I smiled, but there was nothing behind it.
"If you know he's heartless, why are you trying to become his official wife?"
She touched her stomach, her smile turning soft.
"I don't have a choice anymore. I'm pregnant. This is his first child."
"His wife has bad genes—she's got a brother who's mentally disabled. He was terrified of having a defective baby, so he arranged for their first pregnancy to end in a miscarriage."
Thunder roared in my ears.
In my second year of marriage to Wilfred, I'd been pregnant too.
I'd been so happy—buying tiny clothes, little toys. Then during a routine warehouse inspection, a stack of cargo collapsed and struck my lower back.
The baby was gone.
I'd been consumed with guilt, sobbing until I couldn't breathe. "Wilfred, I'm so sorry. I was careless. It's my fault—"
He'd held me close. "Don't blame yourself, Athena. We're still young. Once the company stabilizes, once you've recovered, we'll have another."
That was five years ago.
Just a few months back, I'd brought it up again—told him I wanted a baby.
He'd said the company was at a critical growth phase. He didn't have the energy. Maybe in a few more years.
So those were all just excuses.