He picked up.
"Lawyer Henson? This is the police department, about your fiancée Nancy Fox and the crash—"
Jerome cut him off, voice flat and cold.
"She got herself into this driving drunk. Handle it however it needs handling. Don't ask me."
The officer pressed on. "No, that's not it. There's a problem with this case. She's—"
"She's throwing a tantrum, isn't she."
His tone dropped colder.
"Leave her be. The Hensons won't shield her. Sentence her however the law sees fit."
He hung up.
But something needled at him, faint and unsettling. He turned to Flora. "I'm going down to the station. Make sure she doesn't cause a scene."
Flora clutched the hem of his jacket, eyes rimmed red, brimming with hope.
"Jerome, you promised me once. You'd take me to the Arctic to see the northern lights."
"Let's leave first thing tomorrow, please? It's my last wish."
His expression melted, and he gave in at once.
"All right."
He sat back down and talked the trip over with her, gentle and full of anticipation.
Baby's eyes were red. His voice came out small. "Mommy, I don't think I like Daddy anymore."
The next morning, Jerome took Flora aboard the Henson family's private jet.
Flora took in the lavish interior, greed she didn't bother to hide.
In the Arctic they watched the lights and rode the sleds, both of them happier than I'd ever seen them.
Baby stayed glum the whole time, little head bowed, not saying a word.
I crouched down and stroked his hair.
"Baby, look how beautiful it is here. Cheer up a little."
He lifted his head, his small face dead serious.
"Mommy, I don't think Daddy and the lady are just friends."
I went still. "Why do you say that?"
"They look more like a husband and wife."
Something clamped tight in my chest.
It was true. All the years I'd been with Jerome, he was forever too busy at the firm, never once willing to walk the shops with me.
Let alone take a month off to travel together.
He said the Henson family kept a strict house, and he slept in a separate room from me the whole time.
Now he held Flora every night, the two of them shamelessly close.
He'd taken so many photos with her, posting them with that radiant smile.
Before, when I'd wanted a single photo together, he frowned and refused.
Said he was the Henson heir and a top lawyer. He couldn't flaunt affection like that and cheapen his standing.
Now none of it mattered to him.
The whole time, the texts kept coming.
One after another, all demands.
"How long did they give you? I checked. A case like yours, a month at most."
"Why aren't you answering? You dare sulk at me now?"
"Nancy Fox, answer me, or I'll cut off the Fox family's allowance."
It was almost funny.
I was dead. How was I supposed to text him back?
My mother's call came through, her voice careful and timid.
"Jerome, the police just called me. They said Nancy died in a crash, that we need to come claim the body."
"What... what on earth is going on?"
Jerome let out a cold scoff.
"There's a limit to how far she'll take a tantrum. Now she's cooking up an excuse this absurd."
"All she did was get detained for drunk driving. How could she be dead."
My mother went straight to placating him. "Yes, yes, of course. The station must have made a mistake."
In the background came my father's low, scolding voice.
"I told you it had to be fake."
"That body's pregnant. The Hensons run such a strict house they wouldn't even let the two of them live together before the wedding. How could Nancy be pregnant."
