His voice dropped, authoritative. "My students are outside. Clean yourself up and come out. Don't make a joke of yourself."

His large hand drifted down to stroke my lower abdomen. "The baby isn't a priority."

The realization that those same hands had just been touching another woman made my skin crawl. I wrenched myself free.

"Not a priority? Or is it just that *I'm* not necessary anymore?"

He froze.

Then he laughed. A cold, dismissive sound.

"Honey, do you have too much time on your hands?" He shook his head. "Stop imagining things. You sit at home in luxury—you have no idea how hard I work to make money. Where would I find the energy to cheat?"

Rage surged through my chest, hot and suffocating.

From dawn until dusk, I managed this home. My mother had passed away, and my father had abandoned me for a new family. I had treated Thomas and his mother like my own flesh and blood. Every cent I earned, I poured into this house.

And in his mouth, my sacrifice became "living in luxury."

I peered through his glasses, searching his eyes for a flicker of guilt.

There was none.

*Thomas Gilbert,* I thought. *I never realized you were such a talented actor.*

"You and Hazel—"

"Professor!" Hazel's voice rang out from the bathroom. "I got my collar wet! Do you have a hair dryer?"

Thomas turned on his heel instantly, his steps carrying an urgency he didn't even try to hide.

"I'll find it for you," he called out. "Dry off quickly—we can't have you catching a cold."

Suspicion gnawed at me. I followed them down the hall, my footsteps silent on the hardwood.

Outside the bathroom door, I heard words that made my blood run cold.

"Mr. Gilbert! How can I face anyone now? You tore it—you owe me!"

"If it's ruined, I'll give you one of Elise's."

"What if she finds out?"

"She has no family, no backing in this city. Even if she finds out, she wouldn't dare make a scene."

The noises from the bathroom mingled with the drone of the hair dryer—a cacophony that made my ears ring.

I didn't dare imagine what they were doing behind that frosted glass.

Even when we were most in love, he had never spoken to me with such raw, reckless desire.

When did he become this person?

In the past, holding hands made Thomas blush to the tips of his ears. Now he was brazenly cheating under our own roof without batting an eye.

He had once knelt by my mother's deathbed, swearing to protect and cherish me.