Hillary blushed and nodded. "Almost three months now. We checked and it's a boy."
"How wonderful! Hillary, you're our family's blessing!" Samantha hugged her, beaming. Then she glanced at me with thin cruelty. "Unlike some people who haven't even managed to keep a child after so many years." She turned to Tristan, voice sharp, "You'd better take good care of her. If anything happens again, don't bother coming back to this house."
Tristan nodded solemnly. The three of them walked off together, laughing, as if I no longer existed.
"Meredith," Grandma said softly, her eyes full of pity. "The Palmer family has wronged you—Tristan, he..."
I cut her off with a shake of my head and forced a smile. "I'll handle my relationship with him. You just eat well and live to one hundred."
I shook my head, forcing a smile.
"I'll deal with him myself. You just need to eat well, rest well, and live to a hundred."
My words made her chuckle, and she said no more.
After settling Grandma, I turned back toward the banquet. Hillary stood at the center of a glowing crowd, basking in the admiration, as if she were already the rightful Madam Palmer.
I clenched my fists, not with jealousy, but with cold hatred.
"Enjoy your happy days while you can," I muttered to myself. "They won't last."
Just then, Tristan suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind. "I'm so glad you finally came to your senses," he whispered.
I stiffened, instinctively struggling to pull away, until his whisper brushed against my ear:
"I know you've suffered for me. Next week is our seventh anniversary. I'll make it up to you."
He kissed my forehead tenderly. I fought down the nausea rising in my throat and let him hold me—without pushing him away.
Our anniversary fell on the same day I'd planned to leave the country. I dressed carefully so Tristan wouldn't suspect a thing.
The moment I stepped in, he came forward and a flash of admiration crossed his face. "Meredith, you look beautiful tonight."
He bent as if to kiss me.
I batted his hand away playfully. "Not yet—dinner first."
His Adam's apple bobbed and his voice turned low. "Okay."
Under the candlelight and the glow of roses, his profile looked impossibly handsome. He sliced my steak with slow, considerate movements, and for a second I drifted back to the easy, untroubled version of us. The feeling didn't last—grief and cold clarity tugged me back.