Chapter 3

When I first told Elroy I was pregnant, he barely reacted. Just stayed calm, distant.

Then he disappeared to some church—lit a candle, prayed for a long time—and came back with a charm he swore would protect me and the baby.

I told myself he just sucked at showing feelings. I was touched.

But it was all an act.

The charm was for Brigitte.

The charm he gave me was fake. So was his love.

He sliced an apple, held a piece to my lips. I turned away. He hesitated, looking thrown.

Then, softly, "Babe... did you pick up my phone this morning?"

His brow creased. Waiting. Watching.

The longer I said nothing, the more nervous he got.

"What did you hear?"

I looked away, drained. "Nothing. Your phone was across the room. I knocked it off by accident."

He exhaled, all relieved, and tucked the blanket around me like everything was fine.

Then, real quiet, he asked, "If our baby doesn't make it... could we adopt?"

So ready to keep his promise—to her.

I gave a faint smile. "Remember what you said at our wedding? That if you ever betrayed me, you'd spend your life drowning in guilt. Never know peace."

Funny how vows shine so bright... then vanish.

Elroy's face twisted. "Babe, I'd never hurt you! You have to believe me!"

I let out a dry laugh, pulled the blanket over my head.

"I'm tired."

Tired of pretending this was love.

***

The day before my due date, I went home.

Elroy had kept me locked in the hospital since the second I got pregnant—on-call doctors, round-the-clock care.

But now? No need. The baby was never coming.

The house overflowed with baby stuff. I used to think he picked it out with love.

Now I knew—it was all for Brigitte's kid.

The computer was still on.

A notarized doc sat open, naming the next Lousteau heir.

I scrolled. Mother's name: Brigitte Tillon.

Our wedding photos, dating pics, even that dumb pottery from college—they were all still out.

The more perfect it looked, the more it crushed me.

Did he still love me?

I traced his face in a wedding photo.

We were the couple everyone envied. Elroy spoiled me so much, people wouldn't shut up about it.

I still remember when I said yes—how he cried, promised forever, swore he'd never let go.

And the time he blew up at the maid when Brigitte slept in our bed because she had a fever.

He wanted them gone.

I stopped him.

The maid was old. Brigitte was still a student.

That one kind moment cost me everything.

Looking back, the signs were always there.

He was always "tutoring" Brigitte.

What kind of tutoring does a college student need?