The hint of a smile froze on Calvin's face.[Eight weeks pregnant.]When? Why hadn't she said anything? Was she skipping treatment to keep the baby? Was she seriously risking everything?Frustration kicked in hard. "Where did Angela go?"The housekeeper stalled, then shrugged. "That woman left with her bags this morning. Didn't say where."Calvin's jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean 'that woman'? Who is she?"The housekeeper flinched, shot a nervous look at Gianna, then mumbled, "Sorry. I meant Mrs. Buxton. She left this morning. With her luggage."Calvin stared at the housekeeper, but Angela's words from last night hit harder: "And you didn't used to just stand there while people bullied me."He used to think slapping the title "Mrs. Buxton" on her meant she'd automatically get the respect that came with it. But truth was, without his backing, she was just decor—pretty, silent, invisible.Too late now.Gianna, sensing the shift, leaned in to peek at the notebook
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