Chapter 2

The next morning, sounds of rummaging and quiet laughter from the dressing room downstairs woke me.

I looked down from the stairs. The coffee table was covered in health supplements, and the housekeeper was busy putting them away.

Lucas sat in an armchair with a financial report in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

Isabella was sitting at one end of the bench, wearing the loose cotton robe I'd had custom-made.

When she saw me, she stood and tugged awkwardly at the robe.

"Freya, the clothes I brought are still wet, so Lucas gave me this robe.

"I'll take it off and give it right back."

She reached for the belt and knocked over a bone china cup. Water spilled across the floor.

Lucas put down the report, hurried over, and steadied her.

"Isabella, don't move. There's water on the floor. What if you slip?

"It's only a robe. Freya has plenty. If it fits, keep it."

Isabella lowered her head and cried. "This belongs to Freya. How can I just take it?

"I've already upset her by moving in. If I start taking her things too..."

I walked down the stairs and said coldly, "Then take it off."

Isabella flinched and moved half a step behind Lucas.

Lucas stepped in front of her and frowned at me. "Freya, why make such a fuss over a robe?

"You're usually so kind and thoughtful. Why are you being petty about a piece of clothing?"

He walked over to me and reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Don't get worked up first thing in the morning. I had my secretary order your favorite French pastries. Be the bigger person, okay?"

I met his eyes, my chest tightening. "Lucas, that robe is mine," I said, my voice raw.

"If you want her to have one, buy her one. Leave my things alone."

Lucas frowned, then softened his tone. "All right, my mistake. I shouldn't have taken your clothes without asking.

"I deal with the board all day, Freya. When I get home, I just want to eat in peace.

"You'll keep the title, the money, and the status. All I'm asking is for you to give a little. Why can't you see the bigger picture?"

I stared back at him, stone-faced, and said nothing.

Her eyes red, Isabella took off the robe and draped it over her arm. Then she went back to the guest room with her head down.

That afternoon, my mother-in-law, Margaret Enright, arrived uninvited with a pile of expensive tonics.

She saw me sketching designs in the living room but didn't spare me a glance. The housekeeper led her straight to the guest room.

Before long, she came out arm in arm with Isabella, smiling and fussing over her.

"Isabella, dear, you're carrying the future heir to the Enright family. If anyone gives you a hard time, you come straight to me."

Isabella ducked her head, looking flattered. "Thank you, Mrs. Enright. Lucas and Freya have taken good care of me."

Margaret turned to me, her tone suddenly icy.

"Freya, bring Isabella the soup that's been simmering in the kitchen. The doctor says pregnant women are delicate and need looking after."

My grip tightened around the pencil until my knuckles turned white. I didn't look up. "We have a housekeeper."

Margaret slammed her cane against the tile. "I'm asking you, not the housekeeper!

"You're Lucas's wife. She's going through all this to give you a child. Is bringing her a bowl of soup beneath you?"

Lucas sat across from us, reading emails. He barely glanced up. "Freya, don't make a scene. Mom hardly ever visits. Just do as she asks."

"Lucas, Mrs. Enright, please don't give Freya a hard time because of me!"

Isabella hurried to the coffee table and reached for the steaming bowl, looking at me with tear-filled eyes.

"Freya, of course you resent me. I should be the one taking care of you. As long as you'll accept this baby..."

She shoved the scalding bowl at me. The smell of the herbs turned my stomach, and I knocked it away!

Crash! The bowl shattered, and scalding soup splashed everywhere.

Isabella screamed and stumbled back. A folded piece of paper slipped from her pocket and landed on the wet tile.

I glanced down. The paper soaked up the soup and unfolded.

The clinic named at the top wasn't the leading fertility center Lucas kept mentioning.

It was a tiny, out-of-the-way women's clinic in the suburbs, one I'd never heard of.

In the blurry diagnosis section, the number of weeks clearly didn't match an embryo transfer six months earlier.

I didn't get a chance to read the details below or make out the doctor's signature.

Margaret's expression changed. She snatched up the paper, crushed it in her fist, and shoved it into Isabella's pocket. Her eyes darted, and she shrieked to cover it up.

"What are you looking at? You vicious woman! You can't give us an heir yourself, and you have the nerve to take it out on Isabella!

"If anything happens to the baby she's carrying, I'll never forgive you!"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Lucas yanked me back.

He gripped my wrist, his face darkening. "Enough, Freya. Mom has high blood pressure, and Isabella's pregnant. Neither of them can take this kind of stress. Who exactly is this little show for?!"

I met his icy gaze. It hurt, but I said each word slowly and clearly. "What about me? Do I just deserve to be humiliated?"