Chapter 3
It was late at night, and Barrett hadn't come home. I lay in bed, looking at the data synced from the cloud.
Barrett: [I'll drop by your place after work. That old hag's been all puffed up since she got pregnant. Seeing her makes me sick. But you? You're still tight and irresistible, Babe.]
Jasmine: [So, are you going home tonight? She was at the office earlier today.]
Barrett: [I'll play along for now. She holds some shares. Once I trick her into handing them over, I'll kick her to the curb.]
Jasmine: [You're such a bad boy, Honey, but that's exactly why I like you.]
I stared at the screen, feeling like I'd been dropped straight into a freezer. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fall asleep.
At some point, Barrett finally came home. He lay down next to me and saw I was still awake. "Sweetheart, why are you still up? Meetings—"
I cut him off, sounding cold. "Yeah, meetings and overtime. Spare me the excuses."
Barrett frowned at me. "By the way, did you find that file?"
"Yes, I found it," I replied.
He started to say something else, but I rolled over, turning my back to him. "I'm tired. Go to sleep early."
*****
The next morning, right after Barrett left, his mother, Freya Kingsley, pushed open the door and came in.
She took my hand, speaking with a gentle but earnest tone. "Winnie, I made you some soup. It's nourishing, perfect for you right now."
She ladled the soup and set it in front of me, then shifted the conversation. "Winnie, you're pregnant and can't really look after Barrett. There are some things you need to be more forgiving about."
My heart skipped a beat. "Freya, what do you mean by that?"
Freya's gaze flickered, avoiding mine. "Men have their needs, after all. If he fools around outside, don't take it too seriously.
"As long as he doesn't bring her home and keeps giving you his money, why not turn a blind eye? Don't let little things mess up the family and hurt the baby you're carrying."
I stared at Freya, her gentle smile masking my disbelief.
Suddenly, I remembered the night Barrett stayed out. Freya had called, saying he'd drunk too much and didn't want to bother me with the smell, so he was sleeping at her place. She told me not to worry, acting so considerate.
The spoon hit the rim of the bowl with a crisp sound.
I looked up at her kind face and forced a smile. "Don't worry, Freya. I understand."
Freya's smile deepened. "It's never easy being a woman. I went through the same thing myself. Bear with it. A little suffering is nothing. Keeping the family together is what matters most."
After Freya left, I found myself checking PureJasmine's page again.
She'd posted a new update: [Honey says he's taking me on a business trip to Sunset Isles. Sun, sand, waves, and us, so excited.]
The post came with a pic of two first-class tickets to Coralren.
That night, Barrett came home and started packing his suitcase. "Winnie, I'm heading to Roeclind tomorrow for some market research. I'll be gone for about a week. Stay home, rest, and take care of the baby. If you need anything, call Mom."
Roeclind? Seriously? Since when did Sunset Isles end up in Roeclind?
I sat on the edge of the bed, gently rubbing my belly, acting all naive. "Sweetheart, I'm pregnant now, and once the baby's here, I won't be able to go anywhere. Can't we go somewhere together while I still can?"
Barrett's hand trembled as he folded his clothes, his face instantly darkening. "Don't be ridiculous. Flying when you're this pregnant? What if something goes wrong?
"I'm going to work, and my schedule's packed. I won't have time to take care of you. Stay home and rest. You were in the hospital a few days ago, remember? Don't make me worry."
He kept coming up with one excuse after another, all to keep me from going.
I pouted, looking all grumpy. Was he really worried about me, or scared I would ruin his steamy rendezvous with his mistress?
He caught my mood and tried to reassure me. "We'll have plenty of chances later. Don't worry. I'll bring you back a gift."
"Alright, remember to bring me something nice," I said, lowering my head and pretending to be hurt.
"Absolutely, I'll get you a designer limited-edition bag," he said, finally letting out a sigh of relief as he leaned in and kissed my forehead.
*****
The next morning, Barrett skipped breakfast, claiming he had to catch an early flight, and bolted out the door.
Barrett's so-called market research in Roeclind was wild.
Jasmine's social media page was basically broadcasting everything they were doing, minute by minute.
There was sunbathing on the beach, popping champagne on a yacht, and a censored bed pic.
Barrett's face might've been blurred, but I'd recognize that childhood burn scar on his chest better than anyone.
I returned to my home screen, found Dorian Hartwell's number, and called him without a word. "Mr. Hartwell, about what you mentioned last time, buying my shares. I'm ready to talk."