Chapter 2

Nikki said, "Kiana, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hide it from you. The doctors said I'd never be able to have children. Eric only wanted to help me have a child of my own."

She was crying like she was the victim, but every word reminded me that the baby I'd carried for eight months was hers.

Eric reached out and snatched the file from my hand.

He said, "We'll talk about this at home. There are too many people here. Don't make a scene."

I let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "Embarrassing? Really? You lied to me about the embryo transfer, forced me to take all those meds, and made me believe this baby was actually ours.

"And now you have the nerve to say I'm the one who's embarrassing you?"

Eric's face darkened. He said, "Kiana, don't forget. You wanted this baby too. I asked you before the embryo transfer."

I stared him down and said, "You said it was our baby. Not hers."

He paused for a second, frozen in place.

And in that moment, I finally understood everything.

Eric knew. He'd known from the very start.

He knew I spent every day rubbing my belly, coming up with cute little names for the baby.

He knew I painted the nursery that pale yellow color.

He knew I sat there knitting tiny baby socks, stitch by stitch.

He watched everything.

And he let me make a fool of myself, raising a baby for his precious Nikki like it was all some sick joke.

Nikki clung to his sleeve, tears streaming down her face.

She said, "Eric, please don't blame Kiana. She really wanted to be a mom, that's all."

Eric immediately looked at her and said softly, "Don't say anything."

He sounded nothing like his usual self.

I remembered a month ago, when I was rushed to the ER with contractions. The nurse kept asking for a family member to sign the paperwork.

No matter how long I waited, Eric never came.

Later, I found out that while I was suffering alone in the hospital, it was Nikki's birthday. Eric was out by the river with her, lighting up the night with fireworks.

I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain.

When Eric finally showed up, the first thing he said was, "So you're okay now, right? Why did you have to make me rush back?"

But now, Nikki cried a little, and he acted like his whole world was falling apart.

My hand instinctively went to my belly.

"I want another DNA test," I said.

Eric's head snapped up. "No."

I stared at him and said, "This is my body."

Eric's voice dropped. "The baby's already eight months along. Kiana, don't take it out on the baby. Nikki's been waiting three years for this child."

My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"So what did these eight months even mean for me?" I choked out.

He paused for a moment and said, "You're healthy. We can always do this again in the future."

Nikki choked out, her voice trembling, "Kiana, if you don't want the baby, I can give it up. I really can give it up."

But even as she said it, her hand was gripping Eric's arm like she'd never let go.

Eric stepped in front of her, shielding her from me.

"No one's telling you to give up the baby," he said.

When he looked at me again, his eyes were nothing but warning.

He said, "Kiana, the baby must be born safe and sound. Anything else can wait until after you've given birth."

*****

I went back to the Atkins family villa alone.

Inside, the nanny was sorting through all the baby stuff.

There was a soft pink blanket, a custom baby bottle, and a silver bracelet with "Mila" engraved on it.

I once asked Eric why he insisted on naming the baby Mila.

He told me, "Mila means gracious. I want her to be kind and compassionate like her mother."

Looking back now, the answer had been right in front of me all along.

He wasn't talking about me. It was always about Nikki.

I went back to my bedroom to gather my documents.

My passport, marriage certificate, medical records, prenatal check-up reports.

Most important of all was the embryo transfer agreement I'd signed, and the photocopy I'd accidentally found later.

I tore through every single drawer. They were empty. Even the safe had been wiped clean.

My phone rang.

It was Eric. I answered, my voice hoarse, "Where are my documents?"

There was a long silence on the other end.

Then, Eric finally said, "I've put them away. You're not in the right state of mind right now. Don't do anything rash."

I let out a bitter laugh. "What, scared I'll lose it, or scared I'll sue you?"

Eric was silent for a moment.

He then said, "Kiana, you're making this out to be more serious than it is. You're carrying Nikki's baby, but the child is still an Atkins by blood. I won't mistreat you."

I suddenly felt a chill run through my whole body.

I shot back, "You call this not screwing me over? Eric, am I just a tool to you?"

Eric's patience was wearing thin. He snapped, "Do you have to be so harsh? We've been married for three years. Who paid off your family's debts?

"Who paid for your mom's surgery? Kiana, you should be grateful."

I should be grateful?