Chapter 2
"Henry got drunk and hit her. Vivian was driving away to get out of there, and that's when the accident happened," he said.
"She didn't do it on purpose."
"She's way too weak to survive in prison. You've been tough since you were a kid, so you're the best one to take the blame for her."
So in his eyes, just because I was tough, I was meant to take the fall for others.
I gritted my teeth through the pain in my forehead and kept pushing for answers.
"What's my favorite food?" I asked.
"What am I afraid of?"
"When's my birthday?"
David Reed opened his mouth, then looked away, frustration etched across his face.
"Now of all times, you're still fussing over these trivial things?" he snapped.
It suddenly struck me how ridiculous this all was.
Here was a man who didn't even know my birthday, yet he kept insisting he was my husband.
I lifted my left hand, displaying my wedding ring.
"I have a husband, which means I have a home of my own," I said.
"Give me my phone back. I'm going home."
The cotton ball Vivian was holding slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.
She stood up, her face pale as a ghost.
"Husband?" Vivian stammered, her voice trembling.
"Charlotte, how could you just go out and marry some guy, and actually wear his ring?" she sounded totally shocked.
David Reed stared at my wedding ring, his expression so stormy it sent a chill down my spine.
"Who is that man?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
"None of your business," I shot back.
"I'm your husband!" he roared.
He grabbed my arm in a rage and dragged me upstairs, not letting me fight back at all.
I struggled desperately, my nails raking deep, bloody lines across the back of his hand.
"Let go of me!" I yelled.
"If you lay a finger on me, Lucas will call the cops!" I shouted.
David Reed kicked the door open and threw me onto the bed, hard.
"Let's see just how far that man's gotten with you," he snarled.
He tore my coat off, rough and brutal.
Terrified, I flailed desperately, struggling to fight him off, and smacked him hard across the face.
"Get the hell away from me!" I yelled.
David Reed's head snapped to the side from the force of my slap, but his fury only burned hotter.
He was about to pin me down when his eyes suddenly landed on my waist.
There was a jagged old scar slashed across it.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
"This scar..." he muttered, his voice low and uncertain.
I hugged my clothes tightly to myself, shaking uncontrollably from the pain.
Every time it rained, that scar would start throbbing all over again.
Lucas once told me that when they dragged me out of the river, my wound was already so badly infected that the doctors almost couldn't save me.
But David Reed just stared at it, his face draining of color.
"You got that scar because you shielded me from a knife," he said, his voice low and shaky.
"Charlotte, how could you forget?"
I couldn't make sense of anything he said. It just made my skin crawl.
"All I know is, you're picking on a pregnant woman," I shot back.
"Pregnant?" he blurted out, his eyes going wide.
He stared at my belly, totally stunned.
Suddenly, there was a frantic knock at the door.
Vivian cried out, her voice trembling with tears.
"David, I dreamed about Henry again," she sobbed.
"He was covered in blood, saying he was coming to make me pay for his death."
David Reed immediately let go of me and rushed out, wrapping Vivian protectively in his arms.
"Don't be scared," he said softly.
"Henry used to hit you every time he got drunk. What happened to him was just an accident. No one can blame you for it."
The same man who'd just been raging at me was now speaking in a gentle, patient voice, comforting Vivian.
Frantically buttoning up my clothes, I made a dash for the door, desperate to get out.
But David Reed quickly slammed the door shut and locked it, trapping me inside.
"You're out of it right now. Just stay here for the night," he said coldly.
"Tomorrow, once you've figured things out, you can come out and apologize to Vivian."
I banged on the door like crazy, my throat raw from screaming.
But no one outside even bothered to respond.
Deep into the night, my belly started to ache, a dull, nagging pain that just wouldn't go away.
I curled up at the edge of the bed, calling out Lucas's name again and again, clinging to it like my only lifeline.
It wasn't until dawn that the maid finally came and opened the door.
I stumbled down the stairs, my legs still numb.
David was eating breakfast, Vivian right next to him, and Emily was sitting there, drinking her milk like a little angel.
They looked like the perfect little family.
When I came downstairs, David barked out instructions without even looking at me.
"Vivian's stomach is acting up. Go make her some porridge," he said.
"Emily's dress is ripped. Fix it later."
"And re-iron my shirt. The maid messed it up."
Those orders were creepily familiar.