Chapter 3

Audrey Hanson POV:

My eyes flickered, but I didn't dare turn around. I didn't want him to see the pathetic gratitude that I was sure was written all over my face.

"Don't misunderstand," Clayton's cold voice cut through the air, as if he'd read my mind. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for them. It's the least they deserve after..." He trailed off, but the unspoken words hung in the air: after their daughter abandoned them.

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice a dry rasp. I fled the room before the tears could fall.

Back in the sterile guest room, I stared at my reflection. The clothes I'd been wearing for two days were crumpled and stained. I had nothing else. Nothing appropriate to wear to my own parents' funeral, five years late. The thought sent a fresh wave of shame through me.

A sharp knock on the door made me jump. Before I could answer, the door swung open.

It was Kisha. She glided in, followed by the maid, Maria, who was carrying a selection of black dresses. Kisha's smile was perfectly painted, but her eyes were cold, assessing.

"I thought you might need something to wear," she said, her voice dripping with faux concern. "I had Maria pull a few things from my closet. We're about the same size, aren't we?"

She gestured for Maria to hang the dresses on the wardrobe door. They were beautiful, expensive, and utterly alien.

"Clayton spoils me," Kisha sighed, running a hand over a silk sheath dress. "He insists I have the best of everything. He says taking care of me is his greatest pleasure now."

Every word was a carefully aimed dart. She was showing me her power, her place in his life. She was the one he spoiled now, the one he took care of. I was just a ghost in borrowed clothes.

"He's a different man since he met me," she continued, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "More grounded. He says I saved him from the darkness after you left."

I looked at the black dresses, their starkness a mirror of the void in my chest. I couldn't wear her clothes. It felt like another layer of surrender, another piece of myself I would be giving up to her.

"Thank you," I said, my voice tight. "But I'll wear my own things."

Her smile faltered for a second. "Suit yourself," she said, her tone suddenly sharp. She turned and swept out of the room, Maria trailing behind her.

I chose my own dark jeans and the crumpled sweater I arrived in. It was inappropriate, but it was mine.

The driver waiting for me was a familiar face. Frank. He had been Clayton's driver for years, a kind, quiet man who had always treated me with warmth.

His eyes widened in shock when he saw me. "Miss Hanson? Audrey? Is that really you?"

"It's me, Frank," I said, a weak smile touching my lips.

"We all... we all thought you were..." He stopped, his face full of confusion and pity.

I couldn't tell him the truth. The words would sound like madness. "It's a long story," I said, my voice weary.

The drive was quiet for a while, then Frank spoke, his voice low. "He changed after you left, miss. A lot. Sacked all the old staff, anyone who knew you. Said he didn't want any reminders."

My heart clenched. He had systematically erased every trace of me.

"And then, about six months later, he married her," Frank continued, his eyes on the rearview mirror. "Mrs. Young... Kisha. He treats her like she's made of glass. Better than he ever... well, he's very good to her."

He stopped, realizing he had said too much. But the damage was done. The last sliver of doubt I had was extinguished. It wasn't a rebound. It wasn't for show. He loved her. More than he had ever loved me.

The TMZ photo flashed in my mind. The way he was looking at her. It hadn't been a one-time mistake. It had been the beginning. He had been falling for her even then, while he was still engaged to me. The betrayal was deeper, older than I had even imagined.

The cemetery was quiet and green. I found their graves side-by-side under a large oak tree. Robert Hanson. Beloved Husband and Father. Mary Hanson. Beloved Wife and Mother.

I sank to my knees, the grief I had been holding back finally overwhelming me. I laid my head on the cool stone of my mother's grave and wept, my body shaking with silent, ragged sobs. I didn't know how long I stayed there, lost in a sea of guilt and sorrow.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to them, my voice breaking. "I'll fix this. I promise. I'll come back. I'll stop it from ever happening."

When I returned to the brownstone, the house was quiet. I was emotionally and physically drained. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and wait for the seven days to pass.

Kisha met me in the hallway. She was holding a steaming mug. "You look exhausted," she said, her sympathetic mask back in place. "I had the kitchen make you some calming herbal tea. It will help you rest."

She held it out to me. I hesitated. I didn't trust her.

Her smile tightened. "Oh, Audrey," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You don't have to pretend with me. I know you're pregnant."

My head snapped up. How? How could she possibly know? My blood ran cold.

"I saw the prenatal vitamins in your purse when Maria was checking it," she said, her eyes glinting with a cruel triumph. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

The mug in her hand suddenly seemed sinister. The scent of the tea made my stomach churn. I felt a wave of nausea, so strong I had to brace myself against the wall.

I pushed past her and ran to the nearest bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The retching was violent, leaving me weak and trembling.

When I finally emerged, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, Kisha was leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed, the sympathetic act completely gone.

"You really think you can come back here with another man's child and win him back?" she sneered, her voice dripping with venom.

"It's not another man's child," I said, my voice shaking with a mixture of weakness and fury.

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Do you take us for fools?"

Suddenly, the door at the end of the hall opened. Clayton stood there, his face a thundercloud. He must have heard the commotion.

Kisha's expression changed in an instant. Her face crumpled, her eyes filling with tears. She turned to him, her voice a wounded whisper. "Clay... I... I didn't want to tell you like this. But Audrey... she's pregnant."

Clayton's gaze snapped to me. His eyes, already cold, turned to ice. He strode towards me, his jaw tight with a barely controlled rage.

"You're pregnant?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

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