Chapter 2

The sound of the box hitting the floor caught their attention. When Ethan looked up, his eyes met mine.

A flash of panic crossed his face.

The pregnant woman looked confused. "What's wrong? Is someone at the door?"

She started to turn around, but Ethan pressed his hand against her head to stop her.

"It's nothing. Just some kid being stupid, left something outside. They're already gone."

His panicked look had hardened into something cold and threatening. He mouthed a single word at me.

"Go."

My heart dropped like a stone. Tears streamed down my face — but he didn't flinch. Not even a little.

When my parents died, he'd kissed every single tear away and swore he would never let me cry again.

Even when things got passionate between us, he'd always held back, afraid of hurting me.

But now, looking at me sobbing, all I saw in his eyes was irritation — his whole heart was focused on protecting another woman.

My legs felt like lead. I couldn't move.

His expression shifted to outright anger. "She's pregnant. Take your disgusting trash and leave before you upset her — you don't want that on your conscience."

Disgusting trash.

I looked down at the small box of ashes in my hands, eyes blurred with tears, my mind flooding with memories.

I'd been in a car accident years ago that left me unable to conceive easily. On our wedding day, Ethan had given me Dada as a gift.

His eyes had been so steady, so full of love. *"Dada will be with us from now on. Having you is enough for me."*

I'd blamed myself so many times for not being able to give us a child. But he'd always told me it didn't matter.

His phone camera roll was packed with photos and videos of me playing with Dada.

And now he'd used my beloved pet to impress his mistress.

My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan.

*"Go home. I'll explain everything when I get back."*

But before I could move, the pregnant woman had already turned around and spotted me.

I recognized that young girl. I'd seen her on Ethan's computer before.

He'd told me she was a struggling college student his company was sponsoring. Her name was Yvonne.

Ethan shot to his feet, startled. "She's a neighbor from upstairs. Probably got the wrong floor."

Yvonne gave a sweet smile. "The duck is done roasting. Why don't we invite her to eat with us?"

A sentence I'd been subconsciously blocking out suddenly resurfaced in my mind.

I couldn't stop myself from wondering — was it possible that what was cooking in that kitchen right now was my Dada?

Sure enough, I caught a brief, unmistakable flicker of unease on Ethan's face.

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