Chapter 4

A week later, Sharon called.

She asked how we were doing and whether there was any news about the baby yet. When she heard Charles was doing manual labor every day, she practically exploded.

She wanted him to come home immediately.

I transferred 50 thousand dollars to her account without a second thought.

I said, "Sharon, you don't get it. If Charles can win my mom over, he'll inherit everything—the whole family fortune. And if we successfully have a baby, she's promised him a 2 million dollars bonus."

Sharon's tone shifted instantly. "Oh, sweetie, you're a grown man. A little work won't kill you. You two just stay put at Mary's place, okay? No rush to come home. I've got everything under control with the Stone family."

Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, but Charles looked as though he was about to lose it. "Mom. Are you even my real mother? I'm exhausted.

"Every single day, I'm exhausted. Do you have any idea how big Mary's house is? She built this massive villa herself, and there's this huge yard—hundreds of square meters. I'm so tired."

Tears started rolling down his face. "Every house in Summersville is like this, and sometimes I have to help out at other people's places too."

Sharon's patience was wearing thin. "Son, you're living in a mansion and you're complaining? Do you even appreciate what you have? If you can't handle it, let me move in instead. I've spent decades taking care of you people—there's no housework I can't do."

Charles hung up and wiped his tears, his shoulders shaking. "I hate you all. I hate my mom. She doesn't really love me. She's never treated me like her real son."

I scooted away from him, making my disgust obvious. "Charles, seriously? Your mom's got a point.

"My family's been feeding you, housing you, treating you like royalty, and all we ask is that you help out around the house and do some work in the garden. You can't even do that?

"Without me, you think you'd be living this good? If you don't get it, go back to your tiny apartment."

Charles cried even harder. "Mary, we've been married for three years. Is this how you treat me? Do you even love me?"

He lunged toward me, trying to throw himself into my arms, but I dodged. He landed on the couch in a pathetic heap.

I sneered, "If I didn't love you, would I have brought you home? Would I be planning to hand over my family's assets to you? Charles, do you have any conscience at all?

"If you really think I don't love you, then let's just get divorced. Instead of spending all day being paranoid and insecure, why don't you use that time to actually work and get on my mom's good side?"

Charles bit his lip and wiped at his tears silently. "Mary!"

All he got in response was the sound of me heading upstairs and locking my door.

Perfect timing. My favorite live stream was about to start, and I definitely didn't have time to deal with his drama.

Two months in, and Charles was showing. He'd gained over twenty pounds, and it was starting to worry him. I watched him stand in front of the mirror, one hand on his rounded belly, his face twisted with confusion.

"I've been drinking that medicine every single day," he muttered. "So why am I getting fatter?"

His eyes dragged over to me, taking in my increasingly slim figure, and suspicion flickered across his face. "Mary, we're both trying to get pregnant, so why are you so skinny? And your stomach's completely flat—nothing's happening at all."

He crossed his arms. "Does this Summersville remedy of yours actually work or not?"

"Maybe we should just go home and try Amanda's recipe instead." His voice dropped lower. "At least back home, I wouldn't have to deal with all this crap."

The last part came out as barely a whisper, but I caught every word.

I smiled coldly. Leave? Not a chance in hell.

I walked over and patted his shoulder, my voice dripping with false comfort. "I already told you when we got here—the medicine takes three months to kick in. Let's wait another month and see."

Charles wasn't happy about it, but I shoved a card loaded with thirty grand into his pocket. That got him smiling again.

At three months pregnant, Charles was getting bigger by the day.

Amanda made sure to cook him all the best foods for the baby, and she watched closely to make sure he ate every bite.

Today, she'd spent hours stewing a fatty old hen until the broth was thick and golden. She set the entire pot in front of Charles and nobody else.

She said, "Charles, sweetie, I made this just for you. You need to drink all of it, okay?"

Charles pinched his nose and pushed the bowl away. "Amanda, you've been making me chicken soup every single day. I really can't handle any more."

Amanda's face went cold. She stared at him without saying a word, her silence heavy and deliberate.

When Charles still refused to touch the soup, she stood up and walked away.

But before she left, she leaned down and whispered in my ear, "It's almost time. Charles has quite the temper, doesn't he? Mary, you spoil him too much. That's not good for anyone."

After Amanda left, I ladled a fresh bowl of soup and placed it in front of Charles. "Be good and drink it. This is for your health."

"I'm not drinking it."

He really thought he could talk back to me like that. The next second, I grabbed the bowl and threw it right in his face.

Hot soup splashed across his skin. "Then get the hell out. You think you can act like this after everything? My mom spent hours making this for you, and you just refuse? Ungrateful bastard."

Charles clutched his face, ready to yell back, but suddenly his stomach twisted. He ran to the bathroom and started throwing up.

Morning sickness. It was totally normal.

Maybe it was because he got so worked up, but Charles kept vomiting all afternoon. He couldn't keep anything down.

The timing was right. I figured it was time to tell him the truth.

That evening, I bought a little cake as a peace offering. I walked into the bedroom with my sweetest smile. "Honey, I'm sorry about today. I didn't mean to make you sick for so long. You're not mad at me, are you?"

I wrapped my arms around him from behind and gently touched his swollen belly. "You can be mad at me all you want, but don't be mad at yourself," I said softly. "The baby inside can't handle that kind of stress."

Charles' eyes went wide, and he shoved my hands away. "Mary, are you out of your damn mind? What the hell are you talking about?"

I didn't get angry. I just smiled and reached for his hand again. "Sweetheart, haven't you noticed yet? You're pregnant. You're carrying our baby."