A Perfect Love Story Built on Lies

Jane's POV

I clutched the pregnancy test results in my hand, standing in the shadows of the hallway.

I wanted to tell my husband that we were finally having another baby.

Instead, I overheard him complaining about my "suffocating" love and promising his mistress that he would get rid of me soon.

Then I heard him reveal his plan to take her to Tuscany for three months, using our daughter and a fake summer camp as his cover.

I swallowed the news I had been so eager to share. Suddenly, I didn't know if I wanted him to know about the child at all.

——

"Honestly? I'm losing my mind."

I had just raised my hand to open the door when I heard Matthew's frustrated voice from inside.

"What happened this time?" Chris asked. He was Matthew's college roommate.

"She did. Jane."

Matthew let out an exasperated sigh.

"She even controls what Beatrice eats now. She checks her lunchbox every day and emails the school to confirm the menu."

"That sounds pretty normal. She just cares about her daughter's health."

"Last week, she actually showed up at the dance studio and cornered Zoe in the parking lot."

"An interrogation in the parking lot? That doesn't sound good."

"Can you imagine?" Matthew's voice rose. "She demanded to know why Zoe spends ten minutes alone with Beatrice after every class."

"Zoe is just a dedicated dance instructor. What does Jane want? To guard her territory like some rabid dog?"

My fingernails dug into my palms.

"She even accused Zoe of trying to seduce me."

"Didn't you used to love that about her?" Chris said with a mocking laugh. "You used to say her jealousy proved how much she loved you. You even said the way she took care of Beatrice was—"

"That was then." Matthew cut him off. "Back then, I thought she was devoted. Now, I just feel like I can't breathe around her. You know what? Beatrice told me yesterday that she wished Zoe were her mother. Zoe takes her out for ice cream, compliments her dancing, and never shows up in front of her friends wearing some pilled old sweater."

Chris fell silent for a moment.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I have a plan." Matthew lowered his voice. "I'll tell Jane I'm taking Beatrice to a dance summer camp in Montana. Beatrice will go along with it. She's helped me cover for things like this before."

"And what are you actually doing?"

"I'm taking Zoe to Europe." Matthew's voice dropped even lower. "She's always wanted to visit Tuscany. Says the light there is perfect for photography. We'll rent an estate and stay for three months."

My knees went weak. I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself.

"Won't Jane get suspicious?"

"Beatrice will help me keep the story straight. We've done this before, and it always works." Matthew chuckled. "I've already told her it's our little secret. I'll even sneak her the snacks her mother won't let her have. She's eight. Give a kid a few treats, and she'll do whatever you want."

"Do you really think Jane will believe the summer camp story?"

"Of course she will. She trusts Beatrice. Besides, she's been in pretty bad shape lately." He paused. "She's always complaining about dizziness, and she's put on quite a bit of weight. By the time we get back in three months, everything will be over."

"What will be over?"

Matthew didn't answer immediately.

"I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe that suffocating love of hers."

I should have stormed into the room.

I should have slapped the pregnancy test results in his face and told him that the weight he'd been complaining about wasn't ordinary weight gain. I was carrying his second child.

But I didn't.

I slowly let go of the doorframe and turned around. The hallway seemed impossibly long, as though I'd never reach the end of it.

The sunlight outside was painfully bright. I stood at the clinic entrance, clutching my pregnancy report until it became a damp, crumpled ball of paper.

I drove to Beatrice's dance studio. I wanted to know what my daughter thought.

Her class wouldn't end for another twenty minutes. I parked across the street and sat behind the wheel, watching the mothers gradually arrive. They wore fitted leggings and carefully applied makeup, holding their phones as they greeted one another and chatted with easy smiles.

I glanced down at myself.

A sweatshirt I'd been wearing for four days. My hair was carelessly tied back with an elastic, with loose strands falling around my face. I had no makeup on, and the dark circles beneath my eyes were too deep for even concealer to hide.

Ever since this pregnancy began, I'd been constantly nauseated and exhausted. I barely had the energy to take care of myself.

But it had never occurred to me that these symptoms might mean I was pregnant. After all, Matthew and I had been sleeping in separate rooms for so long.

Except for that one night after the annual company party, when he'd come home so drunk he could barely stand.

The class finally ended.

The children came pouring out. I spotted Beatrice near the front, walking with two other girls. She wore a pink dance dress, and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail.

"Beatrice!"

I rolled down the window, leaned out, and waved.

The girls beside her noticed me first.

"Beatrice, is that your mom?"

"Are you kidding?" one of them scoffed. "Beatrice said her mom wears designer outfits every day. She's supposed to be a hundred times more elegant than Miss Zoe."

The moment Beatrice turned and saw me, her expression changed. Her smile disappeared.

"That's Mrs. Bates," she said. "Our new housekeeper."