Chapter 4

**Mara**

I remained rooted to the spot, unable to move. My feet felt as though they had fused to the marble floor while my mind struggled to catch up with everything that had just happened. The dining room was so quiet that I could hear my own breathing, uneven and shallow, scraping against the silence.

Upstairs, muffled voices drifted through the mansion. Mrs. Blackwood's voice was gentle, almost motherly, as she fussed over Vanessa. Damon's voice followed a moment later, low and calm, asking questions I couldn't make out. Every word was another reminder that his concern belonged to someone else now.

I lowered my eyes. The hand I had used to push Vanessa's wrist away was still trembling. I slowly opened my fingers, staring at my palm as though it might somehow explain how such a small movement had turned into a lie capable of destroying my marriage.

A few minutes later, footsteps echoed from the staircase. I looked up instinctively.

Damon came down first, one hand resting lightly against Vanessa's back as he guided her down each step. Mrs. Blackwood followed close behind, her gaze never leaving Vanessa's face.

"I'm feeling much better," Vanessa said softly, one hand resting protectively over her stomach while the other held Damon's arm. "I don't want to stay upstairs by myself."

Mrs. Blackwood smiled with relief. "Then don't, dear. Come and lie down on the sofa. You'll be more comfortable here, and we'll all be able to keep an eye on you."

Damon helped her onto the large cream-colored sofa in the living room, his movements slow and careful, as though she might break if he wasn't gentle enough.

Only then did I realize I was still standing exactly where they had left me. The room felt strangely quiet, even though Vanessa's soft sniffles and my mother-in-law's comforting voice filled the air. None of it sounded real anymore. The only thing I could hear clearly was my own heartbeat.

Damon didn't look at me. His attention remained fixed on Vanessa as he crouched in front of her, searching her face for any sign of discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly. She nodded weakly before forcing a small smile. "A little."

His brows drew together. "I'll call the doctor."

Vanessa quickly reached for his wrist. "No." She shook her head gently. "I'm not bleeding, and the pain is already easing. The doctor told me not to panic over every little scare."

Mrs. Blackwood immediately nodded in agreement. "She's right. Stress won't be good for the baby." She turned toward one of the maids. "Bring her a glass of warm water."

The maid hurried away without a second's hesitation. Another servant appeared moments later with a soft blanket and carefully draped it over Vanessa's shoulders.

I watched them in silence. It was almost ironic. Three years in this house, and I couldn't remember anyone hovering over me like that.

Not when I burned my hand preparing Christmas dinner after every servant had been given the day off. Not even after the doctor quietly explained that what I'd experienced had been a chemical pregnancy. No one had wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

The realization settled heavily inside my chest. Somehow, I had spent three years calling this place home. Only now did I understand that I had merely been living in someone else's house.

Damon finally straightened and turned toward me. Our eyes met. There was no warmth in his gaze.

"Mara." My throat tightened. "I didn't push her." The words came out softer than I intended, almost pleading.

"I know what I saw." His answer was immediate.

I shook my head so quickly that loose strands of hair fell across my face. "No." I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "You saw her on the floor." "You didn't see what happened before that."

He closed his eyes briefly and rubbed a hand across his forehead. The gesture looked painfully familiar. "I don't want to argue anymore."

A hollow laugh threatened to escape my lips, but I forced it back down. "I wasn't arguing." My voice trembled despite my efforts to keep it steady. "I was asking you to believe me."

Silence stretched between us. It wasn't the comfortable silence we used to share on quiet evenings. This one felt cold and heavy, like a wall neither of us knew how to cross.

Mrs. Blackwood let out a quiet sigh and slowly rose from Vanessa's side. "This," she said, turning to look at Damon before fixing her sharp gaze on me, "is exactly the problem." Her eyes held nothing but disappointment. "You always have an explanation."

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my lips. My fingers curled tightly around each other until my nails dug into my skin, but I barely felt the sting. "What else am I supposed to do?" I asked quietly. "Confess to something I didn't do?"

Mrs. Blackwood's expression didn't soften. "You should stop making excuses." The words settled over me like a heavy weight.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Vanessa spoke first. "Please," she whispered, lowering her eyes as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks, "don't fight because of me." She sniffled softly and pressed a trembling hand against her stomach. "I'll feel terrible if something happens because of me."

Mrs. Blackwood immediately reached for her hand. "You've done nothing wrong, dear." Her voice overflowed with tenderness. "You should be resting, not worrying about this."

I watched the scene silently. For a brief second, I wondered what it felt like to have someone defend you without asking questions.

Damon drew in a slow breath. His shoulders rose before falling again, as though he had finally made peace with a decision he'd been carrying for a long time. "Mara." Something about the way he said my name made my stomach tighten. "I've thought about this for a long time."

My heartbeat quickened. A strange uneasiness crept through me, wrapping itself around my chest until it became difficult to breathe. "What do you mean?"

His eyes met mine. There wasn't a trace of anger in them anymore. That frightened me more. "I don't think this marriage can continue."

Everything around me seemed to pause at that instance. "What," the word barely left my lips, "did you say?"

"I've made my decision."

I stared at him, unable to blink. "No." The single word escaped in a whisper. I shook my head slowly. "No, Damon."

My feet carried me toward him before I even realized I was moving. "We can fix this." My voice cracked. "We've been through difficult times before." I searched his face desperately, hoping to find even the smallest crack in his resolve. "We just need to talk."

He remained still. His expression never changed. "There isn't anything left to discuss." His calmness hurt more than shouting ever could. I felt my chest tighten until every breath became painful.

"So," a shaky laugh escaped me, "you're ending our marriage because another woman told you she's pregnant?"

"It's more than that."

"Then tell me." I spread my hands helplessly. "Tell me what I did that was so unforgivable."

His jaw tightened. "We've wanted different things for a long time."

I frowned, struggling to understand. "Wanted different things?" I took another step toward him. "My whole world has been this marriage." My eyes burned. "I wanted our family." "I wanted us." My voice broke on the last word. "You were my future."

For the first time, Damon looked away. He closed his eyes briefly before speaking. "I can't keep waiting for something that may never happen." The words pierced through me.

Mrs. Blackwood folded her hands neatly in her lap. "My son deserves an heir." The matter-of-fact way she said it sent a chill through me, as though three years of loving her son could be measured against a child I hadn't been able to give him.

I looked back at Damon. "Do you agree with her?"

Silence. It lasted only a few seconds, but it felt endless. Then, he nodded.

Something inside me finally broke, silently but heart wrenching, like fragile glass cracking under too much pressure. I lowered my eyes before anyone could see the tears spilling over.

When I looked up again, Damon had reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a small cream-colored envelope and held it for a moment before placing it gently on the coffee table between us. "I've already spoken to my lawyers." His voice remained calm. "They're preparing the divorce papers."

I stared at the envelope without moving. "You should receive them within the next few days."

The room spun slightly. I blinked several times, trying to steady myself. "You've," my lips trembled, "already hired a lawyer?"

"I wanted everything handled properly." He gently pushed the envelope toward me. "I've also arranged financial compensation."

My eyes remained fixed on it. "What is that?"

"The settlement." "The Riverside villa will be transferred into your name." "I'll also make sure you receive enough money to live comfortably."

For several seconds, I couldn't speak. Then a quiet laugh escaped me. It sounded empty, broken.

"So," I looked from the envelope back to his face, "that's what three years of marriage is worth?" "A house."

He didn't answer immediately. "I'm trying to make this easier."

"Easier?" I repeated the word slowly, almost tasting how absurd it sounded. I pressed a trembling hand against my chest. "There is nothing easy about watching the man I love replace me while I'm still his wife."

Silence swallowed the room. Not one person spoke. I looked at each of them in turn. Only then did I realize the painful truth. I had spent three years trying to become part of this family. They had never truly made room for me.

A tear slipped down my cheek. I brushed it away before another could follow. "You know what hurts the most?" My voice was barely above a whisper. "It isn't the divorce." I swallowed. "It isn't even the pregnancy." I forced myself to look directly at Damon. "It's realizing," a sad smile appeared on my lips, "that I was the only one fighting for this marriage."

For the first time since this nightmare began, Damon's eyes flickered. Regret. Guilt. Maybe both. But it disappeared before I could be sure. It didn't matter anymore.

I nodded once, a small, defeated movement. "I'll wait for the papers." Without another word, I turned and walked toward the staircase.

No one called my name. No one asked me to stay. No one came after me. Each step felt heavier than the last. Yet somehow, they also felt like the first steps away from the life I had spent three years trying to save.

As I reached the top of the stairs, the quiet voices downstairs faded behind me. I didn't look back. But within me, I was sobbing loudly.