Chapter 3

Malcolm’s face went dark when he saw tears rim Ashley’s eyes.

He snapped at me, "We've been married for five years, and you still can't handle something this simple! Or do you have a problem with Ashley? Are you picking on her?"

I tried to explain, but he took Ashley's hands, worry written all over his face. "Does it hurt? Hang on. I'll treat your wound right now."

That was it for me. If they were out of sight, they'd be out of mind. I left the mansion and checked into a hotel.

The day before I was due to go abroad, I realized I'd left my travel documents at home and rushed back.

The mansion was mid-party. Malcolm had Ashley on his arm, and they looked picture-perfect.

Guests murmured among themselves.

"Mr. Thorpe spoils his wife. Look at Ashley. Those designer clothes must cost tens of thousands of dollars!"

Someone in the know cut in. "Are you kidding? Mrs. Thorpe is the one who just walked in!"

The person who'd just spoken flushed. "Oh, really? Her outfit looks like it cost a few dozen bucks at most. That can't be right."

I ignored the stares, grabbed my documents, and turned to go.

Suddenly, Ashley cried out, "My bracelet's gone! Giselle was the only one who went into the room. It has to be her!"

Malcolm tried to calm her down. "Check again. Gigi wouldn't do that."

But Ashley wouldn't let up. "I've looked everywhere! Who else could it be? That bracelet was from your mother. She must've taken it!"

I didn't dignify that baseless accusation with a response and headed straight for the door.

Out of nowhere, Ashley clutched her waist and broke into a harsh cough.

Malcolm hurried to steady her, then looked at me, torn. "Gigi, maybe you should prove it."

A chill ran through me. "How am I supposed to do that?"

I had only a dress on. Whether a bracelet was on me was plain as day.

Ashley shrieked, "Search her! The bracelet's definitely in her dress!"

Security stepped up and started yanking at my dress. I stumbled back, but I was no match for their strength.

All the while, Malcolm kept calming Ashley down and never once told them to stop.

Soon, my dress was shredded, my skin raked with bloody scratches. By the end, they shoved me into the middle of the crowd, left in underwear that barely covered anything.

Humiliation washed over me, and I set my jaw. "Is this enough? Get a good look. I didn't take it!"

"Who knows if she stashed it somewhere else?" Ashley muttered.

Malcolm frowned. "Gigi, people are staring. Don't make this any more awkward. It's just a misunderstanding. Go change."

I shot Malcolm a hard look. After a long beat, I forced a mocking smile. "Fine. You'll get what you want soon enough."

He didn't have time to figure out what I meant before Ashley draped over him, all sugary and sweet. His focus swung to her.

I returned to the room and looked blankly into the mirror. I just kept telling myself, over and over, that I'd soon be done with all of this for good.

As I got to my feet, voices carried in from the next room.

"It's a good thing you found it. Ashley, don't leave your bracelet on the bathroom sink again."

"Okay. It's so pretty. I really hope it's a girl."

"Boy or girl, I'll love them the same. Come here. Let me have a little heart-to-heart with my baby."

"You're awful… Be gentle."

What followed was better left unsaid.

I'd already given up on Malcolm, but my chest still stung. So, the guy who always looked so composed had fire in him, after all.

…

I never thought Ashley would show up at my door.

She flung down a thick stack of photos, smirking. "Giselle, I had no idea you'd put yourself through all that just to give Mal a baby."

Humiliation hit hard as soon as I realized those photos had been taken in secret at the birthday party. A few were brutal close-ups, fixed on the scars tracing my abdomen and the tight constellation of puncture marks.

"Come on, you didn't really believe you can't get pregnant because there's something wrong with Mal, did you? The reason's simple. He doesn't want a baby with you!

"Otherwise, why did I get pregnant on the first try? Only someone as shameless as you would still go through IVF. You don't even know how much Mal finds you repulsive!"

I finally snapped, "Shut up!"

At that moment, Ashley clutched her belly and stumbled back, crumpling to the floor. She yelped and shouted, "Gigi! Don't push me!"

She was groaning in pain, hands on her belly, when Malcolm walked in. It set him off.

His palm cracked across my face as he shouted, "Giselle! Will you just stop?"

My lower abdomen slammed into the stair railing. I lost my footing and went down. Cold sweat broke over me from the pain.

And then came the part that terrified me most—a sudden rush of bright red between my legs. I never really had a chance to recover after the miscarriage.

Malcolm was still seething. He scooped Ashley into his arms and bolted for the door, tossing a warning over his shoulder. "You'd better hope she's fine. I'll deal with you when I get back."

It took me a while to get back on my feet. Then, I saw the visa confirmation glowing on my phone, and my fists clenched.

Malcolm wasn't going to get that chance.

…

By the time I reached the airport, Malcolm texted, "Bring your medical records to the hospital and get examined with Ashley."

I powered my phone off without a second thought. Instead, I mailed him two documents—my daughter's cremation notice and a copy of my marriage certificate with Samuel.

Then, I tossed my SIM card into a trash can and headed for Samuel, who had been waiting.

"Let's go."