Bruce came straight to the private recovery suite after work.
He dropped his briefcase, washed his hands, then leaned down and kissed my forehead.
"Honey, did it hurt today?"
He still remembered the sharp pain from my C-section.
I nodded.
He frowned and immediately called in a nurse, asking if they could increase the pain meds.
"It's already at the max," the nurse said.
So he sat beside me, took my hand, and gently rubbed it.
I looked at him.
Bruce Brighton.
He took over Brighton Corp at twenty-four. Tripled its value in three years.
Cold, decisive, ruthless in business. Impossible to shake at the negotiation table.
Even his own father said Bruce always played his cards terrifyingly close to his chest.
A guy like that?
No way he'd fall for Zoey's cheap tricks.
***
The next afternoon, Zoey showed up at the private recovery suite.
She was wearing the Chanel set I bought before I got pregnant and carrying a bag of bruised apples. Her perfume hit way too hard.
The second she walked in, she gasped. "Kyla, why do you look so exhausted?"
Her hand hovered near my cheek, but her eyes kept sliding to Bruce.
"Women still have to take care of themselves after having a baby. Look at me. I work out an hour every day. My skin's amazing."
She did a slow spin in the middle of the room.
Her arms and legs were stick-thin. No muscle anywhere.
I watched her and almost laughed.
How had I seriously fallen for this act before?
Bruce sat on the couch flipping through reports without even looking up.
When nobody reacted, Zoey froze for a second, then turned toward the crib. "Aw, the baby's so cute! Let me hold her."
She reached out.
Bruce stood first and picked up the baby. "You didn't sanitize. Not clean enough."
Then he carried the baby into the nursery. The door clicked shut behind him.
Zoey's hand stayed hanging in the air while her face turned green.
I almost laughed.
That's my man.
Zoey wandered around the suite, loudly pointing out every little "problem."
When I still didn't react, she finally dropped onto the edge of my bed.
"Kyla, where's your new Dior bag? It looked so good on you last time. Let me borrow it for a few days. And Mom said your mother-in-law gave you a Cartier bracelet? Let me see it. If it's cute, I'll buy one too."
Her eyes kept sweeping across the room.
I used to spoil her rotten.
Anything she wanted, I handed over.
Now I realized I'd been a complete idiot.
I smiled faintly. "The bag's at a cleaning service. The bracelet? Oh, that's locked in the safe. Bruce has the key."
Her face darkened right away.
Just as she opened her mouth again, the nursery door swung open.
Bruce walked out holding the baby, heading over to change her diaper.
Zoey's voice instantly turned sweet. "Oh, Bruce! Why are you doing that?"
She hurried over, reaching for the baby. "Kyla, seriously, that's a woman's job."
Bruce stepped aside. "My daughter isn't your job."
Then he gave me a look and laid out the diaper smoothly.
Zoey's hand froze in the air again.
Right then, her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen, and a weird blush spread across her face. "Kyla, one of my friends needs me. I should go."
Bruce had just finished changing the diaper. He set the baby down and wiped his hands with a wet wipe. "I'll drive."
Zoey's eyes lit up. "Thanks!"
She reached to hook her arm through his, but he'd already turned toward the door.
Her hand closed on empty air.
After the door shut, I sat on the couch watching them leave, a chill crawling through me.
The satisfaction from earlier disappeared completely.
Half an hour later, Bruce finally came back.
I sat there with my arms crossed, staring at him.
"Who told you to drive her?"
Bruce stopped in the doorway.
"Wasn't it you?"
