Lizzie gave a bitter smile.Yes, in her past life, she had been nothing more than a jealous shrew—pinned to the pillar of shame by Cedric himself.During her pregnancy, he had wielded that accusation daily, forcing her to leave him, to leave this home. He never uttered the word divorce, but only because he prized his reputation too much to play the heartless husband in the eyes of others.Back then, she had been tormented, stripped of her dignity, reduced to a shell of a woman. In the end, she hadn't escaped her fate."So," she asked again, "do you still love me or not?"Cedric threw off the quilt and got out of bed, his tone cold. "Stop asking brainless questions. What you need is rest. I'll sleep in the guest room."He was fleeing—fleeing blindly, without even looking back.…Morning came.When Lizzie came downstairs, Susan was in the kitchen, apron tied, fumbling her way through breakfast.Cedric stood at the doorway, arms folded, watching her clumsy but endearing efforts.
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