Chapter 3-Let's get divorced.

Lucille drove back to Blossom Court, the villa she shared with Gideon.

When she pushed open the front door, Grace Lewis, the elderly housekeeper, and Nancy Wells, the maternity nanny Lucille had hired, were playing with the baby.

The moment they saw how pale she looked, both women were startled.

"Ma'am, what happened to you?"

Lucille forced a faint smile. "I'm fine. I'm hungry. Please make me something warm."

She took the baby from Nancy's arms. The turmoil inside her eased as she looked down at the soft pink face.

She kissed the baby's cheek, then gestured for Nancy to carry her back to the nursery for a nap.

Grace soon brought the soup.

Lucille had barely taken a sip of the hot broth when several new photos appeared in her work email.

The anger she had just suppressed surged back.

The sender was anonymous.

The images showed Gideon at Rayne's side, from pregnancy through childbirth. The proof was unmistakable: clear shots, intimate angles, taken in parks, hospitals, and restaurants. Every setting told the same story.

Lucille scrolled through them one by one. Her fingers stiffened. The blood in her veins seemed to freeze.

Meanwhile, whoever sent them apparently thought that was not enough.

Her phone rang.

A bright, boyish voice said, "Seen the pictures? While you were pregnant and working yourself to exhaustion, your husband was glued to my side.

"Do you know how well he treated me? When my feet swelled, he massaged them. He worried stretch marks would ruin my looks, so starting in my third month, he rubbed oil on me every day until I gave birth.

"Oh, and I knew that gold charm was your family heirloom. I insisted he give it to my son. He handed it over without hesitation. That should tell you how little he cares about you.

"So you finally figured it out? Ready to let him go and divorce him? You should have done that long ago. A workaholic like you, with no softness and no charm, doesn't deserve a man as good as him."

The voice sounded young and clear, almost cheerful. The words were vicious.

Lucille understood almost at once. The caller was using a voice changer on purpose, afraid she might record the call. Even the photos had been taken from carefully chosen angles, meant to provoke her while hiding the sender's involvement.

After spewing all that poison, the caller hung up before Lucille could say a word.

A violent spasm gripped her heart. Pain tore through her chest, draining the color from her face as sweat broke across her back.

Lucille had known of Rayne long ago.

Rayne was the adopted daughter of Gideon's aunt, taken from an orphanage and raised in the family. She and Gideon had grown up together.

But Rayne had married into the Westbrooks in Coasthaven five years earlier, before Lucille married Gideon. She and Otto Westbrook had then moved overseas.

Lucille had never crossed paths with her. Gideon rarely mentioned her.

This was the first time Lucille had received such open provocation from Rayne. The hatred in every word made it sound as if Lucille had stolen the love of her life.

But Rayne was Gideon's cousin, and she was already married to Otto. She had even given birth to Otto's son.

So why had she suddenly become entangled with Gideon like this? Why had he spent more than a year hiding everything and flying abroad again and again just to stay by her side?

Question after question circled through Lucille's mind, feeding the fury already burning within her.

Then she heard the front door unlock.

Gideon was home.

He saw her at the table eating soup, walked straight over, and sat down across from her. His face was cold.

As soon as he sat, he pulled out a cigarette case, slid one free, and casually held it out to her. "Want one?"

Lucille shot him a look and did not answer.

He had already forgotten that she had quit smoking for the baby. From trying to conceive through pregnancy and birth, she had not touched a cigarette in two years.

Gideon lit the cigarette for himself. Under the table, he stretched out his leg and nudged her knee. "Tell me, was all that really necessary? Ever since you had the baby, how did you become this petty? This unreasonable?

"Otto is tied up in a classified infrastructure project. He can't leave. Rayne is frail and has always been high-maintenance. She grew up in my family, and Otto is my best friend. I had no choice but to look after her more. I didn't tell you because I was afraid you would get jealous. And now look at you."

When Lucille said nothing, he reached across the table and rubbed her ear, the way he used to. "You were never like this before, Lucy. Don't turn into one of those tacky women who think giving birth gives them the right to control their husband."

Gideon had held his position for too long. He always spoke in that lofty, assured way, as if his judgment settled everything.

Before today, Lucille had admired him from the bottom of her heart. She had respected him and had never questioned it.

Now every word grated on her. The anger she had been suppressing surged all at once.

She slammed her spoon onto the table. "Gideon, do you hear yourself? Does any of that sound human to you?"

His expression darkened at once. "I'm speaking to you with restraint right now, Lucille. You slapped me in front of a room full of people, and I haven't even addressed that with you."

Gideon stood. His chest rose and fell as his control began to slip.

Lucille let out a cold laugh. "Divorce me, Gideon. Every time I look at you now, I feel nothing but disgust."

"Lucille!" He finally snapped. "Our daughter was just born, and you're already talking about divorce? Since when did you become like those vulgar women who throw that word around whenever they're upset?"

Lucille looked at him, her eyes turning icy. "You still remember you have a daughter? I thought your heart was so full of someone else's son that you forgot your own child existed."

Gideon froze. It was as if he had only just remembered he had a daughter at all. He glanced around the room, instinctively searching for her.

The sight stabbed at Lucille until her eyes burned. She laughed, sharp with anger. "Stop looking. From the day I got pregnant to the day she was born to her one-month milestone, you never once asked about her.

"You might as well keep pretending she doesn't exist. From now on, she is my daughter alone. She has nothing to do with you.

"After the divorce, go care about whoever's child you want. But my daughter? Gideon, you don't get to lay a single finger on her."

Lucille thought about the first three months of pregnancy, when the nausea never stopped, and every prenatal appointment she had attended alone, along with the fear that crept through her each time a doctor mentioned another possible risk.

She remembered the swelling in her legs late in pregnancy, how walking hurt, and how the nighttime cramps were bad enough to make her want to cry. She remembered the stretch marks across her stomach, which appeared because work kept her too busy and too exhausted to care for herself.

She remembered labor, when she lay there alone, shouting through the pain with no one beside her, the postpartum hemorrhage that had nearly killed her, the engorgement during those first few weeks, and the sleepless nights.

At that moment, Lucille's heart went completely still.

What had carried her this far had been the admiration she once felt for this man and the stubborn pride carved into her bones.

But that man collapsed inside her at last. Nothing remained.

Hence, this marriage—five years of swallowed pain and humiliation, five years of love she had once cried over and begged her mother to accept—had no reason to exist anymore.

She would get the divorce, take her child, and cut this man out of her heart for good.

Lucille stood, her gaze sharpening. A faint smile touched her lips as she snatched up the soup bowl in front of her and hurled it onto the floor.

"Don't try to gaslight me again. I have never been some exceptional woman. I'm ordinary. I'm tacky. I'm not especially soft or charming. But I have a basic sense of right and wrong. You don't." Lucille raised her middle finger at him, her eyes hard and merciless. "Gideon, we're done."

The living room erupted.

Lucille flipped the table, then tore the oversized wedding portrait from the wall. She shoved over the display cabinet, and every treasured piece she had once worked so hard to collect shattered across the floor.

Gideon's anger gave way to shock.

And beneath that shock, something changed. The woman standing in the wreckage of their living room was exactly who she had been when he first met her: all fire, all force, unapologetic.

He had not seen her like this in a very long time.