Chapter 2

Jase looked at me, and the warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by cold resentment.

"Francesca, if you had even half of Aria's kindness, I wouldn't have to treat you like this.

"I'll have someone send you another divorce agreement. After ten years together, I won't shortchange you. But you're never to touch Aria again."

"You heard her. She's pregnant. This is my first child, and I want everyone to know they're mine."

The freezing wine soaking my body was nothing compared to the cold spreading through my chest. I looked up, forcing back the tears threatening to spill over, and smiled.

"Your first child? Jase, then what was ours?"

For the first time, he looked stunned.

Four years ago, we had a child—a little girl.

She had been the easiest pregnancy I could have asked for. I was never sick, and she behaved perfectly at every prenatal appointment. Even my doctor said she'd never seen such a well-behaved baby.

I named her Willa Conley.

I'd decorated her nursery months in advance—tiny clothes, little shoes, rattles, stuffed animals. I couldn't wait to meet her.

But when I was eight months pregnant, Jase was taken hostage aboard a yacht. Armed with two pistols, I boarded the yacht alone to negotiate his rescue.

When the shooting started, I threw myself in front of him. The bullet struck my abdomen.

Only afterward did I learn that Jase had already made arrangements for the rescue. He just hadn't told me.

I lost the baby. The doctors did everything they could to preserve my uterus, but they told me my chances of ever carrying another child were almost nonexistent.

I broke. I kicked and hit him. When the grief became too much, I even grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed him.

He never tried to dodge it. He knelt there and took the blade.

Holding me tightly, he had sworn, "Fran, we'll have another baby someday. Once you're healthy again, Willa will come back to us."

Three years passed in the blink of an eye.

Just three short years.

Long enough for him to forget he once had a daughter.

Long enough to forget that, when we were young, he'd nearly died street racing and fighting underground boxing matches just to earn enough money to buy me a piano.

Long enough to forget that rainy night seven years ago, when he carried me to the hospital after I lost my leg, running until the soles of his feet were worn raw.

Long enough to forget the promise he'd made with bloodshot eyes.

"Fran, one day I'll rise to the top. I'll make sure no one ever hurts you again."

In just seven years, that boy who used to panic over the smallest cut on my finger had become someone unrecognizable. Now the knife in his hand was pointed at me.

I wished I could tell the young Jase what had become of him. The girl he'd once cradled like a treasure, the one he'd sworn to protect for the rest of his life...

Years later, he'd become the one hurting her for another woman.

Would that younger version of him feel heartbroken, furious, and unable to believe it?

...

"I'll make it up to you. But don't bring up the past again." His cold voice shattered my thoughts.

When I looked up, all I saw was his broad back as he carried Aria away. It was the same back I'd spent years chasing after without hesitation. Only now I knew I could never reach it again.

But why should I be the one to let go?

Everything he had today was built on the lives Willa and I had sacrificed. How could I simply step aside?

After Jase left, the bodyguards carrying out his orders disappeared as well.

I lay on the floor, drenched in wine. Red welts covered my body, and every breath became harder than the last.

I couldn't die here.

The jasmine I'd planted for Willa was still waiting for me at home.

Bracing both hands against the floor, I used every ounce of strength I had to pull myself back into my wheelchair.

Then I called the hospital. None of them would admit me.

One sympathetic doctor quietly told me the truth—Jase had ordered every hospital to turn me away because Aria had complained that the wine I'd thrown was cold and might have frightened her baby.

In the end, our housekeeper, Rachel Allen, came to take me home.

I took antihistamines and endured the reaction on my own. A full week passed before I finally recovered.

During that entire week, Jase never asked about me once. Instead, he spent lavishly on Aria, buying her a private island and priceless jewelry.

He even built their baby's crib with his own hands.

The caption beneath the photo read: [Baby, welcome to our family. Mommy and Daddy can't wait to meet you.]