He quickly tried to explain, “Easton did not mean to lock you up. After that woman gives birth, he will let you go, so please do not grow distant from him.”
That bowl of medicine had failed to end Emma’s child, which was a pity.
By locking me up like this, Easton only wanted to guard against me in every way, afraid I would kill his child or harm Emma, and at that thought, my gaze grew sharp.
The man left, and after a few days, Easton finally came to see me, yet the room stayed in endless darkness, not a single light ever turned on.
His sharp-edged face hid in the shadows, his expression unreadable as he half-knelt before me.
“Tisha, after the child is born, I will release you. I will send Emma away, and she will never appear before you again. At that time, between you and me, everything will stay as before, nothing will change.”
Before I could answer, he turned and left.
I stayed locked away for four long months, and from the mouths of those who brought food, I pieced together bits about Easton.
What shocked me most was hearing that he had gone to the church to pray for blessings over his unborn child.