Chapter 3

The next morning, I was up before the sun, my mind clear and focused. I had an appointment at the consulate to finalize my visa paperwork. The escape plan was in motion.

When I returned to the house, my key turning in the lock, the scene in the living room made my stomach clench.

Aidan and Gisele were on the sofa. Gisele was wearing one of Aidan' s white button-down shirts, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It hung loosely on her frame, a blatant, intimate claim. She was playing the part of the lady of the house perfectly.

I forced the ugly, twisting feeling in my gut down. He wasn't mine. He had never been mine.

"Good morning," I said, my voice polite and distant. I was about to head up to my room, to the sanctuary where I could pretend they didn't exist.

But then Gisele laughed, a high, tinkling sound that grated on my nerves. She picked up a strawberry from the bowl on the coffee table and held it to Aidan's lips.

"Open up, darling," she cooed.

I froze.

"He doesn't like strawberries," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. It was an involuntary reaction, a habit born of years of caring for him. He hated them. The one time I' d mischievously put a slice in his salad, he had refused to speak to me for a whole day.

Gisele's perfectly plucked eyebrows rose in amusement. She looked at me as if I were a speck of dust on her pristine furniture.

"Is that so?" she purred, turning back to Aidan. "But you'll eat it for me, won't you, my love?"

Aidan didn't even glance at me. He opened his mouth and let her feed him the strawberry, his teeth grazing her fingertips in a gesture that was both playful and possessive. He swallowed, then leaned in and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

The tips of his ears turned red.

I had only ever seen him blush like that with me, in the dark, when he thought no one was looking.

The sight was a physical blow. I was an intruder, a relic of a past he was actively erasing. I turned without another word and fled to my room, the sound of their laughter chasing me down the hall.

I locked the door and pulled out my suitcase. It was time to pack.

I had lived in this house for years, but I had surprisingly few possessions. I was never one for accumulating things. I started to gather the few items that held sentimental value, the things I couldn't bear to leave behind.

I opened the bottom drawer of my dresser. It was my secret box, a collection of memories from my life with Aidan. A movie ticket from our first "date," a dried flower he had once picked for me, a photograph of us from years ago, both of us smiling, looking for all the world like a happy couple.

I looked at the items, at the tangible proof of the love I had felt, and I felt... nothing. No regret. No nostalgia. Just a quiet, finality. I had loved him, yes. But that love was dead.

I was about to close the drawer, to lock away the past for good, when my eyes fell on a small, embroidered pouch. A talisman.

My hand trembled as I picked it up. Inside, I knew what I would find.

I had bought this pouch after my first miscarriage. A charm to protect my next child. After the second, I had placed a tiny, silver lock inside. And after the third, and the fourth, and all the ones that followed. Eight tiny silver locks, one for each of my lost babies.

I clutched the pouch, the weight of my grief suddenly overwhelming. The dam I had so carefully constructed broke, and a wave of hot, silent tears streamed down my face.

The door burst open without a knock.

Gisele stood there, a triumphant smirk on her face. Her eyes darted from my tear-streaked face to the open drawer, to the pouch in my hand.

"Oh, my," she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "What's all this? A little shrine to your unrequited love?"

I quickly wiped my eyes, my hand closing protectively over the pouch. "Get out of my room."

She ignored me, sauntering in as if she owned the place. "Don't be shy, Kloe. Aidan told me everything. About your... arrangement."

The word hung in the air, ugly and demeaning.

"He told me how he was just playing with you," she continued, her voice a cruel whisper. "All of it. A decade-long game to get back at your father."

My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

"Your father," she said, her eyes glinting with malice. "The man responsible for the death of Aidan's entire family. Aidan has spent the last ten years making you fall in love with him, just so he could destroy you. Just so your father could feel the pain of losing a child. Or in your case, eight children."

She laughed, a truly ugly sound. "And you, you pathetic little fool, you even went to a temple to pray for those little mistakes. For the bastards he never wanted."

Her gaze fell on the pouch in my hand. "He told me every time he touched you, he had to fight the urge to be sick. He was disgusted by you. The daughter of his enemy."