Chapter 3 The Promise He Broke

When I got home, Forrest was on the balcony, talking on the phone.

He had his back to me, his voice gentle. "Stop crying. The necklace was my way of making it up to you. Whatever she has, you'll have too."

I stopped in the living room, sweat dampening one corner of the pregnancy test results in my hand.

He had made a similar promise to me once.

In our second year of marriage, the company was struggling badly. He missed my birthday, then bought me a cheap, thin chain necklace.

As he fastened it around my neck, he promised that once the company got back on its feet, he would give me the best of everything.

Back then, I thought I already had the best thing in the world.

Now, he was splitting that same promise between two women.

Forrest ended the call and turned around. His gaze landed on the paper bag in my hand. "Where have you been?"

I did not take out the pregnancy test results. "The lease on the pottery studio expires next month. I'm going to take it back."

His brows drew together. "Why? Everything's been fine."

"I funded the studio, and both the lease and the equipment are in my name. I don't want to keep running it."

"Weren't you the one who wanted her to learn to stand on her own two feet?"

He walked over to me. "Honey, she's worked so hard to move past what happened to her. If you take the studio away now, she'll think she's being abandoned all over again."

"I can pay her everything she's owed, plus three months of financial support."

I placed the termination agreement I had already drafted on the table. "She's an adult. I'm not obligated to support her for the rest of her life."

The moment Forrest saw the agreement, his expression changed. "You've been home for just one day, and you're already determined to take things this far?"

"I'm just taking back what's mine."

"That's what she's counting on to get by." He snatched up the agreement and crumpled it into a ball. "Why do you have to make life so hard for a girl who's already suffered so much?"

"Forrest, can you stop being unreasonable?"

After those words left my mouth, I found myself drifting for a moment.

When I used to stay up late working, he would shut off my computer and carry me to bed.

He had taken drinks for me, and when my parents died one after the other, he stayed by my side for seven whole days.

I had always believed his overbearing ways were simply his clumsy way of showing love.

Only now did I realize the difference. When it came to me, being overbearing meant making decisions on my behalf. When it came to Lyra, it meant giving her everything she asked for.

I took the supplementary credit card out of my bag and set it on the table. "I'm canceling the card, and I'm taking back the studio."

He stared at the card, his voice softening. "I can explain what happened with the necklace."

"I don't want to hear it."

I tucked the pregnancy test results back into the bottom of my bag and went into the study.

He did not follow me.

Ten minutes later, I heard the front door open.

The shared vehicle information on my phone showed that he had gone to the pottery studio.

He did not come home that night.

…

A few days later, I was in a meeting at work when a sudden, dragging pain hit my lower abdomen.

My secretary wanted to accompany me to the hospital, but I told her to stay at the office and handle the audit documents.

The ER doctor gave me the paperwork for a threatened miscarriage and told me to arrange for admission as soon as possible.

I walked out of the examination room with the paperwork in hand and was about to call Forrest when a commotion broke out outside.

"Make way! She's hurt!"

Forrest rushed into the ER carrying Lyra in his arms. His shirt was splattered with mud, and sweat beaded at his forehead.

"Where's the doctor? Her hand won't stop bleeding. Treat her first."

Lyra huddled in his arms, her right hand wrapped in a towel.

When a nurse unwrapped it, the injury turned out to be nothing more than a cut less than an inch long.

"The wound isn't deep. We'll clean it and put in a stitch."

Forrest still wouldn't relax. "Could she have damaged a nerve? She makes pottery. She can't have anything happen to her hand."

I stood behind him, clutching the medical paperwork.

Another wave of pain rolled through my lower abdomen. At last, I called his name. "Forrest."

He whipped around. The moment his eyes landed on the paperwork in my hand, all the color drained from his face.

"What are you doing here?"

Before I could answer, Lyra suddenly swayed. "Forrest, I'm dizzy."

Forrest instinctively turned to catch her, his shoulder striking mine.

The impact threw me off balance, and I fell backward.

I heard Forrest cry out my name, but I could not get back up.

A warm liquid trickled down my leg, spreading into a red patch across my pale skirt.