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"I know," she finally says. "I judged and condemned her."
"We all did."
"But she forgave you."
"Not yet. But she will, one day."
"You’ve changed a lot."
"I love her, Maryann. And that’s not going to change. Taylor is my woman, she will be the mother of my child, but she is also my home. And I won’t rest until I’ve won her back completely."
Taylor
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Today isthe day of my second ultrasound.
During the first one, we weren’t able to determine the baby’s sex.
I moved into William’s house as we agreed, but I don’t feel like it’s mine, even though he’s doing everything he can to make it comfortable for me. He even suggested that we buy a new house so our child could have more space to play.
Besides the support of Jackie—the sister life gave me—I’ve also grown close to Brooklyn and her sister, Madison.
Their stepmother, Eleanor, is also a wonderful person.
Little by little, I’m surrounding myself with people who care about me, leaving my days of solitude behind. But I still can’t feel happy.
I never will, not completely, until my memory returns.
A few days after I moved into his house, William told me about his conversations with Sherie and his mother.
I was surprised that the former housekeeper of Mrs. Marshall, in the name of her confessed love for William, had revealed something to him that ultimately defended me.
And now, the father of my child has ordered a manhunt for Mr. Marshall to ensure he answers for the crimes we believe he committed.
Kidnapping?
It still doesn’t make sense.
How did I end up in a coma, with broken legs? If he was the one who took me, wouldn’t he have hidden me away in an isolated place instead of allowing me to be photographed on islands around the world?
There are still too many gaps in my story. Empty spaces that haunt me with nightmares and, sometimes, panic attacks.
"What do you want it to be? A boy or a girl?" William asks, holding my hand as the doctor prepares to begin the exam.
"I have no preference."
I watch him staring at the screen, and guilt washes over me.
I know I’m depressed. I can’t feel the happiness that most expectant mothers do, because deep down, I’m terrified of the possibility that before waking up in that hospital, his vile father might have touched me.
"Doctor, could you give us a moment?" I ask, and William looks at me in confusion.
The doctor leaves with the nurse, and I sit up against the pillows, patting the mattress for him to come closer.
"What’s going on?" he asks.
"I’m scared."