Chapter 4

My hand flew to my belly instinctively, shock and joy warring inside me. Then I noticed Edward on the couch across the room, looking absolutely wrecked.

Ice climbed my spine.

He lurched to his feet, took a long breath, and let out a jagged laugh. "Andrew Bennett? Or should I call you Anna Carter now? No wonder I couldn't find you. You changed your name and remarried."

"Edward," I interrupted, steadying my voice. "My husband and daughter will be worried. I need to go."

"This is your home! You're not going anywhere!" he yelled.

His composure finally snapped when his eyes burned with something wild. He barked the words like a dog driven mad by desperate panic and possession.

Seeing the fear in my eyes as I instinctively flinched away, he crossed the room and dropped to his knees beside the bed. His eyes reddened with unshed tears, his voice dropping to a pleading whisper.

"I know you hate me for slapping you five years ago, for failing to raise Charlie right, and for letting him hurt you with those awful words. But Anna, I've thought about you every single day for five years.

"It's been five years. Can't you just let it go?"

Every time he brought up what happened five years ago, those memories crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I couldn't breathe. My chest felt like it was caving in, my whole body going numb. Every instinct screamed at me to run.

But running would just make me more afraid, keeping me trapped in this hell forever.

I drew a breath and forced myself to look him dead in the eye.

"Edward, have you forgotten how your mother died? You blamed me for her death without even questioning it. When we got divorced, you kicked me while I was down. Did you really think a few sweet words would fix everything?

"You're so full of yourself!"

I was screaming the last words. My heart pounded so hard that I thought it might burst. My whole body shook.

Edward went pale, standing there, stunned.

Before and after we got married, my music career was taking off. I released singles that built a solid online following and brought serious revenue to Edward's company.

Then childbirth damaged my vocal cords permanently. No matter what I tried, my voice never came all the way back.

Edward suggested I stay home with the kids and focus on healing. He promised I could go back to singing when I was ready.

And I loved being a mother. Our two children were my entire world, a balm for all my anxieties about the future. Even as Edward's work consumed him, even as his mother targeted me with her daily cruelties, I told myself it was fine.

Because no matter how late he came home, he would always pull me into his arms, share the small victories and frustrations of his day, and soothe my frayed nerves.

I thought, back then, he really did love me.

That's why I was so quick to forgive Charlie's careless words. Edward had stepped in, played the part of the good father, and taught his son a lesson. It was enough for me.

But then Jessica came back to the country. Edward became obsessed with taking the company public, working until all hours. He came home late, smelling of a perfume that wasn't mine.

He stopped sharing his day. He stopped noticing my moods.

When the desire to share your life with someone dies, the end has already begun.

A seed of panic took root. I became paranoid, calling him constantly to know where he was and when he was coming home.

At first, he was patient. "I'm still at the office, honey. Go to sleep."

But his patience wore thin. "Why can't you find something to do?" he snapped. "Can't you see how busy I am? I don't have time for your trivial questions."

Things hit a breaking point when photos surfaced of Edward, Jessica, and Charlie at an amusement park together.

Showing him the pictures from Charlie's smartwatch, I confronted Edward when he stumbled home drunk. I just wanted an explanation. But he couldn't even be bothered.

He just looked at me like I was insane.

"Andrew, if you're this paranoid, you need to see a therapist," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Stop being so fucking insecure."

We didn't even fight. The conversation just died. And the cold war began.