Chapter 3

"Your closet has clothes in her size," Zachary said. "Why don't you take the guest room tonight?"

Belle pulled the blanket aside, revealing the light pink slip she was wearing. Her smile was smug, laced with barely hidden mockery.

"Regina, you don't mind, right?" she asked.

"Those clothes were never really for her anyway," Zachary chimed in. "Whoever fits them, wears them."

I understood exactly what he meant. Every dress in this bedroom had been chosen by Zachary to match Yvonne's taste. Now that someone even more like her had come along, I was just expected to quietly step aside.

"Go get some rest, Regina," he said. "Trust me, you'll always be number one in my heart. You know better than anyone whether I love you or not."

He gave me that same teasing smile, looking so sure of himself.

With the affection score stuck at 99 percent, he clearly believed I'd keep quiet and feel thankful for whatever bits of affection he threw my way, just like a dog begging for scraps.

Sure enough, I did exactly what he expected. I walked out without saying a word.

But just as I closed the door, my phone lit up with a string of messages.

"Didn't you all say I should provoke her just when she thinks I'm finally done with other women? We've done everything but hook up in front of her, and she still doesn't say a word."

"Zach, weren't you planning to up the ante next time? You just can't shake this chick."

"Wait, Zach, you sent that to the wrong group! Hurry, delete it!"

One by one, the messages were deleted. I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as pain surged through my numb heart.

I used to think 99 percent on the affection score meant something real. I was happy but also afraid, constantly walking on eggshells around Zachary, treating every rare moment of tenderness like it was gold.

But it turned out, raising the affection score was just a way to make fun of me. They only did it to watch me suffer.

It wasn't long before Zachary called.

"Regina, can you bring Belle a glass of milk? Didn't you see my message?" he asked, testing the waters.

I pretended I hadn't seen any of the messages. "No, I was just about to check on the baby."

That seemed to put him at ease. When I brought the milk, he even gave me a rare compliment.

…

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of the baby crying.

The baby had somehow crawled out of his crib and landed on the floor, wailing at the top of his lungs. His bottle was empty, and he was so hungry he tried to suck on it anyway.

Zachary stood by, totally clueless about what to do.

Even though I wasn't the baby's real mother, the sight of him crying on the floor made my heart clench. I got his formula ready and picked him up, feeding him quietly.

"What's with all the noise?" Belle's voice floated down from the upstairs landing. She leaned lazily over the railing, wearing a loose slip with the hickeys clearly visible on her neck.

"Oh, shoot, I totally forgot about the baby," she said. "This is Zach's fault. He kept me up all night."

She glanced at me, her eyes full of smug delight. "I'm gonna have to talk to him about this nanny gig. If he keeps tiring me out like this, how am I supposed to do my job?"

She made a show of blushing, then picked up a torn nightgown and tossed it down the stairs.

"Sorry, Regina," she said, barely containing a laugh. "Zach got a little too rough. It looks like your sleepwear didn't survive."

She covered her mouth, waiting for a reaction, but I just held the baby and stared right past her.

Things like this happened too often for me to care anymore. I'd learned that silence hurt less.

Last time, I spilled tea on one of his mistresses, and Zachary immediately accused me of being jealous.

There was a time when I was so desperate to boost his affection score that I let him pour scalding water on my thigh and said nothing, just so he'd see me as loyal.

The skin on my thigh had never healed. It stayed puckered and dark, a mark that would never fade.