Chapter 2

Dustin tried to chase after me, but Ophelia shouted from behind him, "Dustin, come back! Hattie's crying!"

"I'm not getting a divorce," he muttered to me quickly. "Just go home first."

He left me standing there in a daze. I opened the umbrella, only to find a gaping tear in the fabric—much like the fractured relationship between us.

Rain drizzled straight through. It wasn't enough to kill anyone, but it was more than enough to chill me to the core.

Once inside a taxi, I opened social media and came across Hattie's profile. She had just posted a new video, captioned: [My baby was born! It's a girl, and my husband named her Rosalie Horne.]

My hand tightened around my phone as overwhelming grief surged into my chest. That was the name I had chosen for the child I lost.

Years ago, when Dustin's law firm was targeted by disgruntled clients who sent a crew of hired thugs to trash the place, I had stepped in to shield him and was beaten so badly I miscarried on the spot.

Now, he had handed that name to someone else on a silver platter. My agonizing trauma and the death of our child had been completely erased from his mind.

Tears blurred my eyes as my trembling fingers scrolled down her feed. The day I was hit by a car and broke my leg, they had bombarded my phone with anxious text messages—all while spending the night setting off fireworks with Hattie.

When severe morning sickness left me vomiting until I was delirious, they hired a courier service to deliver soup to my door, while taking Hattie on a week-long trip to Iceland to chase the Northern Lights and make wishes under the aurora.

The man who claimed he was too busy to attend my birthday party had been having a starry-night picnic with Hattie on a mountain peak.

There were over 600 posts in total. I forced myself to scroll through every single one, self-torturing until I was so numb I couldn't shed another tear.

I used to have my doubts, yet I had still clung to a shred of hope. Now that the cold, hard truth was laid bare in front of me, I had no choice but to face it.

They had played me like a fool all along. Pulling my thoughts back, I gently rested my palm over my belly and took a deep breath.

"Don't worry, baby," I murmured. "I will take you away from here very soon."

I went back to my parents' house, intending to retrieve all my personal documents. When I pushed open my bedroom door, I was greeted by completely unfamiliar decor.

All my belongings had been cleared out. In their place was a cozy, pastel-toned princess room. As I brushed my fingers over a seashell lamp on the desk, a sharp voice barked from behind me.

"Don't touch that!"

My parents were standing in the entryway holding groceries, looking at me with clear annoyance.

"Hattie doesn't like people messing with her things. It will make her upset."

"Where are my things?" I demanded calmly.

"In the utility room."

"This is my room!"

Dorothy Jimenez glared at me as she walked toward the kitchen. "Hattie is our goddaughter now. Do you really have to throw a fit over a bedroom?"

I was pushed back against the doorframe, my clothes soaked through with rain and clinging uncomfortably to my skin, yet neither of them bothered to ask if I was okay.

A wave of bitterness rushed up my throat, making my eyes sting. "What about me? Am I not your daughter anymore?"

"How can you even compare yourself to Hattie?" Dorothy replied without looking up. "She's sweet, thoughtful, and brightens up the room like a ray of sunshine whenever she's around us. Just looking at her makes me happy.

"Unlike you, constantly walking around with a sour face like the whole world owes you something. If you hadn't gotten in the middle of things, Hattie and Dustin would have been together a long time ago.

"They've loved each other from the start, but they had to hide it all these years just to spare your feelings. Can't you just be more understanding?"

It was ridiculous that my own mother was asking me to show understanding for my husband and his mistress.

I wiped away a tear with a dry laugh. "Then I hope she takes great care of you in your old age."

"What are you throwing a tantrum for now?" Ichabod Jimenez snapped impatiently. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I got a job offer at a hospital in Belithburg," I said firmly. "I'm leaving, and I'm never coming back."

I pulled out my phone to check the confirmation email. Instead, I opened an official rejection notice from the hospital.

[Following a report, you have been flagged for resume fraud and multiple documented instances of malpractice and bribery. As a result, your application has been rejected, and you have been permanently barred from employment.]