THREE!

Mabel

“What?!” I heard myself asking again. I could feel rage, and sadness consuming me. But I couldn't tell which one will overtake the other.

“It's just a suggestion, Mabel. You don't have to throw a gasket over it,” Ethan said as he walked out of the nursery.

“Where are you going, Ethan?” I asked as I walked out behind him. “We are not done, talking about this.”

“I believe we are,” he said as he headed to the kitchen. “And I have made my decision, Christiana will stay here,” he dropped the words like they won't have an effect on me.

“You just said it was a suggestion!” I almost went crazy. “Now you are making it the law.”

“Keep your voice down,” he said with gritted teeth, and his eyes drifted to the nursery. “You shouldn't wake Jason up, it will be hard to put him back to sleep,” his words felt like a stab in my heart.

My own husband taunting me with the same words his mother, and best friend would use to make me feel like a useless mother.

“I didn't mean it like that,” he said, and I scoffed, and took my eyes away from him. “or maybe I did,” he said as he dropped his cup on the kitchen counter.

“What?” I asked, looking at him. I have been using that word a lot lately.

Maybe because of all the shock I have been feeling for the past six months.

“What's that supposed to mean, Ethan?” I asked him, and he stood in front of me.

“You need Christiana help,” he said, softly. “Especially with the activities that we would be having here in the house tomorrow.”

I folded my arms around my body, “what celebration?” I asked with confusion written all over my face.

“We haven't introduced Jason to the world. That will be happening tomorrow,” he said, and I felt my throat tightened.

“Introduce Jason to the world, whose idea was this?” I asked.

“My mother, what does it matter?” He shot at me.

“It matters that my son will be paraded all over the internet like a damn trophy,” I said to him.

“He isn't a trophy, Mabel. He is the heir to the Hoss legacy, and the world has to see him,” he said to me.

“Then let that happen when he is sixteen, not six months!” I emphaszied my opinion.

“The decision has been made, Mabel. Mother is handling the whole thing, you wouldn't have to lift a finger,” he said, and I scoffed.

“Just make sure Jason bonds with you, tomorrow,” he said as he walked up the stairs. I looked at him with tears in my eyes.

“We can't have you struggling with him in front of the world.” With that he ascended up the stairs, and slowly disappeared from me.

I gasped as I held one of the bar stools, struggling to breathe.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, clinging to the bar stool like it was the only thing keeping me upright. My chest felt heavy. My lungs struggled for air. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing or just surviving.

The heir to the Hoss legacy?

God. Is that all my son was to them?

Not a child. Not a blessing. Just a name, a brand to protect, to parade around in front of flashing cameras and strangers.

Tears blurred my vision, but I blinked them back. I refused to cry again. Not tonight.

I walked back toward the nursery, quietly pushing the door open. Jason was still asleep, his little chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. He looked so peaceful. So unaware of the circus waiting for him tomorrow.

My son. Mine.

Not Claire’s. Not Ethan’s. And certainly not Hailey’s.

I dropped to the rocking chair in the corner and rested my head against the cushion, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.

My mind wouldn’t stop racing.

How did we get here?

How did Ethan go from holding me like I was his world… to handing me over like I was the problem?

And now Hailey… in my house. Breathing my air. Playing mother to my baby.

What was I supposed to do? Smile? Say thank you?

I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve screamed louder.

But I was tired. I was so, so tired.

The door creaked again. I looked up, hoping, maybe stupidly, that it was Ethan coming to say he was sorry.

It wasn’t. It was Claire.

She didn’t even bother whispering. “The event planner is coming at nine in the morning. Try not to look like a mess.”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t have the strength.

She lingered for a second. “Wear something neutral. Black or beige. Something that doesn’t scream for attention.”

I finally looked up at her. “Is that what you’re worried about? My outfit?”

She raised a brow. “Image matters, Mabel. Especially when yours has been... questionable lately.”

I nearly laughed. “You mean ever since your son stopped touching me and started flying halfway across the world with no explanation?”

Her lips curled. “You pushed him away.”

“No. I gave birth to his son and bled for this family. That’s not pushing—”

“You failed to hold your own baby without him crying his lungs out,” she snapped. “What kind of mother can’t even soothe her own child?”

I stood, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms.

“Get out.”

She tilted her head, like I was nothing more than a weak child throwing a tantrum.

“You’re lucky we’re still giving you a seat at the table,” she said. “Don’t make us regret it.”

Then she turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open like she owned the place.

I wanted to scream. To throw something. But Jason stirred in his crib, and I bit my tongue.

He shouldn't wake up. Not when I'd just sent away one of the only people he'd let hold him without crying.

Morning came by really quickly. I didn't even remember when I left Jason's nursery to sleep in my bedroom.

A bedroom I share with my husband Ethan, but it wasn't as warm as it used to be. It felt icy cold, because he wouldn't touch me or face me while he slept.

Most nights he wouldn't even sleep here. The only reason he is here is probably to keep up appearances because of the crowd of people we will be having in the house.

I quickly got up, and prepared myself as best as I could. I finally opted to put on a beige color ball gown.

There is no way I'm going to wear a black dress to present my son to the world.

I quickly ran down the stairs to get to my son, he would be awake now and would need to be breastfeed. Even though he might not accept half of it.

“Where are you going?” Claire asked as she saw me descend down the stairs.

“To my son,” I said, unsure why I even gave her an answer.

“You can't go in there….” She tried to stop me but it was too late.

I opened the door of my son's nursery to see yet another terrifying, and humiliating sight.

Christiana was feeding my son from her breast!