CHAPTER 1
Emma's POV
"What about Emma?" Rachael whispered, but her hands were already unbuttoning his shirt.
"She doesn't need to know," Douglas said, his voice cold in a way I had never heard before. "She never needs to know."
I stood frozen outside the conference room, watching through the partially open blinds as my husband pressed her against the table. His hands were tangled in her hair, his mouth on her neck.
"And if she finds out?" Rachael asked, looking up at him.
Douglas shrugged. "Then it's over. I've done my duty, trying for a baby she'll probably lose anyway. I'm tired of planning my life around her grief."
The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers. I caught it before it hit the floor and backed away silently, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces.
This man who had held me through endless nights of tears, who had promised me forever, he was a stranger.
Six hours earlier, I had been kneeling on my bathroom floor, sobbing as I stared at two pink lines on a pregnancy test.
After four miscarriages in three years, I was terrified to hope. Each loss had cut deeper than the last, leaving scars that would never fully heal. But something felt different this time. I was already eight weeks along, two weeks further than I had ever made it before.
"This time will be different," I whispered to my flat stomach, caressing it gently. "This time, you'll stay with me."
I couldn't wait to tell Douglas. We had been through so much together: the fertility treatments, the scheduled intimacy, the nights I wept in his arms. He had been my rock through it all.
Or so I thought.
I planned a surprise dinner at home. Our favorite pasta dish, candles, and a tiny blue onesie I had hidden away after our first pregnancy. I imagined his face lighting up when I shared the news.
At four, Douglas texted me.
Working late. Don't wait up. Love you.
Disappointment weighed heavy in my chest, but then an idea struck me. I would bring dinner to his office instead. Maybe it wasn't the romantic evening I had planned, but we could still celebrate.
I changed into the red dress he loved, packed the food, and drove downtown to his law firm. The security guard greeted me with a smile.
"Evening, Mrs. Brown. Rescuing your husband from another late night?"
I nodded, holding up the bag of food. "Just making sure he eats something."
"The floor is definitely empty by this time of night," he said, waving me through. "You're a good wife."
My heart raced in the elevator, not from morning sickness, but anticipation. I couldn't wait to see Douglas's face when I told him about our miracle.
When the doors opened, the office was dark except for light coming from the conference room at the end of the hall. I walked toward it, imagining Douglas surrounded by case files, his tie loosened, glasses perched on his nose.
But as I got closer, I heard his laugh; deep, genuine laugh I hadn't heard in months. Then a woman's voice, warm and playful.
"You're impossible, Douglas."
I froze. That voice. I would know it anywhere. It was Rachael, my best friend since college. The same woman who had held my hand during each miscarriage, who had brought me soup when I was too depressed to eat, who had sworn to me that someday I would be a mother.
And now she was with my husband.
I crept forward, drawn by a terrible need to know the truth. Through the partially open blinds, I could see them clearly. Douglas's hands were on Rachael's waist, their faces inches apart.
"What about Emma?" Rachael whispered, but her hands were already unbuttoning his shirt.
"Emma doesn't need to know," Douglas said, his voice cold in a way I had never heard before. "She never needs to know."
I stood frozen outside the conference room, watching through the partially open blinds as my husband pressed my best friend against the table. His hands were tangled in her hair, his mouth on her neck.
"And if she finds out?" Rachael asked, looking up at him.
Douglas shrugged. "Then it's over. I've done my duty, trying for a baby she'll probably lose anyway. I'm tired of planning my life around her grief."
Then Rachael laughed. Actually laughed. "Remember last month when she cried because the fertility doctor said she should try meditation? I thought she'd never stop."
"God, I know," Douglas said. "It's exhausting. Sometimes I look at her and wonder what I ever saw in her."
My legs threatened to give out. I grabbed the wall for support.
"At least we don't have to sneak around much longer," Rachael continued. "Once you file the papers…"
"Soon," Douglas promised. "I just need to secure a few more assets first. Her father left her that property portfolio. If I play this right, I can walk away with half."
So this wasn't just about love. It was about money too.
The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers. I caught it before it hit the floor and backed away silently, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces.
I moved like a ghost through the darkened office, grateful for the carpet that muffled my steps. Neither of them looked up, too lost in each other to notice me slipping away.
I made it to the elevator without making a sound. Only when the doors closed did I finally let out the breath I had been holding. My hands trembled as I pressed the lobby button, the pregnancy test clutched so tightly my knuckles turned white.
How long had this been going on? Was this why I kept miscarrying? The stress, the lies, the betrayal poisoning my body?
I drove away from the building in a daze, tears blurring my vision. Douglas's cruel words echoed in my mind. "A baby she'll probably lose anyway." After everything we'd been through, everything I had lost, this was what he really thought of me.
I didn't notice the red light until it was too late. Tires screeched. Horns blared. I swerved.
