Chapter 3

Natalie Montgomery's POV

I clutched the phone as another contraction hit, leaving me struggling to catch my breath.

"Tell Ethan… Tell him I'm in labor." I gasped over the phone.

Mason went silent. A moment later, I heard him lower his voice and speak to someone nearby.

Then Ethan came on the line.

"Natalie, what are you trying to pull now? You're not even due until next month. If you think pretending to be in labor is going to make me come running back to you, forget it. Vanessa's condition is unstable right now. I don't have time for another one of your stunts."

So that was who I'd become in his eyes—a jealous, desperate woman who would do anything for his attention.

Apparently, he thought I was even capable of using our own baby's life to manipulate him.

The realization shattered what little strength I had left.

Grief and despair crashed over me all at once, and my vision went dark.

I knew nothing at all.

I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious when the sound of a baby's cries finally pulled me awake.

A nurse approached my bed with a tiny bundle in her arms and gently placed her beside me. "Congratulations. You have a beautiful baby girl."

I stared down at the tiny, wrinkled little face, and tears filled my eyes.

My daughter. She was here.

For one foolish moment, I wanted to tell Ethan that, whatever had happened between us, she was still his daughter too.

I reached for my phone. The moment I unlocked the screen, a breaking-news notification appeared.

The headline read, "Billionaire Ethan Thamson Spotted at Hospital Late at Night with First Love. Expectant Couple Looks Happier Than Ever."

The photo beneath it showed Ethan carefully supporting Vanessa as they walked through the hospital. His head was tilted toward her, his expression filled with a tenderness I'd spent eight years believing belonged to me.

I already knew he'd betrayed me and that he'd chosen her.

But seeing it with my own eyes still broke something inside me.

Tears spilled silently down my cheeks as my fingers twisted into the bedsheet. After a long moment, I tossed the phone aside.

Three days later, after making sure that Vanessa was settled, Ethan finally showed up at my hospital room.

He looked thinner than the last time I'd seen him, with faint shadows beneath his eyes.

By then, he'd learned that I'd gone through labor and delivered our daughter without him. He walked to my bedside and held out a check, exhaustion and guilt written across his face.

"Natalie, I'm sorry. I should've been here when you and our daughter needed me most. And I never should've said those things to you."

I said nothing.

Ethan reached for my hand, but I didn't move to meet him.

"Natalie, please don't be mad at me. I know I screwed up. But I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen.

"Six months ago, I got drunk. I ran into Vanessa outside a bar, and some guy was giving her trouble… And one thing led to another. But it only happened once. Just once. I never imagined she would end up pregnant.

"Please believe me, Natalie. You're the one I love. You always have been."

He spoke as though his words could somehow fix everything.

"Once Vanessa has the baby, I'll give her enough money to start over somewhere else. Then I'll cut her out of my life for good.

"And after that, it'll be the three of us—you, me, and our baby girl. We can put all of this behind us and be a family again."

As if he'd only just remembered something, Ethan's gaze drifted past me toward the bassinet. "Our daughter… How is she?"

He took a couple of steps forward, something almost hopeful flickering across his face. "Can I… hold her?"

I immediately stepped between him and the baby. "Don't touch her with the same hands you used to betray me, Ethan. You don't deserve to call yourself her father."

He froze. "Natalie, I know you're still mad at me. But she's my daughter too—"

His phone suddenly rang, cutting him off.

Ethan answered irritably, "What?"

A second later, his expression changed.

"What did you just say? How did she become anemic? Alright. I understand. I'll take care of it."

He ended the call. Whatever guilt he'd shown me moments ago vanished without a trace, replaced by urgency and barely concealed panic.

My stomach dropped. I didn't know what had happened yet, but a terrible feeling told me I wouldn't like what came next.