Weston pressed a guilty kiss to my forehead. The memory of the office scene curdled my stomach; I slipped out of his arms without a word.
From the corner of my eye I caught the spread on the table and felt my nausea flare again. I forced a calm expression and said lightly, "I don't feel well. I want to rest."
"What's wrong? Are you upset?" His brows creased with concern, puzzled by my coldness.
"Don't be mad," he hurried on, eager to change the mood. "There's a surprise I prepared for you." He led me down the hall and pushed open the nursery door.
"Wife, look—I decorated the baby room just the way you like."
The walls were covered in warm, light-blue wallpaper.
A small crib stood in the center, surrounded by toys and framed photos of the three of us—a picture of what should've been a happy family.
"For our child?" I asked, my voice steady, my expression void of emotion as I looked at him.
"Of course," he replied quickly. "Wife, who else could it be for... besides our child?"
But as he spoke, a flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips.
Blue... that had always been Patricia's favorite color.
Weston, you truly are a hypocrite.
"Wife, there's another surprise," he said hurriedly, as if to divert my attention. He reached into his coat and drew out a small velvet box.
"Look," he said proudly, opening it. "This bracelet has a safety lock. I paid a fortune for it—to protect you and the baby."
He gently clasped it around my wrist, utterly unaware of the chill in my expression.
From the moment I saw it, I recognized the design. It wasn't something you could simply buy—it was a limited-edition jewelry piece, meant to be a gift.
And just this morning, I'd seen that exact necklace glinting around Patricia's neck.
So that's what I was worth in Weston's heart—only fit to receive the scraps Patricia didn't want.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips. In that moment, I gave up on this hypocritical man completely.
I withdrew my hand and reached into my bag, pulling out a folder. "Before you go on pretending," I said evenly, "sign this contract first."
He blinked, surprised. "What's this…?"
"The billion-dollar contract I mentioned," I replied smoothly.
The excitement in his eyes was immediate. "You got it? That's amazing!" He flipped it open eagerly, but before he could read a single line, his phone rang.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the caller's name—Sweetheart.