[ BROOKLYN ]“Who did you say is responsible for your pregnancy?”My mother’s voice trembles as she asks the question. She sits across from me on the bed, her face drained of color. From downstairs, the muffled sounds of laughter, music, and clinking glasses drift up. The Armani anniversary party is in full swing.Tears blur my vision. This is exactly how I imagined she’d react.“Lance.” I whisper, the name tasting bitter against my tongue. Her breath stutters. She exhales sharply, like she’s holding back a scream.“No…” Her head shakes, slow at first, then faster. Tears spill as her brows pull together. “No, Brooklyn. Tell me you’re lying.”She moves closer, her trembling hands gripping mine. They’re cold and damp, just like mine. “Tell me I didn’t hear you right. Tell me you’re not pregnant for your husband’s younger brother.”A sob tears out of me. I drop my gaze, my chest tightening until it hurts to breathe. Mascara streaks my cheeks, staining my skin and the expensive dress I w
Last Updated : 2026-01-27
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