Chapter Three

I walked down the hall, my mind a blur of confusion and disbelief. My heart felt like it was being crushed under the weight of something I couldn’t yet understand. The word grandson echoed in my ears, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was falling apart.

I forced myself to push through the kitchen, trying to get myself a glass of water, maybe that would cool the raging flames in my heart. But the ache inside me was unbearable.

I heard footsteps behind me. John.

His presence seemed to fill the space, and I could feel his hesitation, his uncertainty. It was the first time today that he wasn’t certain of anything. His mother had won. Tricia had won. And somehow, I had lost.

“Liv,” he said softly, as though testing my name, trying to gauge my reaction. “Can we talk?”

I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t face him yet, not when I felt so raw, so exposed. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about, John.”

“Please,” he implored, his voice almost breaking. “Look, I know this has been a lot—”

“Too much,” I interjected, my voice colder than I intended. “Too much for me to handle. Too much for us, apparently.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I could feel him just behind me, the weight of his words pressing down on us both.

I finally turned to face him. The look in his eyes was familiar, but it didn’t bring me any comfort. It was a mixture of guilt, confusion, and something else that I couldn’t place. “You don’t get it, do you?” I whispered, my throat tight. “This isn’t just about the kid, John. It’s about how your mom has always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like I couldn’t give you the one thing she wanted from me: a child.”

I saw his face tighten, a flash of regret crossing his features. But I wasn’t finished. “And now? Now, she gets what she wanted. And I’m still standing here, wondering what place I even have in your life anymore.”

John stepped forward, but I held up my hand, stopping him. “No. Don’t come closer. I need to think. I need to process this… because I don’t know how to keep pretending everything’s okay when it feels like it’s falling apart.”

His face fell, and I saw the panic rising in his eyes. “Liv,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “I need you to understand something. This doesn’t change us. You are my wife. And nothing—nothing—will ever change that.”

I looked up at him, searching his eyes for any trace of doubt, any hint that he was still uncertain about where his heart truly lay. But there was none. His gaze was unwavering, full of love, full of certainty.

“I don’t care if I have a child with Tricia or anyone else,” he continued, his voice low and earnest. “I didn’t marry her. I married you, Liv. And you’re the one I want to build a future with. No test, no child, no past mistake will change that.”

I could feel the tension in my chest easing, a weight lifting as his words wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. My heart slowed its frantic beating, and for the first time today, I felt a flicker of peace.

“But your mother—” I started, but he cut me off gently.

“She can’t tear us apart,” he said, his hand reaching for mine, squeezing it gently. “You and me? We’re solid. We always have been. We’ll figure this out, Liv. Together. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible as the emotion choked me up. I felt a flicker of hope, something I hadn’t felt in days.

He smiled, leaning in to kiss me gently. “Let’s get through this, okay? Let’s not let anyone or anything take what we have.”

I nodded, my heart lifting, finally feeling like I wasn’t alone in this chaos. “Okay,” I murmured.

But then, just as I began to feel the calm settle over me, John’s phone rang. He glanced at it, his brow furrowing as he excused himself to take the call. I watched him walk away,

I turned toward the sink, filling a glass with water, when the door creaked behind me.

My heart skipped a beat.

Tricia.

What does she want now? I thought bitterly. She was probably here to mock me—I was sure of it.

She strolled into the kitchen, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, her eyes sweeping the room like she suddenly owned the place. There was something unsettling about the way she moved, like a surge of power and entitlement had consumed her. A slow, sheepish smile curled on her lips as she leaned against the countertop, arms folded across her chest.

“So, what now?” she taunted, her voice dripping with amusement. “Do I have to spell it out, or will you take the hint? You don’t belong here anymore.”

I scoffed, gripping the glass a little too tightly.

“Liv… or whatever your name is,” she sneered, her gaze flicking over me with barely disguised contempt. “I’d suggest you start packing your shit because my son and I”—she deliberately emphasized son—“cannot keep living with a barren whore like you. Honestly, you and I both know you’re of no use to John. Other than as his personal sex toy.”

The words struck like a slap.

My stomach churned. My jaw clenched. A fire ignited in my chest, a chaotic swirl of emotions—anger, despair, humiliation. Every fiber of my being screamed to retaliate, to wipe that smug expression off her face.

But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

I exhaled sharply, forcing the fury back down. “You show up here, five years later, with a child you claim is John’s, just to threaten me?” My voice was steady, but each word dripped with venom.

Tricia smirked, stepping closer until we were nearly chest to chest, her piercing blue eyes locking onto mine.

“Claim?” she echoed, tilting her head mockingly. “Confirmed is the word you’re looking for. The DNA test proved it.”

Her gaze flickered downward, slowly trailing over me, scrutinizing every inch as if assessing damaged goods.

“And second,” she continued, lowering her voice, “you still think this is your home?”

Then she laughed—loud, cruel, piercing.

The sound cut through me like a jagged blade.

Tricia took a step back, her laughter fading into a smirk. “Not for long,” she promised, her voice a whisper of menace. “Not for f**king long.”

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I stood frozen for a moment before my knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the cold kitchen tiles. My hands shot up, covering my face, trying to trap the tears before they fell.

But it was useless.

It wasn’t just his mother who despised me. Now, his baby mama had joined the fight.

Two against one.

How the hell was I supposed to survive in this house.