Chapter 1
The hospital hallway reeked of disinfectant. Gracie Brooks clenched the test report in her hand, her fingers trembling. There was no mistaking it. She was six weeks pregnant.
The truth lingered in her mind, heavy and inescapable, yet it brought her no joy at all.
She sank onto a bench outside the OB-GYN department, watching couples drift by. Every husband was gently holding his wife's arm, and every woman wore the same soft, hopeful smile.
Gracie lowered her gaze to her own hands.
In three years of marriage, Sebastian Brooks had never once bought her a ring.
"Mrs. Brooks, are you alright?" the nurse asked as she walked over. "Would you like some water?"
Gracie shook her head and got to her feet.
The coat on her back was years old, her jeans bleached pale by time, her shoes nothing special at all. For someone who'd married into a wealthy family, she looked poorer than the people who cleaned the floors.
By the time she got back to Brooks Manor, it was already dark.
The servants were cleaning the living room. When they saw her come in, they just nodded, not even bothering with a greeting.
Gracie was used to it. She went upstairs in silence, and as her hand brushed the banister, she caught the low voices of two servants whispering in the kitchen.
"Mr. Brooks called and told us to get the sunny room on the third floor ready."
"Isn't that room always unused? What's it for?"
"I heard Ms. Evans is coming back."
Gracie paused mid-step.
They were talking about Joan Evans, the woman Sebastian never got over. The one who left after her family went under, the one he'd been hung up on for five years.
Gracie continued up the stairs and opened the bedroom door.
The room was dark, the lights still off. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hand drifting to her belly without her noticing it.
It felt strange. It had only been six weeks, nothing more than the faintest beginning of a life, yet she felt as if she could sense its heartbeat.
Her thoughts drifted back to a rainy night three years ago.
Philip, Sebastian's grandpa, was gravely ill then, and his only wish was to see his grandson settled down.
Sebastian had been introduced to one eligible woman after another, yet he chose her instead, a girl with no parents, living on other people's charity.
"I need a wife," Sebastian said that day, sitting in the car without looking at her. "Do what you're told. Don't make trouble.
"Three years. Once my grandpa is gone, you'll get paid, and you can walk away."
She agreed.
She didn't have any other options. Her uncle Richard had long since made it clear she wasn't welcome, and she'd just graduated with no real job prospects.
Even if the marriage was just for show, at least she'd have a place to stay.
She hadn't realized how long three years could really feel. It wasn't the time that broke her; it was how slowly her heart froze.
Sebastian never touched her. On their wedding night, he got drunk and crashed in the study. By the next morning, everyone at Brooks Manor knew he didn't see her as his wife at all.
He never took her to any events. At family gatherings or business functions, there were always different women at his side, never her. The press didn't even know Sebastian was married. His public profile still listed him as single.
He hardly ever talked to her. In three years, they'd probably spent less than a month in the same room. When they ran into each other at meals, he looked right through her, cold and indifferent, like she wasn't even a person.
The only time they spoke to each other was in front of Philip.
"Gracie, could you get me some water?" Sebastian said, his tone suddenly soft.
Gracie did as she was told, poured the water, and handed it to him.
Sebastian took it, then set it down on the table without taking a single sip.
It was all just for show. She knew that.
*****
Her phone buzzed with a message from a number she knew by heart.
Sebastian: [Joan is coming back tomorrow. I'm picking her up. I won't be home tonight.]
She read it three times, then deleted it.
Her hand drifted back to her belly. She wondered if Sebastian would even want the baby.
The answer was obvious.
He wouldn't.
He had no reason to. He would only have kids with the woman he truly loved. She was nothing more than a stand-in. It would be with the woman he truly loved. She was nothing more than a stand-in,
Gracie lay awake all night. When morning came, she'd made a decision.
She got up, opened her closet, and packed the few cheap clothes she'd bought over the past three years into an old suitcase. She left all the designer clothes and jewelry Sebastian gifted her behind, untouched.
Then she pulled a document out of the drawer.
It was a divorce agreement.
She had drafted it long ago, but never found the courage to hand it over. Today was the end of the three-year term. Philip had been gone for half a year. It was time for her to leave.
She clutched the divorce papers and headed downstairs, only to run into Sebastian coming in from outside.
He was wearing a dark gray coat, looking as cold as the winter outside. When he saw Gracie, he didn't stop. He shot a glance at the suitcase in her hand. "Are you going out?"
Gracie hesitated, then said, "Sebastian, I need to talk to you."
"Go on," he replied.
She said, "We—"
"Mr. Brooks." Leo, the butler, burst in, his face lit up with excitement. "Ms. Evans's flight landed early. You need to get to the airport right now."
Sebastian's expression shifted instantly. For once, there was warmth in his eyes, something Gracie had never seen before.
He gave a brief nod and turned to leave, as if he'd forgotten Gracie was still standing there.
"Sebastian," Gracie called after him.
He stopped and turned around with impatience.
Gracie took a deep breath, walked over, and held out the divorce papers to him. "Go ahead. Sign it."
The room went dead quiet. Sebastian glanced down at the papers and frowned. "What's this about?"
"Three years are up," Gracie replied calmly. "I'm leaving."
Sebastian stared at her, his eyes unreadable. After a moment, he gave a mocking laugh. "Gracie, are you trying to threaten me? Because Joan is coming back?"
"No," Gracie replied, shaking her head. "I just—"
"Enough," he cut her off, thrusting the papers back at her. "I don't have time for this. We'll deal with it when I'm back."
Then he walked out without another word.
Gracie stood there, watching him walk out the door. A bitter laugh rose in her chest.
In three years, it was the longest conversation he had ever had with her, and it only happened because she was trying to leave.
She glanced down at the divorce papers, then at her belly. "Sweetie," she whispered, "It's just you and me now. We're leaving."