Chapter 1: Shattered Vows

"You'll seduce my brother whenever I'm away on business, right?" he spat, his face close to mine, his eyes burning with something I had never seen in them before. Not in three years of marriage. "You're such a whore!"

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I was almost due.

That was the first thing on my mind as I dragged myself back from the market that afternoon.

My legs were swollen, my back felt like it would snap in two, and every step came with a dull ache that travelled from my waist down to my ankles.

Today was our wedding anniversary.

I adjusted the bags in my hands and climbed the short steps into the house slowly, breathing carefully, the way the doctor had instructed me to during the last trimester.

One hand found the railing. One step at a time.

"My child," I whispered, pausing midway to rest. "Today is Mommy and Daddy's wedding anniversary."

The baby shifted inside me, a slow, rolling movement that made me catch my breath.

I smiled despite the discomfort, despite the heat clinging to my skin, despite everything.

"Once you're born, we'll celebrate together next year," I murmured, placing my palm gently over my protruding stomach. "You will join us properly. All three of us."

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, expecting the usual quiet of an empty house. Curtis had travelled for business three days ago.

He said he might not return in time for our anniversary, and I had accepted that with a small ache in my chest. Still, I had wanted to do something. To mark the day, even alone.

I had bought everything he loved.

I stepped fully into the living room and froze.

Curtis was sitting on the couch.

My heart skipped.

"Curtis, you're back." The surprise and joy in my voice came out naturally. I hadn't prepared myself to see him, had not rehearsed a face or a greeting. "You didn't tell me you were coming today."

I moved toward the dining table and dropped the bags gently, already thinking of how quickly I could cook, how I would light the candles I had bought, how tonight could still be beautiful.

"Look, I got you your favorite food. I was planning to surprise you."

He didn't respond.

He didn't smile.

He didn't even look at me the way a husband should look at a wife he hasn't seen in three days.

That was when I noticed his expression.

His jaw was tight. His eyes were red, not from tears, but from something darker.

He was holding something in his hand, staring at it like it was poison. Like it had already done its damage and all that remained was the rage.

My smile faded.

The warmth I had carried all afternoon began to cool.

"Curtis?" I called softly. "What's wrong?"

He stood up suddenly.

The movement made me flinch. My hand instinctively moved to my stomach.

Without saying a word, he marched toward me and flung what he was holding at my chest. It hit me before I could react, and dropped to the floor at my feet with a soft, terrible finality.

I gasped.

My heart began pounding so loudly I could feel it in my ears.

I bent down slowly to pick it up. My pregnant body resisted the movement; my back protesting, my knees unsteady but I managed. When I finally lifted it and looked at it, everything around me went silent.

It was a photograph.

In the picture, I was lying in a bed.

Beside me was Paschal Deveraux — Curtis's half-brother.

Both of us were naked, covered only by a blanket. The room looked unfamiliar. The lighting was dim.

My fingers trembled.

"What… what is this?" I whispered, staring at the photo as if it would change if I looked long enough, as if the image would rearrange itself into something that made sense.

"Tessa." The way he said my name made my stomach tighten. Low. Controlled. Worse than shouting.

"What is this?" he demanded again, his voice hoarse and accusing, the kind of voice that had already made up its mind before asking the question.

"I don't know." I shook my head quickly, still staring at the photograph. "I swear, I don't know."

"Are you that thirsty for a man?" he shouted, pointing fiercely at the photograph in my hand. "Celebrate our anniversary with a bastard?"

My eyes widened. "Curtis, no—"

He grabbed me by the throat.

The force of it shocked me into stillness for half a second before panic flooded every part of me.

I gasped instantly, my hands flying to his wrist. His fingers pressed hard against my skin, cutting off my air. I could feel my pulse hammering against his palm.

"You'll seduce my brother whenever I'm away on business, right?" he spat, his face close to mine, his eyes burning with something I had never seen in them before. Not in three years of marriage. "You're such a whore!"

Tears streamed down my face immediately. Uncontrollable. Hot.

"Curtis… that's not the case," I struggled to say between gasps. "Listen to me… please…"

His grip tightened.

"Shut up!" he thundered, his teeth gritted, his breath coming hard. "Seducing my brother when you're pregnant with my child? Have you no shame?"

"Curtis… that… that's not true," I forced out weakly. My lungs were burning. My vision was beginning to blur at the edges. "I don't know what's going on. I really don't know!"

Suddenly, he shoved me away.

I fell backward. My back hit the edge of the dining table with a dull, sickening impact before I landed on the floor.

Pain shot through my spine like fire.

The bags I had carefully carried home split open, and the bottle of wine rolled across the tiles, spinning slowly before it stopped.

I cried out and immediately clutched my stomach.

Fear, cold and absolute, flooded me.

My baby.

I closed my eyes tightly for a second, pressing both hands flat against my belly, praying with everything I had that the fall had not harmed my child.

The baby shifted once, faintly, and I exhaled a shaking breath.

"You're not allowed to get up without my permission," Curtis said coldly.

I looked up at him through blurred vision. His face was unreadable now. Distant. Like he had already decided something and was simply waiting for the paperwork to catch up.

He turned and walked away without another word.

"Curtis…" I called, my voice breaking, raw and open in a way I couldn't control. "Curtis."

He didn't stop.

His footsteps continued down the hallway, steady and unhurried.

"Curtis!" I called again, more desperately, my palm still pressed to my stomach.

"Stop shouting!"

The sharp female voice cut through the air like a blade.

I turned my head slowly.

My mother-in-law, Rosa Deveraux, was standing by the side door. She must have been there the entire time. Watching.

She walked towards me, her heels clicking steadily against the tiled floor. Her expression wasn't shock or concern.

It was something harder. Satisfaction, almost, wrapped in contempt.

Her eyes fell on the photograph lying near me.

She bent and picked it up.

The silence stretched between us, thin and unbearable.

"You bitch!" she cursed, slapping the photograph against my head. "How dare you cheat on Curtis!"

"Mom, believe me!" I cried, looking up at her with tears streaming down my face.

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, pulling back as though the word itself had soiled her.

Her voice rose as she continued, each word deliberate, each one chosen to wound. "Curtis gave up marrying a rich heiress to be with you, a country bumpkin. And yet, you have the nerve to seduce my eldest son?"

"I didn't do this!" I sobbed. "I swear, I don't understand what's happening. I would never betray my husband!"

She looked at me like I was something dirty. Something she had tolerated for too long and was now finally free to discard.

The humiliation burned more than the pain in my back.

"I have never cheated on Curtis," I said again, my voice trembling but firm, the only firm thing left in me. "Never."

Rosa's eyes hardened. "Leave here!" She snapped fiercely, pointing to the exit door.