Chapter 3

When the knife went in, I felt something leave me. It wasn't just the baby I lost, but also the last shred of hope I had for Damon.

When I woke up after the surgery, the first thing I saw was a text from Damon: [I have a business dinner tonight. I won't be home. Go to bed early.]

I just replied: [Okay.]

From that day forward, I was dead inside.

Now, I was just a shell of myself, drifting through life like the living dead.

"What are you looking at?" Suddenly, a voice called out from the doorway.

My hand shook as I quickly crumpled up the ultrasound report and hid it in my fist.

Damon leaned against the doorframe, a cup of coffee in hand, his gaze probing.

"Nothing," I said, turning and tossing the crumpled paper into the trash can beside me. "Just an old scrap of paper."

Damon walked over, his eyes landing on the old suitcase. "Why'd you pull this out? Switching out your wardrobe?"

"Yeah," I replied, going along with it. "I've got some old clothes I don't want anymore. I'm thinking of donating them."

"Just throw them out and buy new ones," he said casually, slipping his arm around my waist. "There's a charity gala tonight. You're coming with me."

I stiffened. "Do I really have to go?"

"Yolanda will be there too," he said, looking down at me with that unyielding tone. "You're Mrs. Clayton. You have to show up at these events. Otherwise, the gossip mill will start churning again."

I looked at him, so sure of himself, and suddenly it all seemed ridiculous.

I was only Mrs. Clayton when he needed a shield.

I was only Mrs. Clayton when he needed to pave the way for Yolanda.

"Okay." I nodded. "I'll go."

This was it. No more after this.

Damon, this would be the last show I'd ever put on for you.

He was clearly pleased with how I'd been acting these past few days.

"Kendall, that's more like it," he said, a satisfied smile in his eyes. "As long as you keep your cool and don't cause trouble, you'll always be Mrs. Clayton. Yolanda is just for appearances, nothing serious. Just hope you understand."

I looked at him, so full of himself, and felt nothing at all.

"I understand," I said with a smile. "Go on, don't be late."

Damon Clayton left.

The car pulled away from the driveway, and the iron gate slowly closed behind.

The smile on my face vanished in an instant.

I turned and went upstairs, started packing away all those expensive dresses, jewelry, and designer bags in my closet.

"Mrs. Clayton, you're really selling all this? These are all limited editions." The resale guy stared wide-eyed at the mountain of luxury goods scattered across the floor.

"Yes," I said, lounging on the couch with a glass of plain water. "Turn it all into cash and wire it to this card."

It was my overseas account.

"No problem. Just give me a sec. I'll tally it up," he replied.

I watched as the things I once treated like treasures were stuffed one by one into woven sacks, and all I felt was a weight lifting off my shoulders.

Every last one of these was from Damon.

Birthday presents, anniversary gifts, apology gifts. Each one came with waiting, disappointment, and compromise.

Now, they were just numbers, my ticket and armor for the battlefield ahead.

Not a bad trade, if you ask me.

That night, when Damon came home, he stepped into the closet and noticed half the shelves were bare.

"What's going on?" he asked, frowning at the empty racks.

"Sent them out for dry cleaning," I lied smoothly, not even blinking. "Some got a bit damp, so I'm just getting them freshened up."

He didn't suspect a thing.

He pulled a velvet box out of his pocket and handed it to me.

"Go ahead, open it," he said.

I opened it.

Inside was a diamond necklace, the center stone so dazzling it was almost blinding.

"You like it?" Damon murmured, pulling me into his arms from behind. "Think of it as me making it up to you for the other day."

Staring at the necklace in the mirror, all I could think was that it looked less like a gift and more like a leash.

"Thanks," I said, snapping the box shut. "It's beautiful."

"You want me put it on for you?" he asked.

"Not tonight," I said, placing the box on the dresser. "I'm too tired, and my neck feels a little sore."

Damon didn't insist and let go of me, looking a little disappointed.

"Alright, get some rest," he said.