Chapter 2

"Rosalie, why didn't you answer my calls? Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Bradley's voice was sharp with concern.

I didn't turn around. Bradley sensed the tension in the air and crouched down beside me, looking up at me.

"Rosalie, why are you crying?" he asked softly.

He glanced back at the bed, uncertain, and reached out to touch it; it was completely cold, like no one had slept there all night.

"You didn't sleep at all last night, right?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. "Rosalie, come on, even if you don't care about yourself, the baby needs rest."

He placed his hand gently on my belly.

He didn't even bother to ask why I was upset. He just told me to quit making a fuss. Honestly, didn't he think this was ridiculous?

Suddenly, I wanted to see just how far he'd take this act, so I wrapped my arms around his neck, buried my face in his chest, and cried, "Bradley, I'm scared."

He gently patted my back to comfort me. "Rosalie, don't be afraid. I'll always be here for you. No one will ever hurt you."

"Does that include Samantha?" I asked.

His body tensed for a moment, then he replied coldly, "Rosalie, don't forget your place."

I let out a cold laugh, my eyes filled with disappointment.

I said, "Is that what you mean? Just because I grew up in the slums, I'm not worthy of someone as famous as you, right?"

He ran a hand over his face, his voice much gentler now. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

He was always like this, acting all helpless to hide his screw-ups, as if everything was somehow my fault.

He gently picked me up, laid me down on the bed, and tucked me in.

Bradley really was a gentle guy; well, at least he would be, if he hadn't spent last night with Samantha.

As he started to leave, I grabbed his wrist, confronting him. "Bradley, who do you love exactly, me or Samantha?"

For a moment, his face froze, then he just let it go, looking like he'd given up fighting it.

He said, "Rosalie, when your dad was sick four years ago, I paid for all his medical bills. I'm the one who got him those pricey imported meds. He would have been gone long ago if it weren't for me."

Realizing what he was about to say, I clapped my hands over my ears, desperate to shut him out. "Bradley, stop. Fine, I'll stop making a scene, okay?"

Bradley's voice was icy, each word deliberate. "Rosalie, you sold yourself to me four years ago, so don't ask me if I love you anymore.

"Some things are better left unspoken."

Before he left, he pressed a kiss on my forehead.

A wave of nausea surged up my throat, and I couldn't help but dry heave a couple of times.

He spun around, his eyes dark and dangerous. "Did I make you sick?"

I didn't answer, and he didn't give a damn about the answer anyway. Without another word, he walked out, not even looking back.

Just before he left, he paused, his voice back to its usual cold tone. "Get some rest."

It was just another routine, like he was going through the motions.

Samantha posted a new update online in the evening. In the photo, two hands were tightly intertwined, and I instantly knew one of them was Bradley's.

He's got a little red mole on his ring finger. No way I'd ever get that wrong.

We had been together for four years. Bradley didn't love me, but it was not like he felt nothing for me.

I suddenly thought that I could do the same thing to him.

I picked up my phone and called him.

Bradley's voice came through, his tone cool and detached. "What's wrong?"

When I had nowhere else to turn, it was that simple phrase from Bradley that became my lifeline. That was why I had loved him for four whole years.

However, he had always thought I was with him mostly because he saved my dad four years ago. And I had never told him he was wrong.

I whispered, "Bradley, I miss you."

Bradley's voice grew gentle. "I know."

That was all I needed.

He was still the same man, but he didn't feel the same for me anymore.