Chapter 2

2.

A week ago, Weston had called me, sounding completely wasted. I went to pick him up.

The road was pitch black. I was supporting his swaying weight as we crossed the street.

Suddenly, a car accelerated toward us out of nowhere.

Without thinking, I shoved him out of the way. The impact sent me flying.

In that moment, the tearing pain in my abdomen told me everything. My six-month miracle was gone.

I woke up in a sterile hospital bed.

Weston held me, his voice trembling with what I thought was regret.

"I'm so sorry, Grace... it's all my fault. We'll have another baby, I promise. I'll make it up to you."

I believed his tears then. I believed his hollow vows.

I never imagined that only a week later, that tenderness would turn into this icy cruelty.

The suite went quiet for a moment. Someone noticed my pale face and tried to play peacemaker.

"Grace, don't take it to heart. Wes has had too much to drink. He's just talking trash."

But I knew better. There is no such thing as trash talk after a bottle of bourbon.

What he said tonight was the truth he had been hiding.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the physical ache in my chest. My voice was a brittle whisper.

"Weston, if that's how you really feel, then I want a divorce."

He blinked, his brief panic quickly sharpening into anger.

He pointed a finger at me, raising his voice.

"Grace, stop using divorce as a threat every time you're unhappy! Do you have to ruin everyone's night? I told you, she's just a distraction. Why can't you let it go?"

My heart turned to stone. I let out a cold laugh and turned to leave.

I only made it two steps before he grabbed my arm.

"Fine, stop being dramatic. I'll take you home, okay?"

His grip was brutal, bruising my wrist.

The man who had cried while holding me a few days ago now felt like a disgusting stranger.

Quinn leaned in then, looping her arm through his. Her voice was pure honey.

"But Weston, you promised you'd stay with me tonight."

My eyes fell on the bracelet on her wrist.

It was my own creation, my pride. Seeing it on her felt like a slap in the face.

I didn't think. I reached out and ripped the bracelet off her arm.

Quinn let out a small shriek, clutching her wrist and looking like a wounded bird.

"Grace? What are you doing? I... I just..."

Her fake innocence made me want to gag.

Weston frowned, his voice dripping with disappointment.

"Grace, what is wrong with you? It's just a piece of jewelry. Are you really that petty?"

The coldness in my soul reached its peak. I was about to scream at him, but then Quinn looked up.

That face... those blood-red lips. They were etched into my nightmares.

My body went rigid. The anger vanished, replaced by a suffocating, icy realization.

"Weston, do you have any idea who she is?"