Chapter 3: Your Husband Loves Me

Elena's POV

Daisy's warning came sharp and impatient. "If you want to stay by Lucas's side, don't meddle in things that don't concern you!"

"Daisy Lyall!" I wasn't one to be pushed around, and what she'd just said had lit a fire in me. I jumped off the bed and blocked her path, forcing her to face me directly.

"You'd better explain yourself! What do you mean I can't give Lucas a child? That Lucas wants children and will only have them with another woman?"

Daisy hesitated, clearly holding something back, but I grabbed her arm before she could retreat. "Well? Are you going to say it, or is this just you showing your true colors—that you've always had feelings for Lucas and you're cursing me out of jealousy because I'm the one who married him?"

Daisy yanked her arm free and smiled through gritted teeth. "Elena, there are plenty of women who like Lucas! I'll admit it—I'm one of them!"

"But you need to remember this: you will never be able to stay by Lucas's side forever. Your background isn't worthy of being his wife. Understand?"

So she'd finally admitted it. Daisy loved Lucas.

But I knew my husband loved only me now, and she was nothing more than a sore loser barking at me like a rabid dog.

"Daisy, sorry to disappoint you, but I am Lucas's wife right now, and I will be the mother of his children. I'll be carrying his baby before you know it, and all you'll ever be is a bystander watching our love story unfold."

Daisy suddenly threw her head back and laughed, the sound edged with something wild and triumphant.

"What are you laughing at, Daisy? Can't handle losing?"

When she'd laughed enough, she wiped away tears of mirth, and her expression turned cold as her gaze dropped to my stomach. "Elena, remember what I'm telling you. You will never bear Lucas's child. But Lucas needs children, and he'll find another woman to give them to him."

"Daisy, you're talking nonsense!"

She shouldered past me without another word and stormed out. I was angry too.

I loved Lucas more than anyone else could. I wanted to have his children—I'd been working toward that goal from the moment we'd married. What gave Daisy the right to curse me? To say I couldn't give Lucas children? She was jealous. That had to be it.

Anger coursed through me, but I'd always been good at managing my emotions. When my mood soured, I liked to throw myself into housework, keeping my hands busy until my heart settled. I spotted the maid picking up scattered laundry from the floor and quickly stopped her.

"I'll wash them today."

"Yes, Ms. Bennett!"

I gathered the clothes from the floor, holding my husband's garments close like they were his arms around me, offering comfort. The simple act soothed me a little.

Then something fell from Lucas's pocket with a soft clatter. A lipstick rolled to a stop near my feet. I bent down and picked it up, twisted open the cap, and turned the tube. The lipstick had been used—there were clear marks where it had been applied.

Barbie pink. The shade I hated most. Definitely not mine.

My phone buzzed on the bed. I picked it up and saw another anonymous message. The content read:

[Elena, the person your husband loves is me! He lost the lipstick he gave me, so he went to the counter first thing this morning and bought me a new one.]

Below the text was a photo. A woman's sensual lips painted in that same Barbie pink shade, her body pressed close to a man's muscular arm, her revealing red lace nightgown leaving little to the imagination. Once again, the woman's face was hidden, and the man's face wasn't shown either.

But on the man's upper arm was a tattoo—three letters: E-L-N. Elena. My name. When Lucas and I got married, even though it had been just the two of us at the ceremony, he'd told me the tattoo was the most special gift he could give me, a permanent mark of his love.

I stared at those letters on the screen, my eyes burning. Daisy's parting words echoed in my mind: I couldn't give Lucas children, and Lucas would find another woman to bear them for him. It all seemed to connect, forming a pattern I couldn't ignore. How could I not take this to heart?

Tears slid down my cheeks without warning, cold against my skin. I scrubbed them away forcefully. The photo had to be doctored. So many women wanted my husband—this kind of cheap trick wouldn't break me. I forced a strained smile onto my face and went back to gathering the dirty clothes, shoving everything into the washing machine. It felt like stuffing all my worries inside, washing them clean.

I kept myself busy with chores, even competing with the maid for tasks, anything to keep my mind occupied. It worked until Lucas came home.

The moment I saw his handsome, warm smile, all the morning's unpleasantness came flooding back. I knew this was something I had to face.

As always, the first thing Lucas did when he got home was hand me his briefcase and suit jacket, then pull me into his arms for a deep kiss. But today I didn't reach out to take them. Instead, I called for the maid to handle it.

"Babe, I missed you so much!"

As Lucas wrapped his arms around my shoulders, I caught a whiff of perfume on him—sweet, cloying, unmistakably feminine. It wasn't the cologne Lucas usually wore, and it certainly wasn't my perfume. When he leaned in to kiss me, I pushed him away.

"Lucas, can we talk?"

Lucas noticed immediately that something was different today. Without caring that the maid was still nearby, he swept me up into his arms and carried me upstairs to the bedroom. The short distance felt endless.

When he laid me gently on the bed and moved to pin me beneath him, I cut straight to the point. "Lucas, are you seeing another woman?"

Lucas froze for a moment. Then, as if I'd told the world's funniest joke, he burst into warm, easy laughter.

"Darling, what are you thinking? You know the only person I've ever loved is you!"

I couldn't laugh. Every month there were a few days when Lucas arranged for me to travel, insisting I stay away from home. Looking back now, when I'd returned yesterday, the look in his eyes hadn't been joy—it had been guilt and evasion.

What was he afraid of? What secret was he hiding in this house?

Mrs. Gray said Lucas had never owned a dog, so why had he lied to me? And that woman had been sending me messages since the day before yesterday, every single one revolving around her and Lucas. Were they really not involved?

My head throbbed, my thoughts a tangled mess I couldn't sort through.

Lucas pressed a finger gently to my forehead, his low voice laced with amusement, pulling me back to the present. "What's going on in that pretty head, babe?"

I took a deep breath and asked him point-blank, "How did a lipstick end up in your pocket? And why do you smell like another woman's perfume?"

Lucas answered without hesitation, completely unbothered. "I found the lipstick. I was going to ask around the office to see whose it was, but I got busy and forgot. As for the perfume, more than half my company is female employees. They're constantly coming to me to sign documents or discuss business. It's normal to pick up their scent. That's not strange, is it?"

His explanation was smooth, natural, leaving no room for doubt. I questioned myself—was I overthinking this? Was I wrongly accusing my husband again?

Lucas kissed my forehead, then climbed off me. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his full, sculpted chest. Years of consistent training had given him sharply defined abs and that perfect V-line, devastatingly attractive as he teased me, "Baby! I'm going to take a shower, and when I come back, I'm kissing you again. That's your compensation for breaking my heart!"

My cheeks flushed as I sat up, cupped his face, and kissed him. "I'll be waiting, my love!"

As he disappeared into the bathroom, I sat on the bed, still questioning myself. He'd been nothing but honest and gentle with me, as if he'd given me all his patience and love. What reason did I have to doubt a man who loved me so deeply?

Suddenly, his phone on the bed lit up with a new message. It was Lucas's phone. I glanced at it, and my gaze locked onto the screen, my heart skipping a beat.

The notification showed a contact named Sweet An, with a red rose as the profile picture. A message from a woman? In the entire year we'd been married, this had never happened after he came home.

Curiosity overwhelmed me. I picked up the phone and entered the passcode he'd given me, wanting to see what the message said.