Chapter 3

Brooklyn's body trembled, and tears spilled out at once.

She threw herself into Quinn's arms, crying until she shook all over.

"Quinn, don't blame Miss Pratt…"

"I was only trying to calm her down. The place was such a mess, I wanted to call the cleaners in, but she slapped me out of nowhere."

"It's all my fault for making Miss Pratt angry…"

Quinn shielded her against his chest, his sharp gaze landing on me.

He didn't ask a single question. He only spat two words at me.

"Apologize."

I looked at him, and suddenly I remembered that banquet five years ago.

Back then someone had slipped a piece of missing jewelry into my handbag, and everyone was certain I was the thief.

Only Quinn stood between me and them.

He pulled the hotel's security footage, tracked down the dashcam recordings of nearby cars, even went through every guest's arrival and departure times himself, until he'd proven my innocence.

I asked him why he was willing to believe me.

Back then, he'd pulled me into his arms, earnest to the point of reverence.

"Because I know what kind of person you are."

"Even if the whole world doesn't believe you, I'll stand behind you."

"Callie, I'll be your safe harbor for the rest of your life."

But now, the man who'd once turned over every scrap of evidence to clear my name wouldn't even hear a single explanation.

My safe harbor had long since become the knife pointed at me.

"I didn't set her up."

This was the last time I would explain.

Quinn's expression grew darker.

"Callie, don't make me say it twice."

I looked at Brooklyn, weeping in his arms, then at the torn photo of us in the trash can.

The last flicker of impulse to prove myself finally went out for good.

"Think whatever you want."

Explanations are for people who care about you.

People who don't will only think you're making excuses.

Crack!

One side of my face swelled up.

I stared at Quinn in disbelief. I never thought he would actually hit me.

"Since you won't apologize, then as your husband, I'll do it myself and teach you a lesson you won't forget."

Quinn said, his face full of rage.

"As the future Mrs. Vance, you should know how to carry yourself, when to push and when to yield. You shouldn't be so petty. Understand?"

"Brooklyn is simple-hearted. She's never once thought about competing with you for anything. It's you—you keep bullying her, hiding behind the engagement between our two families."

"Callie, you used to be so kind. Why have you turned into this?"

"We're not married yet. You may not end up being my husband at all." I held my cheek, stiffening my neck as I shot back.

Hearing that, Quinn froze for a moment, a flash of panic crossing his heart.

The next second Brooklyn seized the chance to loop her arm through his, saying deliberately, "Oh my, Miss Pratt really knows how to sulk—she'd even say something that petty. You just want Quinn to coax you, don't you? You women and your little schemes."

Understanding flickered in Quinn's eyes. So it was all to make him jealous.

He let out a scornful laugh. "Callie, put away those cheap little tricks of yours. If you learn to behave, I can let you keep your seat as Mrs. Vance."

"But if you don't change your ways and keep making trouble, I can't promise who Mrs. Vance will be."

Having delivered his threat, Quinn left with Brooklyn.

Looking at the wrecked room they'd left behind, a strong wave of nausea rose in me again. A certain possibility came to mind, and I hurried out to buy a pregnancy test.

After fifteen minutes, when I saw the two lines, my whole body went rigid, my mind blank.

Five years together, and I'd always wanted a child with Quinn. Years of careful trying, round after round of IVF, none of it had worked. Now the child I'd waited so long for had finally come—just when I was about to leave Quinn for good.

I don't know how long passed before my boiling heart slowly cooled.

This child couldn't be kept.

A child its own father didn't want would only be unhappy if it were born.

I set the test down on the toilet tank without thinking, turned, and headed for the hospital.

When I saw the exact words on the report—six weeks pregnant—my whole body went rigid.

I bit my lip and asked the doctor to schedule an abortion.

I had just stepped out of the exam room when I saw Quinn coming toward me, supporting Brooklyn.

He held a report in one hand and carefully steadied Brooklyn with the other.

Brooklyn wore a loose dress, an unhidden smile on her face, her palm resting over her stomach, casual and deliberate all at once.

Quinn lowered his head to ask after her, a rare gentleness in his voice.

"Is anything else bothering you?"

"The doctor said it's just normal symptoms." Brooklyn leaned against his shoulder, pouting sweetly. "Don't be so nervous, the baby's still tiny."

Looking up and seeing me, Brooklyn gave a soft laugh.

"Oh my, Miss Pratt, keeping such close watch on your husband when you're not even married yet? You won't even let him bring a buddy to the hospital?"

She turned and playfully punched Quinn's arm, her voice coy. "Quinn, hurry and take Miss Pratt home. She's chased you all the way to the hospital…"

Quinn's face changed. "Callie, you followed us?"

I gripped the report in my hand.

"Is the baby yours?"