Dominic grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door, his voice brimming with the excitement of a first-time father.
"Come on, let's go pick out baby clothes and a crib right now."
I didn't move. My voice came out cold—terrifyingly so.
"Dominic, we're broke. We can't afford a child."
His spine went rigid. He'd finally remembered the bankruptcy charade he'd so carefully constructed.
Panic flickered in his eyes. He crouched down, pressing his face to my belly, and spoke with forced conviction.
"Just give me a few more days. Things might turn around soon."
A dense, stinging ache spread through my chest. I pulled my lips into a bitter smile, watching his pathetic performance.
A shrill ringtone shattered the moment.
I caught a glimpse of the name flashing on his screen: Kitten.
Acid churned in my stomach.
Dominic silenced the call and flashed me a smile.
"Babe, the little cake I ordered for you is here. I'll run down and grab it—wait for me."
He didn't even glance my way before rushing out.
Tears flooded my eyes. I stood in the doorway.
From the dark stairwell landing came the sound of breathless moaning—and Dominic's low, teasing voice.
"Didn't I just satisfy you? Why are you here again?"
"I'm warning you—my wife is pregnant now. You can't come looking for me anymore. If she finds out and it affects the baby, I won't let you off easy."
A girl's kittenish whimper drifted up, her voice so sweet it could melt bone.
"How won't you let me off? Keep me in bed forever? Make sure I can never leave you?"
His breathing grew heavier. Then came the sound of stumbling footsteps.
I clenched my fists, wanting to storm out and demand answers. Why had he betrayed me?
All these years of marriage, I'd used every connection my parents left me to build him into the respected Mr. Thorne everyone admired.
When his funding fell through, I sold every piece of my dowry and every memento my parents had left behind without a second thought.
Even after he pretended to go bankrupt, I stayed. Through every storm, I stood by his side.
I even gave up the baby I'd wanted so desperately.
I wanted to cut open his chest and see for myself—was his heart made of stone?
The clock on the wall ticked. Rain poured outside.
The ceiling grew damp, water seeping through. The whole room felt cold and hollow.
One in the morning. Dominic still wasn't home.
Three in the morning. Still no sound at the door.