I've forgotten how much he ate that day.
I only remember it landed him in the hospital with acute gastroenteritis.
My junior year of college, my father died unexpectedly.
The pillar of our family collapsed. My mother's medication and my tuition became impossible burdens.
It was Duke who stepped up. He dropped out of school.
He worked day and night, taking any job he could find, earning money to support me and my mother.
"Don't be afraid," he told me. "From now on, I'm your family."
I believed our love could weather anything.
So when the diagnosis came back—azoospermia—I didn't hesitate. I hid it.
I adored children. But I shouldered every whisper, every pitying glance, and told the world I was the one who didn't want them.
Twenty years. We lived child-free for twenty years.
I thought it was just another shape our love could take.
Now reality had slapped me so hard my ears were still ringing.
"Ma'am? Are you alright?"
The orphanage staff hovered nearby, voice careful.
I lifted my hand to my face and found it wet. Tears I hadn't noticed.
The sweeter the past, the sharper the pain.
My phone buzzed. Mom.
"Why aren't you back yet? You said you were just picking up a few things for the child."
In the background, I heard Duke's voice—warm, reasonable, covering for me.
"She's just being thorough, Mom. First time being a mother, you know. She wants to buy him everything."
My blood turned to ice.
Duke had taken that boy to my mother's hospital room.
The phone changed hands.
"Come back soon." Duke's voice was smooth. "The whole family's waiting."
I clenched my jaw until my molars ached, grabbed my bag, and bolted out of the orphanage. I flagged down the first taxi I saw and told the driver to floor it.
The moment I reached the hospital building, I spotted them—Duke and Brandon, walking out together.
Duke headed toward the convenience store. Brandon lingered in a corner, phone pressed to his ear.
I started toward him, then froze.
The voice coming out of that boy was nothing like the sweet child from the orphanage. It dripped with venom.
"Some stupid old hag, dragging around a sick old bat who's practically dead weight."
"Who knows how much of my daddy's money they're gonna burn through."
"If that dumb bitch doesn't know her place, I'll make sure the old lady doesn't last long."
A roar filled my skull. Blood rushed to my head until my vision blurred.
I lunged at him and swung with everything I had. My palm connected with his face so hard my hand went numb.
"Say that again."
Brandon clutched his cheek. His eyes were pure poison.
Before he could open his mouth, something slammed into my lower back—a kick so powerful it launched me off my feet.
I crashed into the wall. My organs felt like they'd shifted inside me.
Duke had come back.
"Delilah." His voice was cold enough to freeze steel. "I've spoiled you so rotten you've forgotten your place."
"You don't want to be a good wife? Fine. I'll give you exactly what you're asking for."
The next day, the hospital called.
"Ms. Taylor, your mother's medical bills are overdue. If the balance isn't paid, we'll have to stop her treatment."
I couldn't tell Mom that Duke had cut off her lifeline.
I went to the payment counter, card in hand. The machine beeped.
Insufficient funds.
I tried another card. Then another.
Every single one had been frozen.
That's when it hit me.
The company we'd built together after our marriage—Duke was the legal representative. His name was on everything.
He'd insisted I stay out of the business dinners, the negotiations, the stress. "Let me handle it," he'd said. "You deserve to relax. Be a happy housewife."
I'd thought that was love.
Now I understood. It was a gilded cage, built years in advance, waiting for the day he'd lock the door.
With nowhere left to turn, I started selling the gifts he'd given me over the years.
Every holiday, every anniversary, Duke had always prepared something.
