Chapter 52
I lean against the doorframe, deliberately relaxed, like I couldn’t care less about whatever he thinks is so important. “Here’s the thing,” I say, voice easy, almost bored. “She doesn’t need you, Zane. She never did. That’s just the story you keep telling yourself so you can sleep at night.”
His nostrils flare, but I don’t give him a chance to respond.
“And if you really think I’m about to let you anywhere near her after what you pulled? You’re even dumber than I thought.” I grin, all teeth. “So why don’t you do us both a favour and turn around before I decide to remind you exactly why I don’t like you?”
At the sound of heels against the floor, we both look up at the newcomers and freeze in our tracks. For completely different
reasons.
Becca and a petite red–head walk up to us. The former has a pained look in her eyes. “Babe, what are you doing here?”
BECCA
Sometimes, I wonder why I even try.
A year and a half ago, I stared down at those two pink lines, my hands shaking, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I was finally going to be a mother. Just like I’d always
dreamed of.
But dreams are funny things, aren’t they?
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Because the reality was nothing like the fairytale I’d imagined.
The father of my baby–the man I loved–wasn’t the man I thought he was. He hadn’t just broken up with his girlfriend of ten years like he’d claimed. No, he was still with her. Still choosing her.
But he had an excuse, of course. She’s fragile, he told me. If I leave too soon, she might do something to herself. Just be patient, Becca. Just wait.
So I did.
I counted the days, the weeks, the months, waiting for the moment he’d finally be mine.
But when my belly grew and my career stalled, when I had to disappear from the world to hide my pregnancy–where was he then?
Not with me.
I gave up job offers. I went on a year–long hiatus. I spent my pregnancy in seclusion, my body changing, my life shifting in ways I wasn’t prepared for.
And he wasn’t there.
But I told myself it was worth it. That he loved me. That once he finally let go of Emilia, we’d be a family.
Except Emilia wasn’t the one holding on.
He was.
And when the time came–when I lay in that rundown clinic, too
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terrified to go to a real hospital in case someone recognized me, too terrified to go through labor alone, too terrified of the pain and the scalpel and the hollow ache in my chest–where was he then?
Not with me
So tell me, why is it wrong to ask him to take responsibility?
Why is it wrong to ask him to choose? Me and my daughter or Emilia?
Because I chose him. I chose him every single time.
So why couldn’t he choose me?
Why couldn’t he choose Lolo?
Why can’t I hate her?
The woman he loves more than his fiancée. More than his daughter.
Maybe I deserve this. Maybe I was stupid for falling for his lies, for believing he’d ever choose me. But what did Lolo do to deserve this? What did my perfect, innocent baby girl do to be born into a life where her father treats her like a burden instead of a blessing?
I hear the pain in my own voice, and I hate it. I hate how weak it makes me sound. I hate that I care when I should be furious.
Why can’t anything ever go my way?
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Why do I always lose just when I think I’ve won?
And why the fuck is the man I’m supposed to marry standing in front of her suite, arguing with her boyfriend over his right to see
her?
A cold chill runs through me as I take in the scene–the tension in his shoulders, the desperate edge in his voice.
This isn’t just some unresolved ex drama.
This is obsession.
And I’m the idiot who thought I could change him.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I force my voice to be steady, light, like my heart isn’t sinking straight into my stomach.
“Babe,” I call out, each syllable like shattered glass on my tongue. “What are you doing here?”
They both freeze.
Liam’s eyes sweep over me, filled with pity. I don’t need his fucking pity.
Zane, on the other hand, doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. His expression is conflicted–like he’s torn between two things he can’t let go of–but there’s no remorse. Not even a flicker of it.
If I had the energy, I’d throw my head back and laugh at how pathetic this is.
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