Chapter 3

Jane's POV

Beatrice glanced at Matthew first, silently seeking his permission.

Matthew gave her a tiny nod.

"It's true," Beatrice said. "Miss Zoe says it's a rare opportunity, and it'll help me get into a good dance company someday."

I looked at her for a moment.

"You're only eight. Do you really need to start planning your future career already?"

"Blair went when she was eight, too," Beatrice replied defiantly. "If you don't work hard, you'll get left behind. Daddy is right. You don't understand any of this."

She was only eight years old, yet she lied without the slightest hesitation. There wasn't even a trace of guilt on her face.

She was becoming exactly like Matthew.

His betrayal had broken my heart, but the look in my daughter's eyes—the coldness, the complicity—was what truly crushed me.

Even the little girl I'd carried for nine months was helping him cover up his affair with that woman.

Didn't she realize that this would only push her mother farther away?

Or did she simply not want me to be her mother anymore?

"I won't let you go," I said.

Matthew's expression darkened.

"Jane."

"Three months is too long. I won't agree to—"

"Can you stop trying to control everything?" Matthew interrupted impatiently. "This is important for Beatrice's future."

"I'm asking Beatrice what she wants."

"I want to go!" Beatrice snapped. "I want to be with Daddy. You never let me do anything!"

Matthew leaned back against the sofa, making no effort to stop her.

I looked at him.

"I know it's a good opportunity. But I'd like to know whose opportunity it really is."

His expression faltered.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not taking Beatrice to Montana."

I took a breath.

"You're taking Zoe to Europe. You're going to Tuscany with her for three months."

Matthew's face drained of color.

"That's ridiculous."

"I was outside your office that afternoon. I heard everything you told Chris. You're using your daughter as an excuse to take your mistress on a three-month trip."

Matthew's jaw tightened.

I turned to Beatrice.

"And you knew about it. You knew your father was lying to me, didn't you?"

Beatrice hesitated for only a second.

"So what if I did?" she shot back. "At least Daddy doesn't embarrass me in front of my friends. At least Miss Zoe knows how to dress and how to treat people. She doesn't act like you!"

I stumbled backward, catching the dining chair behind me.

"Listen to what you're saying..."

"Just look at yourself." Matthew's voice turned ice-cold. "You're hysterical and talking nonsense. Jane, you're seriously unwell."

"I'm not sick." I stared at him. "You're the ones who are sick. You're willing to use your own daughter just so you can be with that woman. And Zoe's so-called depression is nothing but a lie!"

"Shut up!" Matthew roared.

"Am I wrong?" I pointed toward the staircase. "Just look at what she wears when she comes to our house to give our daughter 'private lessons.' Those low-cut, skin-tight outfits. That perfume practically dripping with sexual innuendo. She even dares to put her hand on your thigh right in our living room!"

Matthew strode toward me, as if he intended to silence me by force.

"Zoe is my patient!" he spat through clenched teeth. "She's also Beatrice's dance instructor. I'm helping her because I want her to take better care of Beatrice."

"She's your mistress!" I screamed.

"I've given everything to this family. I've let myself become this exhausted, and I'm carrying your child right now. Yet you're planning to abandon me for three months so you can run off with another woman!"

Matthew reached for my arm.

"You're insane. You're making all this up—"

"I'm not making anything up!"

I jerked away from him.

"The reason I've been feeling so unwell, the reason I've gained weight and keep getting dizzy, isn't because I'm sick. It's because I'm pregnant with your child. The hospital has already confirmed it."

I thought that would make him stop.

I thought it would at least give him a moment of hesitation.

But it didn't.

He simply stared at me coldly, then let out a short, mocking laugh.

"Is this your new trick?" Matthew shook his head. "You want to stop Beatrice from going to summer camp so badly, and you're so desperate to maintain your suffocating control over everyone, that you'd actually make up a pregnancy?"

"I have the test results—"

"Enough!"

This time, it was Beatrice who screamed.

She charged toward me like a lit firecracker, her face twisted with rage.

"You're trying to ruin everything!"

She shoved me with all her strength.

"Get out of the way! Stop blocking us from going!"

I lost my balance.

My abdomen slammed hard against the sharp corner of the solid wooden coffee table.

For a split second, the entire world went blank.

Then an excruciating pain tore through my stomach.

Almost immediately, a warm liquid began streaming down between my legs.