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His eyes narrowed into slits. I could see the gears turning slowly behind them.

What my husband, Marsden, and Dr. Carmichael did was illegal, unethical, and entirely immoral.

They deserved to rot in jail for the rest of their lives.

They deserved worse for how they had violated my body and my children’s bodies.

But I didn’t want any of it to be public.

I couldn’t let it be my children’s legacy.

I reached out to grab his arm. “I’ll tell Veronica,” I croaked in a strangled voice. I hated myself for sounding so desperate. He had barely said a word. I had played all my cards for nothing. I had no confession.

Marsden plastered a massive smile on his face, and I cringed when I noticed his dimples looked exactly like Alice’s. Would I ever be able to look at my children and not see this vile man? He glanced around the room and then pulled out his wallet to drop money on the table. Another power move.

He whispered so only I could hear it. “Don’t fuck with me, Rebecca. I’ll destroy you.”

I knew that he meant it. I knew I had to find a way to destroy him first. The clock was ticking.

***

I confronted Gray next. The children were off at an annual checkup in the city that I had hastily scheduled and asked Kiki to take them to.

It was a Thursday, but I told Stacy not to come. Media day would have to wait.

Gray and I had breakfast together, something we hadn’t done in years, just the two of us alone.

It was almost nice. Or at least it looked that way.

He made me pancakes like he did when I was first pregnant with Alice, smothered in thick butter made right there on our farm.

I wanted him to be calm when I confronted him.

I even considered leading him up to our bedroom to use sex to lull him into submission, but every time I looked up at him I choked back bile so thick I worried I would gag and give myself away.

I had to scare him, catch him off guard.

So I lied.

“I’m pregnant,” I told him through a perfect smile. My eyes never left his. What would he do? What would he think? He had accepted James as his own, but another one?

“Are you sure?” he stuttered.

“Positive.” I placed my hand angelically on my belly. “Why do you look so surprised, Gray?” When our eyes met, I allowed my gaze to harden.

So did his. I felt the anger radiating off him. He knew he was being played, but he didn’t know the game.

“Have you been to Dr. Carmichael to confirm?”

I shook my head. “I’ve decided to see a new doctor. Someone Olivia recommended.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he managed.

“I wanted to see a woman,” I added for good measure, feeling like a cat dangling a mouse between its claws.

“You should see Dr. Carmichael to be sure.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Grayson?”

“What do you think you know?” he snarled.

I suppose that standoff could have gone on all day. But I didn’t let it. “You and Dr. Carmichael did a terrible thing. You allowed that old man to trick me. You both manipulated me.” Gray stood suddenly, so quickly that his chair clattered to the floor, but I didn’t let it stop me.

“Our children. Our beautiful children. They aren’t yours.”

“They are mine,” he roared.

“They’re Marsden’s.” The angrier he became the calmer I felt. I was the eye in the center of a hurricane. Unflappable.

And Gray was erratic. “I’m the reason they are here. Whatever you think you know is a disgusting lie. Did this come from Marsden? Have the two of you been talking?”

I laughed right in Gray’s face. My husband despised being laughed at.

That was enough to light the fuse. He crossed the distance between us in seconds.

Before I could utter another word he struck me with his open palm flat across my cheek and left eye.

As I fell to the floor he kicked me swiftly in the stomach.

Before I could recover, his hands were on my shoulders, pulling me upright and then tightening around my neck.

“Those children are mine,” he hissed. Flashbacks to the last time he hurt me physically were inevitable.

I had prepared myself for it this time, but it didn’t hurt any less.

He was also sober now and that felt different.

He had no excuse except for his anger and his terrible deeds.

He could never apologize his way out of this. We were finished and he knew it.

His grip tightened, but I didn’t drop my gaze from his. I was no longer an awestruck young woman desperate for love and affection.

I let him continue to squeeze, let him think he was draining the life from me, before finally mustering every ounce of strength I had left and slamming my knee upward directly into his balls.

I choked and gasped as he backed away, reached behind me for the butcher knife I’d used to slice the sausage from the roll just that morning.

“Get the fuck out of my house, Grayson. I will stab you and watch you bleed to death on this floor. I’ll watch you cry for your mother.

Get out and never come back.” I thought he might charge me again, but he backed off.

He still didn’t know exactly what I knew or how I knew it.

The ball was in my court, and I know he would have kept squeezing my windpipe until the life drained out of me if I hadn’t been strong enough to kick him.

I lunged forward, allowing the tip of the blade to nick his freshly ironed plaid shirt.

Blood peeped out from the small tear. He turned then and walked through the door, out to the barn.

I managed to crawl through the kitchen and up the stairs to my bathroom.

Only then did I collapse into the darkness. And I still didn’t have a confession.