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The day I agreed to the divorce, the sun had been warm. But on the phone, my husband, Raymond Cole's voice had been ice-cold. He said, "Tessa is pregnant with my child. I don't want her and the baby to be fodder for the gossip. I want to marry her." A month earlier, after our argument, he had blocked me everywhere. This was the first time he'd reached out and it was for Tessa Bryant. "Raymond, it's fine if your wife doesn't agree," Tessa said, her voice sugary and sweet. "I don't care if I wasn't married to you as long as I get to stay with you." As if afraid I couldn't hear her clearly, she leaned even closer to the phone. "It's all my fault. She can hit me or yell at me if she wants, but the baby is innocent. I just hope she can help us and not let your child be born illegitimate." It was typical of Tessa. She was always pretending to be pitiful, but all smugness underneath, always hinting she'd got Raymond eating out of her hand. It was just like what she had done a month before.