Chapter 4

That evening, the doorbell rang.

The butler opened the door, and an elegantly dressed woman walked inside.

It was Kristina Wynn, Caden's childhood friend. In their social circles, it was an unspoken assumption that she was the one destined to be the true Mrs. Bradley.

As our eyes met, a perfectly rehearsed flicker of surprise brushed across her features.

"Oh? Is Ms. Kennedy home as well?"

Ms. Kennedy. Never Mrs. Bradley.

For the past three years, she'd always addressed me that way. I never used to care.

Now it irritated me.

[Oh great. The queen of jealousy is here. Out of all the women on the planet, she is easily Dad’s least favorite. No one else even comes close. Whenever she stops by, his frown gets so intense he could practically swat flies with his eyebrows.

[Mom, forget the pleasantries. Give it to her straight.]

I leaned lazily against the sofa without moving. Then I gave her a calm glance. "Can I help you with something, Miss Wynn?"

Kristina sat down across from me, as if she owned the place, elegantly smoothing the skirt over her knees.

"I came to see Caden and Mrs. Bradley as well." She smiled gently. "Caden seems especially busy lately. He looks exhausted."

Her gaze drifted meaningfully toward my stomach. "Given your pregnancy, you really ought to be more considerate of his situation. After all, the weight of the Bradley family business isn’t something just anyone can manage."

The words sounded caring on the surface, but every sentence was carefully sharpened.

You’re immature.

You’re a burden.

You came from nothing and contribute nothing to his world.

In the past, I would've quietly endured it because, deep down, I thought she was right.

But today?

I had no interest in swallowing it anymore.

Slowly, I straightened up and rested a hand over my rounded stomach. "As his wife, I believe I understand Caden's state of mind better than you do, regardless of how tired he may or may not be."

I offered her a faint smile. "So I won't trouble an outsider like you to concern yourself about him."

My sudden retaliation clearly caught her off guard; she wasn't used to the docile, passive version of me fighting back.

However, her composure returned almost instantly.

"Ms. Kennedy, you've misunderstood me. I didn't mean anything by it." She lowered her eyes delicately. "I just want what's best for Caden. We grew up together, after all..."

[Here we go again. The childhood memories routine. Every single time. Aren't they tired of recycling the same stories?

[One time, she tried touching Dad’s cufflinks, and he dodged her like she carried a contagious disease. Dad even said her perfume smelled like cheap air freshener.]

I nearly lost control of my expression.