Chapter 4

The morning sunlight streamed through the dining room windows as I sat quietly, stirring my tea, watching Eric from the corner of my eye.

He looked tired—more so than usual. There were faint shadows under his eyes, the crease between his brows deeper than before. His hands trembled slightly as he buttered his toast, a movement so small that most wouldn’t notice. But I did.

A few days had passed since I first asked about the orphanage. And still, Eric had yet to take me. He had never been this hesitant before.

At first, his excuses were small, barely noticeable—he was too busy with work, or there were logistical issues with the visit. But as time stretched on, his reasons became more elaborate. Too elaborate. Something was wrong. And I knew exactly what it was.

The child wasn’t from an orphanage. He never had been.

Eric had slipped, and now he was scrambling to cover his tracks. But the most interesting part? He still thought he could win me over.

Instead of arguing, instead of being his usual distant self, he had doubled down on the performance.

More attention. More care. More forced affection.

It was almost insulting how predictable he was.

"Sweetheart, I’m sorry I haven’t arranged the visit yet," Eric murmured, sitting across from me at breakfast, his voice dripping with warmth. "There’s been a lot going on at work, and I just haven’t had the chance."

I met his eyes, tilting my head slightly, pretending to consider his words. "I understand," I said softly, letting my fingers trace absentminded circles on my coffee cup. "I just thought this was important to you, Eric. You seemed so eager before."

He swallowed, his throat bobbing slightly. "It is important."

"Then why can’t you make time for just one day?" I let my voice dip into gentle disappointment. "It’s not that I don’t want this. I just want to meet you halfway. I want this baby too."

Eric’s fingers curled around his fork, gripping it a little too tightly before quickly easing his hold. He gave me a smile—small, soft, carefully controlled.

"I’ll make it happen," he said smoothly. "I just need to finalize a few things first."

Ah. So he needed more time. Of course he did.

Because he wasn’t just trying to buy time. He was trying to forge documents. This adoption wasn’t an adoption at all. It was a cover-up, a deception, a way to insert his mistress’s child into our marriage without anyone questioning it. And now, he had to fabricate proof to make the lie airtight.

I could almost admire the effort. Almost. But I wasn’t the woman I used to be.

I took a sip of my coffee, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him shift in his seat. His shoulders were tight, his fingers tapping absently against his thigh. I had seen this before—the subtle signs of anxiety. But this time, it wasn’t about business. This time, it was about me.

"Okay," I finally said, smiling. "I trust you, Eric."

It was a lie. And he suspected it. Which was why, throughout the day, his attentiveness increased. Little touches on my lower back when we passed each other in the hall. Thoughtful texts throughout the afternoon. A surprise bouquet of my favorite flowers waiting in my study.

It was as if he were trying to make me fall for him all over again. But all I saw now was a man trying to buy time. And it only confirmed one thing: I had him cornered.

Later that evening, Eric sat beside me on the couch, his body angled toward mine, watching me with the same calculated softness he had been using all day.

"You’ve been working so hard lately," I mused, my voice light. "You should take a break. Let’s go see the orphanage together tomorrow."

Eric stiffened ever so slightly before recovering. "Tomorrow’s a bit difficult. I have meetings scheduled all day."

I faked a small frown. "Oh, I see. Then the day after? I just think it’s important for us to see the child together before we make any decisions."

His smile was tight. "Of course, sweetheart. I’ll check my schedule."

Liar. He was stalling. He needed time to make the story convincing. I gave him a warm smile, leaning forward just enough to place my hand over his.

"I know this is a big step, but I want to do this with you."

His fingers twitched under my touch, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in his gaze—guilt. Panic. It lasted only a second before he masked it with another well-practiced smile, but I had seen it.

He was afraid.

Good.

Fear was good. Fear brought results. Fear meant I was in control.

Just as I planned.

I could tell that he was doing anything and everything for me not to bring up the divorce again. I was even relishing the silence since his family had gone quiet, leaving Eric to ‘tame’ me.

I could almost laugh. But not yet.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Eric had fallen asleep beside me, his breathing even, his body relaxed. But I knew his mind wasn’t at peace. Because neither was mine.

I reached for my phone, scrolling through my contacts. I hesitated for just a moment before pressing dial. The line rang once. Twice.

Then a familiar voice picked up. I inhaled slowly.

"Hey," I said, my voice softer than usual. "I miss you… a lot. Can we meet?"