Chapter 2

The slap cracked through the room, loud.

"Claire!" I shouted. "You know what happened. You know all of it. It was you, wasn't it?"

She let out a little whimper and immediately hid herself in Edward's arms, looking utterly wronged.

"Sue, you were the one who hired them to assault me first," she whimpered.

Edward's face grew thunderous, his mouth opening to unleash his fury. But before he could, a second slap, just as hard, cracked against my other cheek. It was Lily.

"Susan, you still want to play your jealous mom games?"

My ear rang, my head swimming in a dizzying fog.

Her words echoed in the sudden silence.

No one had expected her to hit me.

Stunned, I clutched my cheek, my gaze drifting from the picture-perfect couple to my own daughter, whose face was streaked with tears of rage.

I carefully knelt, picked up the box from the floor, and, without another word, retreated to my room.

As I closed the door, Edward glanced at the bottles of dementia medication on my nightstand. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"What's wrong with you, Susan?" I heard him mutter. "Why aren't you fighting back?"

In his memory, I was the fiery heiress who fought for his attention. I would have thrown a fit if he so much as looked at another woman.

Now, I was broken, disheveled, and unhinged.

I locked the door, ignoring his question.

Back in my room, I sank to the floor and curled my body around that tiny box.

I rocked it like a cradle.

"Shhh, Chris," I whispered, humming under my breath. "Mommy's here. Mommy's right here..."

Outside, I could hear Lily trying to apologize to Edward.

By morning, the house was quiet.

When I opened my door, Lily was there with an unreadable expression.

"Look, Susan, about yesterday... I didn't mean it. Don't make a big deal out of it."

I blinked at her. My eyes were gritty and sore.

"What happened yesterday?"

Her brows snapped together. Then she gave this ugly little laugh.

"Wow. The acting never stops, does it?

"Fine, whatever. I'm marrying Eric in two days. I want my dad there. Go talk him into coming."

She was banking on the same thing she had always banked on: my guilt.

I carried the box to the kitchen trash can, tipped it over, and said calmly, "Alright."

A flicker of surprise crossed her face.

"You were guarding that thing like it was treasure last night. What happened?"

I shrugged. "Isn't it just a hunk of rotten meat?"

Lily laughed.

"Right. That's more like it. You're Susan. Cold to the core. You compete with your own daughter. Why would you give a damn about a stillborn?"

She left, heels clicking. After the door shut, I stood over the trash can for a long time.

Then, as if moved by a force outside myself, I retrieved the small bundle and buried it in the patch of dirt behind our apartment.

I called in sick to the massage parlor for two days and pulled the most stylish thing I owned from the back of my closet.

Back then, Edward used to spoil me. My closet would be filled with the latest pieces from every big label before they even hit the stores.

"Sue, you're so beautiful," he murmured, fastening necklaces around my throat. "You should be dressed like a doll."

Somewhere between then and now, I had stopped buying anything nice for myself. Every extra dollar went to Lily to make sure she never felt the sting of our poverty.

I managed to put on some decent makeup and took a bus to a Lancaster Group branch office.

The moment I stepped inside, a receptionist blocked my path. "Can I help you?"

I remembered a time when my arrival would cause a stir. Whispers of "Mrs. Lancaster" would follow me through these same halls.

I pushed the memory down. "Call Mr. Lancaster. Tell him Susan Mayfield is here."

Her expression was dubious, but she made the call. Her face paled.

"This way, ma'am," she said respectfully.

The elevator dinged on the eighteenth floor.

My palms were slick. My breathing was uneven. It had been a long time since I had set foot in any kind of office building, let alone his.

Edward was behind his desk, signing a stack of documents. He looked up, one eyebrow lifting like he had been expecting this.

"Here to complain again?" he asked.

He seemed a little startled by how familiar that script was.

Back then, every time I went to him, it was just to vent. Either someone was smearing my name or some idiot was stirring up fresh drama.

I was a stunner, and I knew it. Whenever I turned on the charm, he would smile and handle everything for me.

I pulled a red envelope from my bag and laid it on his desk.

I said with a hint of pleading in my voice, "Lily is getting married the day after tomorrow. Will you come?"

He didn't look up from his papers.

"I see."

I turned to leave, but his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist like a steel trap.

He smiled through gritted teeth.

"Your daughter is getting married, and you want me there? Why? To humiliate me? Or..." He pulled me closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You still love me?"

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as he leaned in. For a wild second, I thought he might kiss me.

Instead, he shoved me back so hard that I stumbled.

Then he wiped his palm on a handkerchief, like touching me had left a stain.

"God, you're filthy. And you still think I'd ever kiss you?"

Something in my chest shrank, curling in on itself. I turned and fled, his mocking laughter following me out the door.

"Oh, I'll be there!" he called after me. "I wouldn't miss it! I'll be sure to give your daughter the send-off she deserves."