can do.

My hand went to my stomach, a bitter, hollow feeling spreading through me. I thought about the baby Jackson and I had talked about for two years. He' d always said he was in no rush, that he wanted me all to himself for a while longer.

Now, he had a son. A sick son who needed him. And I was just... the wife. The barren wife.

But I wasn' t barren.

I was carrying his child. And he didn' t even know.