Chapter Two

I looked at John, somehow wanting him to tell me I had heard it all wrong. But I hadn’t—and he knew it. My eyes brimmed with tears as I stammered, struggling to find the right words.

“What’s… what’s going on here, John?” My voice was barely above a whisper as I stepped closer, unsteady on my feet. “What’s she talking about, babe?”

His mother paid me no mind, her focus entirely on the child in her arms—the supposed grandson. She was smiling, reveling in the moment as if it were the happiest day of her life. A dream come true. Perhaps even the perfect opportunity to finally get rid of me. And it was working. I felt like the ground had been ripped from beneath me, like a disaster had just unfolded before my eyes.

She had never liked me. That much was clear. But now, this? This was something else. I had failed to give her son a child, and I knew that if I had, maybe—just maybe—her hatred would have lessened. But it wouldn’t have disappeared entirely. After all, I was still the trash her son had picked up.

A voice broke through the suffocating tension.

“And you are?”

Tricia. Her tone was laced with pride and arrogance, her posture exuding the confidence of someone who believed she had the upper hand.

I turned to her, my fury barely contained. A part of me wanted to slam her head against the nearest wall, but instead, I answered with contempt.

“His wife.”

She rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Oh, your mom told me you were unmarried, John,” she said with a smug smile before turning toward Mrs. Luther.

I felt my breath hitch.

“She said what?!” John snapped, his voice sharp with disbelief.

Tricia shrugged. “That you were unmarried.”

“I heard you the first time,” he cut in, his anger palpable.

Mrs. Luther let out an exaggerated sigh. “Ugh, fine. I mean, look at her and look at my son. Do they look married to you?” Her words were cold, calculated, dripping with venom.

At that moment, I knew—I wasn’t meant to be here.

The suffocating feeling inside me reached its peak, pressing down on my chest like a weight I could no longer bear. The humiliation, the years of silent suffering I had endured for the sake of this marriage—it was too much. My vision blurred as hot tears spilled down my cheeks, unstoppable now.

John moved in an instant, closing the distance between us and pulling me into his arms. His hold was firm, protective. As if shielding me from the vultures circling around us.

His voice was tight with rage as he turned back to Tricia. “You show up at my house—5 years after we broke up—to tell me you had a son for me, and you expect me to just accept it? In front of my wife?”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “When I come back down, I don’t want to see you here anymore.”

And with that, he led me upstairs, away from the chaos.

Away from the wreckage his mother had orchestrated.

“You need to stop crying, Liv,” John murmured, his thumb gently wiping the tear trailing down my cheek.

I sniffled, sitting upright on the bed, trying to steady myself. I’m married now. And married people go through things. I repeated the words in my head like a mantra, willing myself to believe them.

“That’s right, my tough girl.” He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. I let out a breathy laugh too because we both knew he had caught me trying to mask my emotions.

“John, this isn’t funny,” I said, my smile fading almost instantly.

“It’s not?” He grinned sheepishly, but the sharp look I shot him made his smirk falter.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, babe,” he said quickly, pressing a tender kiss against my lips. “But come on, Liv—someone just shows up with an 5-year-old and says he’s mine? Just like that?” His voice carried the weight of disbelief, frustration, and something else… fear, maybe.

I inhaled deeply, choosing my words carefully. “It might be yours, John. And besides…you’ve always wanted to be a father. This could be your chance—since I…” My throat tightened, and my voice trailed off. A lone tear slipped free before I could stop it.

“No, no… don’t do that,” John whispered, his fingers tracing soft circles against my damp cheek. “Don’t ever say that, babe.” His voice was firm yet laced with tenderness.

“We will have babies. Lots of them.” Then, as if sensing the heaviness creeping back in, he smirked. “Or maybe just three… or two.”

I let out a weak chuckle, shaking my head. That was John—always inserting humor where my mind only saw chaos.

His expression sobered as he leaned in, his forehead nearly touching mine. “Look, Liv, I hate seeing you like this.” His voice was raw now, filled with emotions he rarely laid bare. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we’ll get a DNA test. And once and for all, you’ll see that boy isn’t mine. Then I’ll finally get my Liv back.” His optimism was unshaken, unwavering.

I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. But I was a realist. And in a situation like this… anything could happen.

I swallowed hard and took his hands in mine, lowering my gaze. “John, promise me something.”

He tilted his head. “Anything.”

“No matter what the result says… promise me this won’t change us,” I whispered. “Maybe it will, maybe it has to… but don’t let it break us.”

His fingers tightened around mine. “Liv.” He said my name like a vow. “I love you more than you can ever imagine. Nothing—absolutely nothing—can tear us apart. If my own mother couldn’t, nothing else will.”

I smiled, but doubt still clawed at the edges of my heart.

By morning, when I opened my eyes, John was already up, moving around like it was just another day.

For him, maybe it was.

For me… it was the day everything might change.

I wanted to go with them to the hospital—after all, if the boy was John’s, I’d be his stepmother. But I wasn’t sure if I should.

Still, I dressed up and headed downstairs. By the time I got there, they were already settled in the car.

John’s mother sat in the front seat, while Tricia occupied the back, her son stretched out beside her as she petted him to sleep. I felt a flicker of irritation at first, but then I noticed the way his little chest rose and fell unevenly, the slight flush on his face. Maybe he was sick. I chose to accept that.

I walked up to the driver’s side window and knocked. John rolled it down, smiling at me as he leaned over to press a kiss to my lips.

“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to disturb you,” he explained, his voice light, unaffected. I wondered how he could remain so relaxed, so certain, while my chest felt like it was caving in from the weight of my fears.

“I wanted to come with you guys,” I said.

John’s mother scoffed. “Of course you wouldn’t—”

She didn’t get to finish. John shot her a sharp Don’t even think about it glare. She rolled her eyes but said nothing more.

John turned his attention back to me, his expression softening. “Babe, I’ll be back soon, and everything’s going to be fine. Then we’ll go to that place you’ve always wanted us to visit when we come to town, okay?”

I nodded, forcing a smile. He lifted my hand and kissed it. I smiled again, this time genuinely, before stepping back as they drove off.

By 6 p.m., they still weren’t back.

I paced the house restlessly, my stomach twisting with unease. The waiting was unbearable, my mind cycling through a hundred possibilities.

Then I heard noises.

I rushed toward the source—the garage. The car had just pulled in.

I stood frozen at the doorway as they stepped out.

If the DNA results had been negative, I couldn’t imagine why Tricia would be returning to the mansion with John and his mother. But I wasn’t one to assume. Maybe it was too late to send them off, or maybe they just needed a place to stay before leaving in the morning.

Still, something felt off.

John’s mother was crying softly, clutching David—who was already asleep—tightly to her chest. Tricia walked beside her, her face unreadable. And John… he was the last to step out.

He walked slowly, deliberately, his expression carefully neutral. Was he simply exhausted from the day? Or was it…

I didn’t let myself finish that thought. Instead, I shook my head, as if doing so could dispel the gnawing fear creeping up my spine.

I stood watching from the window as they entered.

When they saw me, I offered a welcoming smile. Tricia and Mrs. Luther returned it, which was odd. But I didn’t dwell on it.

Then Mrs. Luther spoke, her voice gentle but laced with unmistakable triumph.

“Olivia, darling,” she said sweetly. “Would you be so kind as to fix up a bed in the upper room for David and his mother? My grandson has been through a lot today. He must be exhausted.”

The world seemed to slow around me.

Grandson.

The word echoed in my head, hollow and deafening all at once.

My limbs went numb. My chest tightened.

John finally stepped inside. Our eyes locked, and in that single look, I had all the answers I needed. He didn’t have to say a word.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and forced my lips into a smile. Then, without another word, I turned on my heel and walked away.

Behind me, I could feel their eyes on me—watching, waiting, mocking.

But I didn’t break.

Not yet.