*Lucas is going to be so happy,* she thought, pressing a hand to her flat stomach. *This is the miracle we needed.*
Things between them had been cold for a long time. She knew that. But a baby could change everything. A baby had brought them together once, and it could bring them back.
She spent the whole day in the kitchen. Roast lamb, creamy mashed potatoes, garlic asparagus, and the chocolate cake he loved but never admitted he loved. By six o'clock, the dining table glowed with candlelight, and the aroma of his favorite dishes filled the mansion.
She smoothed down her cream dress and checked her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her hands trembled slightly.
She picked up her phone and called him.
It rang until it cut off.
She called again. Nothing.
*He's probably stuck in a meeting,* she told herself. *The CEO of Hartwell Group doesn't get to leave early.*
She sat down at the table. Seven o'clock came, then eight. The candles burned low. The food went cold. The only sound in the vast house was the slow ticking of the grandfather clock.
At a quarter past ten, the front door finally opened.
Eve jumped from her chair, and relief flooded her chest. "Welcome home, honey!" She rushed toward him with a bright smile.
Lucas Hartwell walked past her like she was a piece of furniture.
His shoulder brushed hers hard enough to push her aside. His face was carved from ice. No smile. No glance at the table she had spent all day setting.
Her smile faltered. "Lucas? Are you okay? Did something happen at the office?"
He didn't answer. He walked straight into the living room, and she hurried after him, her heart skipping.
"Lucas, what's wrong?"
He turned, pulled a folded document from inside his jacket, and dropped it on the glass coffee table.
"Read it."
Eve picked it up with shaking fingers. The title was printed in bold black letters.
**DIVORCE AGREEMENT.**
The paper slipped from her hand. "What... what is this?"
"What does it look like?" His voice was flat and sharp.
"I... Lucas, I don't..." She couldn't form a sentence.
"I want a divorce."
The words hit her like a slap. Cold sweat prickled down her back. *No. Not tonight. Not on our anniversary.*
"Why?" Her voice cracked. "I know things haven't been good between us, but we can work it out. We can go to counseling. We can..."
"It's too late." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Freya is back."
Eve's blood ran cold.
*Freya Lancaster.* The woman whose name had haunted this marriage from the first day.
"Freya's back?" she whispered. "And that's why..."
"Don't act surprised." Lucas's eyes turned to knives. "She's the only woman I've ever loved, and you know it. You took her place by trapping me with a pregnancy. You ran to my mother and made her threaten my inheritance so I would marry you. Do you know what the last three years have been like? Hell. Living with you has been hell."
Each word cut deeper than the last.
Tears spilled down Eve's cheeks. "That's not true. I never ran to anyone. Madam Hartwell was the one who insisted we marry. I never asked for it!"
"Save it."
"Lucas, please." She grabbed his sleeve, and he pulled it away like her touch burned him. "I did everything for you. I loved you. I took care of you every single day..."
"I never asked you to." His tone was merciless. "My mother is dead. Freya is back. I don't see any reason to keep you here."
Eve's chest felt like it was caving in. She had known he didn't love her. She had *known.* But some stubborn part of her had always hoped that one day, he would look at her and finally see.
Her hand moved to her stomach. *Tell him. Tell him now. He'll change his mind.*
"Lucas, wait. I have something important to tell you. Something that..."
"I'm not interested." He checked his watch. "I have to get back to the office. I've already signed. You have three days to sign your part and get out of my house."
He walked to the door and didn't look back.
It closed with a quiet click.
And Eve sank to the floor, still holding the clinic paper in her pocket, and cried until she couldn't breathe.
---
She didn't know how long she sat there.
"Oh, please. Don't act so heartbroken."
The voice came from the dining room. Eve lifted her head slowly.
Brielle Hartwell, Lucas's stepsister, leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips. Her red nails tapped against her elbow.
"Did you really think my handsome, rich brother would stay with a nobody like you?" Brielle strolled in and dropped into Eve's chair at the head of the table. "I told you it was only a matter of time."
Eve wiped her face and stood. She said nothing.
Brielle was the illegitimate daughter of Lucas's father, and she had hated Eve from the day she moved into the mansion. She was also Freya's best friend, and she never missed a chance to remind Eve she didn't belong.
"Lucas has loved Freya since they were kids," Brielle went on, pulling the cake toward her and cutting a thick slice with Eve's own knife. "She comes from a real family. You? You're a church rat. A poor orphan who pretended to be pregnant to get your hands on my family's money."
Every word was a needle. But Eve had heard it all before.
*I never wanted his money. I never wanted any of this. Our drinks were spiked on that business trip. I was a victim, too.*
She remembered it clearly. The hotel room, the headaches, the headlines the next morning. Lucas had asked her to play his fiancée for a few weeks until the scandal faded. Then two lines had appeared on a test, and Madam Hartwell had refused to let her grandchild be born outside marriage.
And Freya? Freya had been caught in another man's arms long before any of it. But somehow, that was Eve's fault, too.
She wanted to say all of it. But she knew how this went. If she spoke, Brielle would run to Lucas with a twisted story, and he would ignore Eve for days.
Only Madam Hartwell had ever protected her. And Madam Hartwell was gone.
"Lucas loves me," Eve said quietly, though her voice shook. "He's under stress. He would never really leave me."
Brielle burst out laughing. "Keep dreaming, sweetheart."
Eve picked up the divorce papers and walked out of the room with her head high and her heart in pieces.
She sat by her bedroom window all night, holding her phone. Every buzz made her jump. Every silence made her ache.
*I'll fight for him,* she told herself. *I'll make him remember why he married me.*
---
Two days passed.
Lucas didn't come home. He didn't call. He didn't answer a single one of her seventy-three messages.
"Mrs. Hartwell, you haven't eaten since yesterday." Gloria, the maid, pushed a tray of soup onto the stool by her bed. Her eyes were full of worry. "Please. You'll make yourself sick."
"Leave it there," Eve whispered, her eyes locked on her phone.
Gloria sighed and was about to speak when the screen lit up.
Eve's heart leaped. *Lucas!*
She snatched it up. But it wasn't his name. It was an unknown number, and a single picture message.
Her thumb hovered. Then she opened it.
The breath left her lungs.
It was Lucas. His arm was wrapped around Freya's waist as they walked into a luxury hotel. And he was *smiling.* A real smile, wide and warm and bright. Eve couldn't remember the last time she had seen him look so happy.
Before she could breathe, a second message arrived. An audio file.
*Don't listen,* her mind screamed.
Her finger pressed play anyway.
"I've been waiting for you to come back to me," Lucas said in a voice so gentle it made her chest ache. "I've missed you."
Then came the soft sound of a kiss.
Eve's hands went numb. In three years of marriage, he had never once spoken to her like that.
"I can't stand her," his voice continued, harder now. "She disgusts me. I only put up with her because of my mother. Now that Mother is gone, I can do whatever I want."
Eve's vision blurred. She wanted to throw the phone against the wall. She wanted to stop listening.
But then she heard what came next.
And what he said was worse than anything he had said so far.
---
*