Chapter 2
On the receipt was a long list of products-from imported baby formula to a custom crib-all for a child.
At the very bottom was a handwritten delivery address.
It wasn’t our home, and it wasn’t Anthony’s either.
Clutching the receipt, I called my best friend, Stephanie Garcia.
She was a top private investigator with wild connections.
tan
“Stephanie, I’ve got an address. Can you check the resident and see if she has any ties to Gregory?”
In the next few days, Gregory treated me with overwhelming sweetness.
Morning kisses, good night hugs, drove me to and from work, and took care of all the housework.
He acted like a husband who was still hurt from being misunderstood, desperate to make amends.
On Wednesday night, my mother-in-law called.
She started by asking how I’d been doing, then quickly changed the subject.
“Catherine, you and Gregory have been married five years now. Why aren’t you pregnant yet?
“Men love kids. You need to take this seriously.
“Our Gregory has a successful career and is so loyal to his family. You have to hold on to him tight.”
Every word was like a pinprick-not enough to kill, but sharp enough to hurt.
I brushed her off and hung up.
Gregory walked out of the kitchen with a plate of cut fruit and sat beside me.
“My mom pushed you for a baby again?”
I nodded.
He sighed and pulled me into his arms.
“Forget what she says. We’ll let things happen naturally.
“Whether you have a child or not, I’ll always love you.”
He said it so sweetly.
0.0 %
11:51
པ་་་་ ་་་ ་་
Lying against him, all I smelled was the stench of rotten lies.
On Friday, Stephanie called.
“Got it.”
Her voice was cold.
“The one living there is Emily Watson, twenty-two years old. She just joined Gregory’s company two months ago.
“She looks innocent, talks sweet, and knows how to play the game.
“Most importantly, I found an appointment at a private maternity hospital.
“The appointment was made by Gregory. The pregnant woman was Emily.”
My chest hurt so bad I could hardly breathe.
Stephanie sneered.
“There’s worse.
“I hacked her Instagram. She set it to be visible only to certain people.
“It’s full of her and Gregory’s love life.”
I hung up and opened the screenshots she sent.
Emily’s account name was Spoilt Kitten.
The newest post was from three days ago.
“Mr. L said I’m his most precious treasure. He wants to give me and the baby a home.
“Next month at the family dinner, he’ll give me a surprise.’
The picture showed a luxury jewelry box with a diamond necklace I had never seen before.
The brand was the same one Gregory told me last week he’d bought as a small gift for an important female client.
I scrolled down.
“My stomach hurt so bad during my period. Mr. L came at midnight with hot chocolate and painkillers, then held me all night.
“He said he would never let me suffer again.”
The picture showed Gregory’s side profile, sound asleep, with his hand resting on Emily’s waist.
The location was our guest bedroom.
The one I had prepared for him when he came home late and didn’t want to disturb me.
44.4 %
11:51
I scrolled further.
“Mr. L has such good taste. This white Tesla is gorgeous! He said it’s the stroller for our baby.”
The picture showed her sitting in the passenger seat, making a peace sign at the center screen.
On the screen was the same memo I had seen.
The phone slipped from my trembling hand and crashed to the floor.
90.2 %
