Chapter 3

When I arrived at Grant Manor in the evening, Lane's mom, Maria, was already sitting on the couch with Yvonne.

"Why do you look so pale?" Maria asked, worry in her voice. "Have you not been eating properly again?"

Yvonne snuggled up to her, acting spoiled. "I'm fine, Maria."

Maria's heart ached for her. "Your health comes first. Don't act reckless because you're young."

She turned to her son. "Lane, you need to take better care of Yvonne."

Lane took off his coat. "Got it."

Only then did Maria notice me standing by the door. "Zoe, you're here."

She looked me up and down, her brows furrowing. "You've lost weight again? Getting married soon and still not taking care of yourself?

"You've been with Lane five years and still haven't gotten pregnant. Hope there's nothing wrong with you."

Before I could say anything, Lane cut in flatly, "Let's eat first."

*****

At the dinner table, Maria kept piling food onto Yvonne's plate. "This is good for you; eat more. You need to stay strong if you want to have kids someday."

Yvonne blushed and stole a glance at Lane.

I stared down at my empty plate, numb inside.

Then Maria turned her attention to me. "Zoe, after the wedding, you shouldn't be thinking about going to Raionia or Eulopia anymore.

"Women should put their family first. Lane's already thirty-three, you know. When are you planning to have kids?"

I looked up at Lane.

Two years ago, I'd been pregnant once.

When the test came back positive, I'd been surprised and thrilled. I'd tucked the test into a gift box and brought it to Lane's hospital office to surprise him.

But when he opened the box, he didn't smile like I hoped. He merely sat there in a long, heavy silence.

Finally, he said, "Let's not keep it. I'm in the running for deputy director; now's not the time for marriage or kids. We're still young. We'll have other chances."

On the day of the surgery, he had a last-minute meeting.

I signed the papers and walked into the operating room all by myself.

When I came out, everyone else had someone there for them. I was the only one sitting alone in the hallway.

Lane didn't show up until nightfall. Seeing me crying, he frowned, "It was just an accident. Don't dwell on the past."

After that, he refused to use any protection, but he also didn't want another accident. So every time, it was always up to me to take the pills.

Now, Maria blamed me in front of everyone for not conceiving.

If only Lane would offer one explanation, all this humiliation could stop.

But he stayed quiet for a beat, then said, "Zoe's career-driven. She doesn't want kids right now."

My hand froze mid-grip around my fork.

Maria's face darkened instantly. "What good is a fancy career for a woman?

"You're almost thirty, Zoe. Wait any longer, and you won't be able to get pregnant at all.

"Get a full fertility workup before the wedding. If there's something wrong with you, don't drag our family down."

Lane nodded along. "Yeah, Zoe, it's good to get checked out. Didn't you say you weren't feeling well last month? Let Mom handle it for you."

Yvonne piped up softly beside me. "Zoe, Maria's looking out for you. Women really should take care of themselves."

A sudden, bitter laugh bubbled out of me.

The whole table went dead silent.

Lane frowned, "What are you laughing at?"

I set down my fork, pulled out five years' worth of birth control receipts and last month's medical report from my bag, and laid them out in front of him.

My voice was cold. "I'll get checked out. But before that, Dr. Grant, maybe you should explain something to everyone here.

"You made me take birth control for five years. How come when you're with your family, it suddenly sounds like I'm the one who doesn't want kids?"

Maria's head snapped toward Lane. "Is what Zoe said true?"

Lane's face darkened. He glared at me. "This is private between us, and it was something we agreed on. Did you have to bring it up in front of everyone?"

"Agreed on?" I stared straight through him. "Did you listen when I told you I wasn't feeling well? Did you even open the medical report I sent you?

"Every time I suggested we try a different way, you always said it would ruin the mood.

"Lane, as long as I caved in the end, that counts as a mutual agreement?"

Lane's lips pressed into a tight line. "You're being emotional right now. Let's talk about this when we get home."

Just then, Yvonne covered her mouth and rushed to the bathroom. The sound of her retching carried over.

Maria froze for a split second, then her eyes lit up. "Yvonne, don't tell me you're..."

Yvonne came back, her face pale as a sheet. She fumbled for her bag in a panic, and a medical report slipped out.

I bent down to pick it up—she was eight weeks pregnant.

Lane shot forward to steady Yvonne, his voice tight with a panic I'd never heard directed at me before. "Does your stomach hurt? Didn't the doctor tell you to stay in bed?"

Yvonne shook her head, her eyes red. "I'm fine."

"The baby can't be hurt," Lane blurted out.

I watched his hand hover protectively over Yvonne's belly.

Two years ago, when he learned I was pregnant, he dismissed it as a minor procedure.

Now Yvonne felt a little nauseous, and he was already terrified of losing her child.

I glanced down at the medical report. The emergency contact section clearly listed Lane's full name.

I set the report down on the table and looked up at him. "Whose baby is this?"