“Saylor,” she said softly, “I’m already three months pregnant. Don’t be too sad. Cortland says from now on, we’ll be a real family.”
Three months…
Oh, that’s why. That’s why Cortland hit me as soon as I got pregnant.
He’d been waiting for her pregnancy to stabilize. Once it had, my child became disposable.
Cortland’s expression remained unreadable. He said flatly, “It’s done. The child’s been dealt with. You lost the baby and your health has suffered. The doctor said you won’t be able to carry a second one.”
He glanced at Thalia. “Her child will be the Dorances’s only heir.”
“Saylor,” he added, lips curling into a sneer, “you’d better get a grip on reality. Don’t make a fuss. If you still want to be ‘Mrs. Dorance,’ you’ll behave and take care of Thalia. Stop acting jealous for no reason.”
Blood dripped down the side of my face. My vision was tinged with red.
It felt like every ounce of strength in my body had been sucked out. But still, I forced myself to stand.
My voice trembled, filled with despair.
“Cortland. I want a divorce.”
His face turned dark instantly. “A divorce? You’re threatening me with that again?”
For some reason, he absolutely loathed the word divorce.
Without warning, he grabbed the white box—my baby’s ashes—that still hadn’t been placed into the fire.
“You want a divorce?” he snapped. “Fine. Then let’s start with him. Clean break. No loose ends.”
Just like that, he hurled the box into the fire.
“No!”
I screamed and lunged toward the flames, but they held me back.
I could only watch as the fire consumed the box, reducing it to ashes, until even the final traces had crumbled into dust.
“You’re insane, Cortland!” I shrieked, my voice broken.
He looked down at me coldly. “You don’t get to use divorce as leverage anymore.”
“The money you loaned the Dorances,” he said, “I’ll return all of it today. From now on, we’re done. You have no more say in the company, and no right to order me around.”
“If you still don’t know your place,” he threatened, “don’t blame me for turning on you.”
I couldn’t hear a thing anymore.
I just knelt there in front of the fire basin, watching the thin, weak smoke spiral up and scatter in the wind.
The fire was out.
My child… was gone. Not even a complete set of ashes remained.
His little body, burned with plastic and paper, had been turned to shattered dust…
I never thought Cortland could hate me this much.