Chapter 4 Am I Pregnant?

"Who are you yelling at?" Wendy shot Marcus a displeased look. "If you're so worried about me giving jewelry to the servants, I can give it to Cassie instead. Though I'm not sure she'd want something secondhand."

"Wendy!" Marcus snapped, his voice sharp with fury. "Cassie isn't as materialistic as you. Get out here!"

His grip was shockingly strong as he dragged her toward the door, his fingers clamped around her wrist so hard she thought the bone might crack.

"That hurts. Can you ease up?"

On top of the pain in her wrist, Wendy kept getting hit with waves of dizziness. Her pregnancy had already been unstable, and Marcus had pulled her out of the hospital before she'd had a chance to recover. Getting up so suddenly hadn't helped either.

Her face twisted with discomfort. She pressed her right hand over her stomach and crouched down, looking absolutely miserable.

Marcus let out a cold laugh. "What are you pretending now?"

"Don't think putting on a show will get you off the hook. No matter what tricks you've got up your sleeve today, you're going to Grandpa's."

Wendy's eyes stung. No matter how bad she felt, he'd never care. He'd just assume she was faking it.

Marcus dragged her into the car without a second thought. She felt awful but had no choice but to grit her teeth.

"Can you roll down the window? I feel like I'm going to be sick."

"Is this all part of the act, or are you just going for the sympathy angle?"

Before the words had even settled, Marcus pulled her back against him from behind. "Still feel like throwing up? I can let you use my legs too."

He slid his hands under her and lifted her onto his lap.

His chest was solid and warm, and it did help, at least a little, with the headache and the tightness in her chest.

His breath was hot against her ear. "Better?"

Their faces were almost touching. Wendy turned her head and saw the mockery in his eyes clear as day.

She immediately put distance between them, bracing her hand against the car door, frowning. "No. You're being gross."

"Gross?" Marcus's expression darkened. He'd never been spoken to like that by a woman in his entire life.

Instead of letting go, he tightened his arm around her.

Wendy was about to protest when she heard him call the driver's name. "Roll down the window."

She exhaled in relief.

Still, they stayed locked in that stiff position the whole ride. Wendy barely dared to breathe, every nerve on edge.

They finally made it to Grandpa's house.

Marcus carried her out of the car first, then grabbed her hand before she could say a word.

Wendy tried to pull away, but Marcus leaned close to her ear. "Once we're inside, think carefully about what you say and what you don't."

Wendy paused, then let out a quiet, cold laugh.

"Worried I'll ruin things between you and Cassie? Don't overthink it. It's not like we just got married yesterday. I know how to behave."

Marcus frowned. "Since when did you get such a sharp tongue?"

Because you never cared about me, not once in all the years we've been married, Wendy thought.

She said nothing. Marcus didn't push it.

Grandpa had already come out to meet them.

At the dinner table, Wendy stared at the dishes that used to be her favorites. She had no appetite at all.

Not just no appetite. Her stomach was turning.

"Wendy, this is your favorite — grilled salmon."

Grandpa placed a piece on her plate, but the moment the smell hit her, a sharp, fishy odor made her stomach lurch. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from making a scene.

She couldn't hold it. She pushed back her chair and rushed to the bathroom.

"What's wrong with Wendy? Could she be pregnant?"

Marcus said out loud, "That'd be quite a coincidence," but inside, his heart was pounding. What if she actually was?

Grandpa gave him a sideways look. "You can't even pay attention to your own wife? What have you been doing — chasing after some other woman?"

"Grandpa, what have you been hearing?" Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"If you don't want people to know, don't do it in the first place." Old Mr. Sullivan scoffed. "Sullivan Corporation can't afford any scandal. If this thing with you and Cassie is nothing, fine. But if it's real..."

"I'll handle it," Marcus said without hesitation.

Old Mr. Sullivan said, "I hope you mean that."

Wendy came back just as she'd finished getting sick, and found both of them watching her with curiosity.

Marcus asked first. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"I'm not!" She realized how sharp that came out and quickly added, "My stomach's just off. Probably because I skipped breakfast."

"Ah, I see." Old Mr. Sullivan looked a little disappointed.

Marcus, on the other hand, looked like he'd just been let off the hook.

Wendy felt a sharp sting in her chest.

He really didn't love her. He didn't want her child either. Even if he found out the truth, he'd only see it as a burden.

"By the way, Wendy," Old Mr. Sullivan said, "there's been talk about you copying Cassie's painting. What actually happened?"

Wendy dug her nails into her palm. The pain sharpened her focus. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She didn't want to explain anymore. She was ready to just take the blame.

"Honestly, it's embarrassing. I have Marcus to thank — if he hadn't stepped in to clean up the mess, what I did could have dragged Sullivan Corporation's name through the mud."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell Marcus was pleased with her answer.

"We're family. No need to thank anyone. But something like this — unethical, shameful — it can never happen again."

Wendy pressed her nails deeper into her palm. "I'll remember that."

Then a heavy hand slammed down on the table. Old Mr. Sullivan stood up, his face flushed with anger. "This is absolutely ridiculous!"

"I looked into it myself. Wendy didn't copy anything!"

Marcus looked genuinely caught off guard. How was that possible?

"Grandpa, I know you're fond of her, but you can't just take her side so openly. If she didn't copy, then who did? Cassie?"

Old Mr. Sullivan scoffed. "You're the one playing favorites. You can suspect the woman who shares your bed, but somehow Cassie gets a free pass?"

Marcus's jaw tightened, his expression unreadable.

Wendy knew he resented what Grandpa had said, and that deep down, he had no respect for her at all.

But at least Grandpa believed her. He'd actually gone out of his way to find out the truth.

It didn't matter anymore. She was going to divorce him soon anyway. She was done letting him hurt her.

"Come upstairs with me."

Old Mr. Sullivan glanced at his grandson's stubborn, defiant expression and knew exactly what was going through his head.

Marcus's eyes drifted to Wendy. His face had been blank before, but now there was a flicker of something — almost like he was enjoying this.

"Don't think having someone in your corner means you can do whatever you want."

The smile faded from Wendy's face.

Old Mr. Sullivan said, "You give Wendy any more trouble, and I'll take a cane to you!"

Marcus didn't know what to say. Wendy couldn't be bothered to care. She'd been about to leave, but thinking of how much Grandpa had done for her, she felt she should stay and thank him in person.

Marcus followed Old Mr. Sullivan upstairs.

Wendy had no appetite and sat there restlessly for a while before the urge to go listen in crept up on her.

Grandpa's voice drifted out from the study. "I can agree to pour serious money into building Cassie's name — and as for the plagiarism matter, I can choose to let it go. But only on one condition: you cannot divorce Wendy."

Wendy stood outside the door, and it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head.