Chapter 2

I don't know how I made it out of that hotel.

When I got back to the home I'd so carefully put together, I collapsed onto the couch, every ounce of strength drained from my body.

The door lock clicked.

Derek pushed the door open. Behind him trailed Chloe, loaded down with bags, and Brandon, who immediately started tearing through the apartment.

"What are you doing here? Get out!" I grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at the doorway.

Derek sidestepped it, his expression dark.

"Get this straight, Audrey—this house was bought with company money."

"That makes it mine too."

"Chloe's been struggling out there in some rental, raising a child on her own. From now on, they're living here."

He turned to Chloe, his voice soft and tender. "Go on, take Brandon and pick out a room."

Chloe put on her most helpless expression and tugged at Derek's sleeve. "Derek, I don't think this is a good idea. Audrey will be upset."

"I'll just take a guest room. That's fine."

"A guest room? You're the mother of my son!" Derek shot me a glare. "She doesn't get an opinion."

Chloe took Brandon by the hand and headed straight for the room at the end of the hallway.

The sunniest, best room in the house.

I'd spent three solid months on that room—painting it with non-toxic paint by hand, putting up cartoon wallpaper myself. I'd even bought a full set of expensive solid-wood nursery furniture, all to welcome the second baby growing inside me.

"Wow! Mommy, this room is so pretty! I want this one!" Brandon bounced excitedly on the crib, his muddy shoes stamping dirty prints all over the white mattress.

Something inside me snapped. I rushed over and pulled him off.

"Who said you could come in here? Get out!"

Brandon landed on his bottom from the tug and immediately burst into wailing sobs.

"Daddy! This mean lady hit me!"

Derek charged over and shoved me hard.

"What's wrong with you, Audrey? He's a child! What are you doing picking a fight with a child?"

My back slammed into the doorframe. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen.

Chloe hurried to scoop up Brandon, patting his back soothingly, tears springing to her eyes on command.

"Audrey, Brandon's just a little boy. He doesn't know any better."

"Even if you're angry at me, you can't take it out on a child!"

Derek wrapped a protective arm around Chloe's shoulders, then turned and roared at me.

"This room belongs to Brandon now! Tomorrow I'm having all this junk thrown out!"

"Don't you dare!" My eyes blazed as I glared at him. "I set this up for my unborn baby!"

"An embryo that's barely even formed deserves a room this nice?" Derek said coldly. "Brandon is six years old and still doesn't have his own room. You call yourself a stepmother? Aren't you embarrassed?"

I was so stunned by the sheer audacity of his words that I couldn't speak.

Emboldened by the backup, Brandon wriggled free from Chloe's arms and bolted into the master bedroom.

By the time I ran in after him, he was standing on the vanity, holding a rough little wooden bear in his hands.

Derek had carved it for me right after he woke up, when his mind was still that of a three-year-old. It had taken him an entire month. His hands had been covered in cuts by the time he finished. He'd held up the little bear and said to me: "Wifey, little bear protects you. Don't be scared."

I'd treasured it like it was the most precious thing in the world. I polished it every single day.

"Don't touch that!" I screamed in panic.

Brandon stuck his tongue out at me, raised the bear high, and smashed it against the marble floor.

A dull crack. The wooden bear splintered into pieces.

"Junk! It's all junk!" Brandon clapped his hands and laughed.

My mind went blank—a high-pitched ringing filled my ears—and something inside me snapped.

I lunged forward, my hand raised to slap him.

But my wrist was caught mid-swing, locked in an iron grip.

Derek wrenched my arm aside. I lost my balance and crashed hard onto the floor.

The dragging pain in my lower abdomen surged violently. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes.

"Derek..." I clutched my stomach, looking up at him in disbelief.

Derek stood over me, disgust written all over his face.

"Over a piece of scrap wood, you'd hit a child? You really are vicious, Audrey."

"Scrap wood?" A ragged, broken laugh tore out of me as tears poured down my face. "You carved that for me with your own hands! You told me you'd protect me!"

Derek's lip curled with revulsion, as if he were looking at someone deranged.

"I made that garbage while I was pretending to be an idiot. Only a fool like you would treat it like some kind of treasure."

"Face it, Audrey. Every single second of those six years made my skin crawl."