"He complained about you constantly—how you spent every day locked in your lab, how boring you were. Not like me..."
"I can give him the kind of pleasure you never could."
She tugged the silk scarf from her neck, revealing a trail of bruises scattered across her skin.
Her eyes locked on mine, daring me to react.
"I asked Carter how many children he wanted. Guess what he said?"
"He said the more the better. Because he's going to love our children so, so much."
Nora's brows arched in triumph. She was searching my face for devastation, for the cracks she was so sure would appear.
Instead, I smiled.
A big happy family?
They were in for a disappointment.
A year ago, when Carter and I returned from Doctors Without Borders, we'd both gotten full physicals.
Carter's results showed he would never be able to father children. Not in this lifetime.
Once, in the heat of passion, he'd held me close and begged me to give him a baby.
He'd grown up in an orphanage. All he'd ever wanted was a family of his own.
But fate had played the cruelest joke on him.
I didn't want him to lose hope, so I had the hospital keep it confidential.
For the past year, I'd practically lived in the lab, day and night, developing a treatment for his condition.
One more round of therapy, and he would have been cured.
Too bad he'd never deserve it now.
"Is that so? Then I wish you two all the best. May you pop out babies left and right and stay shackled together forever."
Nora flushed with rage and raised her hand.
I was bracing myself when someone grabbed me hard from behind and yanked me backward.
A palm cracked across my face.
Leila Henson's eyes burned with enough hatred to flay me alive.
"Amanda Henson, you stay away from my daughter! If anything happens to her, this family will make you pay!"
I pressed my hand to my throbbing cheek.
Looked into those eyes, brimming with disgust.
All I felt was the irony.
Six months ago, she'd been diagnosed with liver cancer. Not a single suitable donor could be found in all of Crestfield.
So I gave her part of mine. That transplant was the only reason she was still breathing.
But it nearly killed me. Massive hemorrhaging on the operating table. I'd flatlined before they pulled me back.
When I woke up, she held my hand, called me "sweetheart" over and over, and swore that even after they found Nora, she'd love us both equally.
That hadn't lasted long.