Chapter 3

3

My stomach slammed into the sharp corner of the table. A white-hot flash of pain surged through me.

Quentin didn't even flinch. He screamed at me with pure venom.

"If I had known you were this unreasonable, I never would have married you."

I tried to use the wall to pull myself up, but after two steps, the world turned black, and I collapsed.

When I woke up, I was lying on the sofa. Quentin sat beside me, his face a mask of irritation.

"What are you trying to achieve with these stunts?" He started interrogating me the second my eyes opened.

"Do you have any idea how much you scared Aria? She was in tears because of your little performance."

I looked at the two of them standing there. A hollow ache filled my chest.

"Quentin, Elara just woke up. Don't be so hard on her. She only did it because she cares about you so much!" Aria's voice was pure poison disguised as honey.

I ignored her and looked out the window at a bird flying by. I smiled softly.

"Let's get a divorce."

Quentin's brows furrowed deeply. He grabbed my hand again, hard. "Do you even know what you're saying?"

I repeated myself, my voice steady. He stared at me intently.

"Do you really have to compete with Aria for everything? Do you have any idea how exhausting you are?"

"Besides, you're just a housewife. What will you do after a divorce? You're carrying a child. Where could you possibly go?"

I didn't respond. I struggled to sit up, wanting nothing more than to be in my room alone.

"Elara Thorne!" Quentin roared, his voice shaking the entire floor.

I stared at the man before me. His veins were popping out of his neck from anger. I realized I didn't recognize him at all.

He had never yelled at me like this before. Even when I messed up in the past, he would just stroke my hair and tell me it was okay.

But since Aria returned, his tenderness had been reserved solely for her. I had been cast as the crazy, nagging wife.

"Yes, I'm a housewife. I'm useless."

"Aria is the sophisticated city girl, right? She's so perfect and talented. Fine, you can have her. I'm done with you."

"Is that enough?" I screamed with every bit of strength left in my lungs.

The commotion brought Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, running. She had just returned from vacation and was the only one who knew about the tragedy.

She rushed to my side. "Ma'am, you shouldn't be getting this upset. Your health..."

"What could possibly be wrong with her health? She's just pregnant, not made of glass," Quentin snapped, cutting her off.

I looked at him with a hollow gaze. "Pregnant? That's funny. The baby died the night you were out celebrating Aria's birthday."

Quentin slammed his glass onto the floor, shattering it. "Elara, is that the best lie you can come up with? How can you be so wicked that you'd curse your own child?"

"I've put up with your tantrums, but using our baby as an excuse is disgusting."

Being analyzed with such malice by the person I once loved was more painful than a thousand needles.

I used to lie to myself, but now it was clear. Love and indifference are impossible to hide. The loss of my child was my final wake-up call.

I suppressed the stabbing pain in my heart and whispered, "Oh, so now you remember it's your child? Where were you when I was calling and texting you? You were..."

"Ugh... Quentin, I feel so sick." Aria suddenly clutched her stomach and made a gagging sound, cutting me off.

"Aria! Aria, what's wrong?" Quentin rushed to her side, scooping her up into his arms.

He ran toward the garage, pausing only to throw a hateful glance back at me before disappearing.

I watched his retreating back. Mrs. Gable looked at me with pity. Finally, the tears broke through.