Chapter 2

Early the next morning, I went to the hospital.

When the endoscopy was done, the doctor set the report in front of me, his brows drawn tight.

"The ulcer is already very serious."

"Have you been taking some kind of medication lately?"

I nodded.

"Stop it immediately." The doctor tapped the report.

"These drugs are very hard on the stomach. Keep taking them and you could end up with a perforation."

I took the report and looked at the words printed there: severe stomach ulcer.

That medicine, I'd been taking it for nearly half a year.

Back then, I had found out by accident that Clyde actually had a low sperm count.

But I was afraid of wounding his pride, so I never told him.

I only said I had a weak constitution and had trouble conceiving.

I even had herbal remedies prescribed to strengthen my own body,

hoping that way to raise the odds of us having a child.

I laughed a little, and tears slid from the corners of my eyes without my meaning them to. All of this I'd done, and for what, in the end?

Half a year of giving, and what it bought me was no love, only a body full of illness.

Leaving the hospital, I went to the studio.

Paris was pressing me for an answer, so I meant to wrap up the last of my work and then hand in my resignation.

I'd barely reached the door when Summer's voice came from inside.

"Clyde, I want to enter the International Rising Talent Contest this time."

"Fern's whole Starfield collection, hasn't she already had it ready for half a year?"

She dragged out the words, like she was asking for a gift she could just help herself to.

"Give it to me, will you?"

Clyde laughed low.

Through the half-open door, I saw him lift his arm around Summer's waist and draw her in against him.

"I'll go find her in a bit and have her hand the sketches over. You'll be the one to submit them."

"But Fern's been preparing that for half a year. Will she really give it up?"

Clyde let out a laugh.

"She does everything I say. Why would she refuse?"

Summer reached up and hooked a finger around his tie.

"Then I want the originals. If anyone ever looks into it, I'm not taking the fall."

"I know."

Clyde took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

"I'll go find her in a bit and have her hand the sketches over. You take them and submit them."

Standing outside the door, listening to the two of them, I felt my heart go a little colder.

The first sketch of the Starfield collection, I'd drawn it the night he proposed.

That night Clyde slipped the ring onto my finger and said that from then on, every piece I made would carry his name.

And now it truly would.

Only the name on it was going to be Summer's.

Footsteps came from inside.

I stepped back and let go.

The door opened.

Clyde saw me, and his movements gave a visible hitch.

"Fern?"

He glanced back over his shoulder and pulled the door shut behind him.

By the time he turned around again, the panic in his eyes was gone.

He came over and took my hand.

"Why are you so cold? Is your stomach still bothering you?"

The familiar concern settled over me, so gentle there wasn't a single crack in it.

I looked at him and didn't pull my hand away.

Clyde tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear.

"You haven't been well lately. You need rest. We're still trying for a baby, you can't overdo it."

He paused, and his voice went softer still.

"Leave the draft for the contest with me. I'll submit it for you. You don't have to worry about a thing."

I looked at that hypocritical face of his and slowly nodded.

"All right."

I took the USB drive out of my bag and set it in his palm.

Clyde seemed to breathe easier, his fingers closing around it at once.

"Fern, once the contest is over, I'll go with you to see the doctor."

I dropped my eyes to that hand, the one that had once slipped the ring onto my finger.

The drafts on the drive carried hidden anti-counterfeit markers. He didn't know.

The moment the drafts were in his hand, the smile on his face deepened a shade.

Then he made some excuse and left.

I watched his back as he walked away, a cold laugh in my chest.

If it's something the two of you want, then I'll give it to you.

Whether you can hold on to it, that's no longer my concern.