Chapter 3

I made myself walk to the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, swallowed my pills, and finally sank into a heavy, dead sleep.

When I woke again, it was to voices from the living room in the early morning.

"Adrian, without a compatible heart, Irene has one foot in the grave already. Listen to your mother. The Stephens family can't have a daughter-in-law like that."

"Mom, Irene is my fiancée, and she's carrying my child. Don't talk like that."

Lola Stephens went quiet for a moment, then held her ground.

"I don't care about any of that. The point is, your wedding in two weeks—either cancel it, or change the bride."

Something seemed to occur to her, and she spoke again suddenly.

"You and Rosamund grew up together, and you adore Georgie too. So let's just make it simple. Next month's wedding, let Rosamund be the bride. I've wanted her as my daughter-in-law for years."

Adrian's voice was pained. "Mom!"

Lola didn't give him a chance to speak. She pressed straight on.

"Once you marry Rosamund, you register Irene's child under her name. After that, the two of you can tangle yourselves up however you like. But the Stephens family is not having a short-lived daughter-in-law."

"Otherwise, you can wait for me to throw myself dead against a wall at your wedding!"

"You watch me. I do what I say!"

Adrian stood where he was, silent for a long time—so long I thought he would at least, for the sake of seven years, refuse something this absurd.

But in the end, he gave in. He agreed.

He said, "All right. I'll find the right time to tell Irene."

I leaned against the back of the door, my fingertips tightening bit by bit.

That last empty scrap of reluctance inside me was crushed to powder in that single instant.

I opened the door and walked out.

Adrian's body went rigid. He turned, and there was open panic in his eyes.

Gone all night, he'd probably forgotten I was even home.

Lola stiffened too. She looked at me and sighed.

"Irene, since you heard it, that saves Adrian the trouble of explaining. This is where I stand. Accept it if you can, and if you can't, then…"

I cut her off, my voice strangely calm.

"Accept what?"

"Accept being Adrian's mistress?"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and turned back toward the bedroom.

"No, thank you. I haven't sunk quite that low."

I was halfway through packing when Adrian followed me in and shut the door.

He looked at me, awkwardness in his eyes. "Irene, don't read too much into it. Just now I was only trying to settle the elders. The wedding—I'll find a chance to talk it over with her again."

I looked up. "If she never backs down, will you choose me, or Rosamund?"

Adrian said nothing.

The silence I'd expected.

In that moment, even disappointment felt like too much.

I pressed a hand to the dull ache in my heart, took the abortion procedure slip out of my bag, and set it gently on the edge of the bed.

"Adrian, the baby—"

I'd barely started when Rosamund's call came through.

Adrian glanced at me and picked up.

I couldn't make out what she was saying on the other end. I could only hear faint crying.

A few seconds later, Adrian's face changed slightly.

He walked straight for the door, and only when he reached it did he seem to remember I was still packing.

"Irene, be good. Something urgent's come up. We'll talk it through when I get back tonight."

I didn't turn around, and I never got the talk he promised.

Half an hour after Adrian left, I got a call from the hospital's morgue cold-storage room.

The voice on the other end was anxious. "Ms. Winfield, we admitted a severe burn patient. All the exposed skin on your mother's body has been harvested for transplant."

My head swam, my ears rang, and I nearly lost my footing.

I opened my mouth, and it took me a while to find my own voice.

"What did you say…"

"It was Dr. Stephens. After running a skin-match, he forced the paperwork through. I wasn't sure whether you knew, so I called you right away…"