“It may take a bit more time for your body to fully recover, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Dr. Carter spoke gently, her tone calm and clinical, but the words still felt heavy inside the bright, sterile examination room. I sat on the paper-covered bed, the thin sheet crackling every time I shifted.
“The miscarriage you experienced was quite severe,” she continued, scanning my file. “Your hormones are still regulating. Stress plays a huge role in recovery. For now, you need rest—no pressure, no rushing into another pregnancy.”
I lowered my shoulders, letting myself look smaller, then pressed my hands over my face. A broken sob slipped out on cue. It wasn’t difficult anymore. The grief was real enough—always there, buried deep in my bones—but what I showed them was carefully controlled.
“Oh, Nora…” Marcus murmured immediately, pulling me closer. His voice softened into something almost tender. “It’s alright, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “Don’t cry. We still have time. All the time we need.”
He turned to the doctor with that practiced concern. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll make sure she rests properly. I’ll take care of her.”
“She’s fortunate to have you,” Dr. Carter replied warmly, smiling at him.
I shut my eyes against his chest as that word landed again—fortunate.
If only she knew the truth. That the same man holding me so gently was the reason my body had been breaking down in the first place. The reason I could barely breathe in this house without feeling like I was drowning in it.
That night, the Sinclair estate was dressed in quiet luxury, but the air felt anything but peaceful.
Marcus’s mother carefully cut into her food, her movements precise. “So,” she said coolly, not even looking up, “what did the doctor say? When will we finally see an heir in this family?”
I kept my eyes on my plate, absently moving a piece of food around with my fork just to look occupied.
“Mother,” Marcus warned immediately, his tone sharp but controlled.
His father set his glass down with a dull clink. “It’s a fair question,” he said flatly. “The trust conditions are clear, Marcus. A stable marriage. An heir. Your grandfather wants to see a grandchild before he passes. If there’s no child…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to.
The message was obvious.
“We’re doing everything we can,” Marcus said, squeezing my hand under the table. His grip was firm—almost too firm. “But Nora needs time. She went through a loss. We both did.”
“Time doesn’t stop obligations,” his mother replied with a faint scoff. “And honestly, Nora, you’re not getting any younger. If you hadn’t been careless—”
“Enough.”
Marcus’s chair scraped loudly as he stood. The sudden force in his voice silenced the table.
“You will not speak to her like that,” he said, his words shaking with controlled anger. “I don’t care about the inheritance. I don’t care about the trust. I care about my wife.”
He looked between them, jaw tight. “If you bring this up again, we’re leaving.”
Then he turned to me, his expression softening instantly. “Are you alright, Mo?”
I nodded slightly. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”
“Then we’re done here,” he said.
Before anyone could respond, he pulled me up and guided me out, his arm firm around my waist as if shielding me from them.
In the car, his anger hadn’t fully cooled.
“I’m sorry about them,” he muttered, gripping the wheel tightly. “They’re unbearable. I’d choose you over all of it—money, inheritance, everything.”
“I know,” I replied softly. “You’re good, Marcus.”
A liar sitting beside another liar.
When we got home, music was already echoing through the living room.
Cassie was there again.
She was stretched out near the indoor pool that opened into the house, wearing a bright neon bikini that left little to imagination. Her hair was wet, droplets falling onto the expensive carpet while she lazily sipped a drink like she owned the place.
I stopped at the doorway.
Something inside me finally snapped—not loudly, but cleanly.
“When is she leaving this house?” I asked, voice steady and cold.
Cassie glanced up with fake surprise. “Oh, you’re home early.”
“I asked you something,” I said, shifting my gaze to Marcus. “When is she leaving? It’s been months.”
Her expression crumpled into practiced innocence. “Wait… you don’t want me here anymore? Nora, did I do something wrong?”
“I don’t like her walking around like that,” I said sharply, gesturing at her. “It’s inappropriate. It looks like she’s trying to get your attention, Marcus.”
He let out a short, uneasy laugh. “What? Nora, no. She’s practically family.”
“She’s not your family,” I shot back. “And she’s definitely not mine. She drinks here, she disrespects me, and she walks around like this in my home. I’m done tolerating it.”
Then I turned to him fully.
“Choose, Marcus,” I said quietly. “Her or me. I won’t live like this anymore.”
Without waiting for a response, I walked straight to the bedroom.
He followed immediately, slamming the door behind him.
“What was that?” he demanded. “Have you lost your mind? Throwing her out like that? She has nowhere else to go!”
“She has a brother,” I said, removing my earrings slowly. “She can go to Nathan.”
“You’re being unreasonable,” he paced behind me. “Is this jealousy? Seriously? You’re jealous of a twenty-two-year-old girl?”
“I’m jealous,” I snapped, turning on him, “that my husband cares more about her comfort than his own wife’s pain. I just lost a baby, Marcus, and I come home to that circus in my living room?”
He stopped pacing.
For a moment, silence stretched between us.
Then his expression shifted—softer, calmer. He exhaled and walked toward me, taking my hands gently.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how it looked from your side. I’ve just been overwhelmed.”
He kissed my knuckles. “But kicking her out like that tonight wasn’t fair. It’s late, Nora. And she’s still young… she doesn’t think things through.”
“She doesn’t respect me,” I muttered.
“She does,” he insisted quickly. “She’s just immature. Please… just apologize, alright? For me. I’ll handle her clothes, I promise. But don’t turn this into a fight with Nathan’s sister. He’s my best friend.”
I went still for a moment.
Then I whispered, “Fine.”
That night, Marcus fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the weight of his lies.
I stayed awake.
For a long time, I didn’t move.
Then, quietly, I slipped out of bed—careful not to wake him—and began preparing something he would never forget.
