The nursery was ready.
Tiny clothes folded in drawers, a green-painted wall the color of spring, a cradle waiting in the corner. I thought soon I’d finally hold my child.
But everything I believed was a lie.
I discovered it one night when I stopped outside Dominic’s study. A file in hand, I meant only to leave it on his desk. Instead, I froze at the sound of voices.
“You’ve been tampering with Lorraine’s medication all these years?” Victor, Dominic’s cousin, demanded.
“It was necessary,” Dominic answered coolly. “She was never supposed to conceive. I made certain of it.”
The words clawed into me.
Victor pressed. “You mean—you swapped the prescriptions? Lied to her doctors?”
“Yes. I told them she had rare complications. I made the adjustments myself. Lorraine thought her body was failing her, but I was the one in control.”
“And adoption?” Victor’s voice trembled.
“She begged. I refused. The Beaumont heir must carry my blood. Lorraine could never endure pregnancy—she’s far too fragile. Besides… Daniela is already eight months along. The plan is sealed.”
My hand clamped over my mouth to stop a sob. My marriage. My faith in him. The hope of motherhood. Dust—nothing but dust.
I staggered back, memories flooding:
Collapsing on the bathroom floor, clutching a negative test. Whispering through tears, “I’m broken. Why can’t my body work?”
Dominic kneeling, arms wrapping me, promising love “child or no child.”
His voice after another failed IVF, hypnotic, stroking my arm: “Lorraine, you’re my heart. I’ll protect you—even from yourself.”
Back then, I thought it was devotion. Now I knew—it was control.
Shaking, I ran into the night, phone in hand. My voice trembled when the receptionist answered.
“I need to schedule an appointment,” I said. “An abortion.”
The woman hesitated. “For how far along?”
“It isn’t me,” I whispered. “It’s the surrogate. I don’t want this child anymore. Cancel everything.”
The nursery, the clothes, the months of waiting—they no longer mattered. If Dominic built this family on deceit, I would watch it burn.
But I hadn’t even ended the call when—
“Lorraine!”
Dominic stormed toward me, fury twisting his face.
“You called the hospital? You tried to erase our baby?”
“I know everything,” I said, cold and low. “The lies. The medication. You made me believe I was barren.”
He didn’t deny it. Didn’t even flinch.
“I did it to save you,” he insisted. “Pregnancy would have killed you. I spared you suffering. And now you want to destVictor our child? Where is your heart, Lorraine?”
My lips trembled. “…I’m sorry,” I breathed.
His anger softened instantly. He wrapped his arms around me, whispering, “It’s fine now. Let me take care of it.” His words dripped like chains. I stayed still, heart pounding with dread.
And then—
The sound of heels against marble. The door clicked open.
Daniela stepped inside, curls bouncing, her belly heavy beneath my silk dress.
I stiffened. “What is she doing here?”
Dominic released me.
Her smile widened, syrupy sweet.
“Oh,” she cooed, “did Dominic forget to tell you? I’ll be living here now.”
