Chapter 1
I was twenty-five years old, married to Julian Crest for three years.
That day, I handed him the pregnancy test. He didn't even glance at it. "Get rid of them," he said. "She wouldn't be able to handle it."
I thought I'd heard him wrong.
She? The woman he never spoke of. The one who lived in his heart while I warmed his bed.
So I went to the clinic alone. I signed the papers alone. I came home alone.
That night, I put divorce papers in front of him.
He just signed.
*****
I was twenty-five years old, married to Julian Crest for three years.
Our wedding anniversary was yesterday.
Julian didn't come home.
The four dishes and the soup I had made with my own hands sat on the table, going from warm to cold—just like my three years of marriage, just like my heart slowly cooling down.
He always had his hands full.
Busy with work, business dinners, and every reason he could find to stay away from home.
Our place was an 18 hundred square feet duplex.
Most of the time, I was alone in that big place.
I'd gotten used to it.
I was used to talking to myself in an empty house.
I was used to falling asleep to only my own breathing.
I had grown used to his faint gardenia scent—a fragrance not mine.
But tonight, I didn't wait for him.
Because I have a secret.
A secret that could warm this frozen home.
I sat on the couch, gripping the tiny pregnancy test until my knuckles turned white.
Two red lines stabbed my eyes, making them sting.
I was pregnant.
Julian was twenty-eight, already successful in his career.
I was his lawfully wedded wife.
It's only right that we have a child.
I thought a baby might change everything.
He would come home. He would smile at me. He would be mine—truly mine—and our children would have a father who loved them.*****
The clock struck eleven. I heard the key turn in the lock.
My heart jumped into my throat.
Julian was home.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit. Tall, broad-shouldered. Strikingly handsome.
But his eyes always held a chill, sealed behind unbreakable ice.
He slipped off his jacket and threw it on the couch.
I caught it—that gardenia scent, again.
He rubbed his temples tiredly and went to the study.
Not once did he look at me from the moment he walked in.
My palms were slick with cold sweat.
My knuckles turned white from gripping the pregnancy test tightly.
'Rosalind, you have to be brave,' I whispered it quietly to myself.
For the baby, and for this last shred of hope I still have.
I took a deep breath, stood up, and followed him.
"Julian," my voice trembled.
He stopped and gave an indifferent "Mm" without turning.
One syllable. And in it, I felt like a cold, distant wall, shutting me out.
I handed him the pregnancy test, my hand trembling. "I... I'm pregnant."
"I..."
A single desk lamp glowed alone in the study.
The dim yellow glow stretched his shadow endlessly.
He finally lowered his head and looked at my hand.
Or rather, on the two red lines.
I couldn't read his expression.
But I could feel the air turning icy, inch by inch.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
I could hear my heart pounding like a drum out of control.
The sound of my heart, beating. Once.
Twice.
......
For a long moment, he was silent. Then, at last, he spoke.
His feather-light voice struck my heart like a thousand pounds.
He said, "Get rid of it."
I thought I'd heard him wrong.
My ears buzzed, drowning out everything else.
I stared at him in shock, my lips parted, but no words would come out.
He didn't even seem to notice my shock.
He ignored me, sat at his desk, and turned on his computer.
He said it as casually as choosing dinner.
A chill froze my blood instantly.
Did I really ask him that? My voice was rough and unfamiliar.
"Why?" I whispered.
He didn't look at me.
He stared at the computer screen, absorbed.
Then, I heard the answer that doomed me.
"She won't accept it," he said coldly.