Page 18

I sat in the darkness of the living room, my fury simmering beneath the surface as I waited patiently for her return. Like it wasn't enough that she’d met up with that bastard Connor and kept her mouth shut, she had the effrontery to leave the house without my permission.

I was almost certain she'd gone out to meet him again.

How dare she?

My blood boiled at the thought of his hands around her body, and my fingers balled into fists.

My jaw clenched, feeling the jolt of anger coursing through my veins like electricity. I hated the fact she was making all these wrong decisions over stuff that never even happened. If she’d listened to me, she'd have realized that she was wrong and that what she saw wasn't what it seemed like.

Now, she was hanging out with Connor, seeking comfort in his company and, perhaps, his embrace. My fists tightened, accentuating the deep scowl on my face. Next time I met with that son of a bitch, I'd put two fucking bullets in his skull.

The image of Connor's eyes fixed on hers, with his hand under her chin, still lingered in my mind. I hadn't gotten over that yet. However, I was willing to have a decent conversation with her after work. To my surprise, though, she wasn't home when I returned.

Where was she? Nobody had a fucking clue. One of the maids said that she'd spotted my wife dressed in an all-black ensemble while driving out of the compound. Judging by what the maid had described, it seemed like my wife didn't want anyone to recognize her.

Why the disguise? Where the fuck was she going to that she felt the need to mask her identity?

My chest rose and fell with anger as I sat on a sofa, legs crossed, doing my best to exude an air of confidence and composure. However, deep down, it was chaotic within me, and I was on the verge of an outburst. I appeared to be in control of my rage, but I wasn't, and I was afraid that it might get the better of me.

I wasn't sure what I'd do when she returned, and that bothered me. The sun had fallen, giving way to the darkness, yet she still hadn't come home.

Thoughts of her being intimate with Connor occupied my mind, fueling my rage and hatred for the man. The more I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, the more impossible it became.

She'd given me multiple reasons to suspect her, and there was little to nothing I could do about that. She’d met with Connor behind my back and didn't say anything about it, and now she snuck out of the house in a disguise and hadn't returned home yet.

I felt like I was losing my mind with every minute that went by when she wasn't back.

Then I heard it: the sound of footsteps approaching the front door. This better be her. I couldn't stand another minute of waiting.

The door opened, and her scent wafted through the air. A fleeting wind of relief blew across my face that she was finally home, alive and well. Now, onto the real deal.

She switched on the lights and immediately flinched at the sight of me. Her eyes widened in a mix of fear and what looked like guilt. Her breath caught in her throat, and I could almost hear the sound of her heart pounding in her chest.

Why was she so afraid if she wasn't guilty of anything?

Her fear and anxiety only confirmed my suspicion. She was hiding something; I could tell. But what was it?

I suppressed the idea that she might have been intimate with Connor. I couldn't bear that thought and accuse her without any form of concrete evidence. The photo of them together in the park didn't mean she gave herself to him, the same way that what she saw the other day didn't mean I fucked Jennifer.

However, I still needed answers directly from her lips. I still needed an explanation as to why she met with him in the first place and where the fuck she'd been all day.

“Where were you?” I demanded, my voice low and venomous, my eyes never leaving her face.

She went silent, her gaze dropping to the floor. Subtly, her body tensed as she stood frozen in shock.

I gritted my teeth, my chest burning with fury, as her silence only infuriated me the more. “Tessa,” I called, anger simmering beneath the surface. “Where were you?” I reiterated, my piercing gaze unwavering.

Again, she was silent—too afraid, too numb to speak.

I watched her eyes widen as I rose to my feet and walked toward her. Her chest rose and fell, overwhelmed with tension. Her lips trembled, and her eyes misted where she stood, rooted to the spot.

“Don't make me ask you again,” I warned, my hands snapping out to grab her arms, my tone low and malicious.

She flinched, wincing at the pain as my grip tightened, my fingers digging into my flesh. “Can we not do this right now? I'm tired,” she said in almost a whisper, her voice trembling.

“Tired?” My expression darkened, mirroring my displeasure and disbelief. “You come home at this time of night after sneaking out of the house, and you say you're tired?” I questioned through gritted teeth, my eyes narrowing and my grip tightening.

“You're hurting me.” She winced, her face contorting in agony as she tried to squirm out of my hold, but my grip was firm.

“Were you with him, hmm?” I demanded, shaking her body. “Were you with him?” My voice rose a little higher.

“With who?” she stuttered, fear flickering in her misted eyes, a glint of confusion flashing across her face.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Tessa!” I snarled in her face.

She steeled herself, her body stiffening as she pulled her head backward, momentarily shutting her eyes. “I don't know who you're talking about!”

Her mock ignorance fueled my rage, and my body trembled as I struggled not to lose control. I was no longer the calm and composed Erik she knew; I was someone else, something else—cold and dangerous. “I know that you secretly met Connor the day you left my office,” I said, my fingers pressing against her arms.

“Erik, you're hurting me,” she whimpered, pleading with her eyes, which were brimming with tears.

“Were you with him today? Is that where you're coming from?” I demanded, disregarding the pain I was causing her.

“No,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I'm coming from the hospital.”

My eyes narrowed, creating subtle lines between them as confusion washed over me. Why was she at the hospital? Was she unwell?

Silently, I released her arms, my gaze locked onto her.

She sniffled and wiped her tears, then dug into her purse and withdrew a piece of printed paper. “Here.” She handed it over to me.

I squinted, accepting it from her. “What's this?”

“It's the pregnancy test results,” she replied, her voice firm and expression stern. “I'm pregnant, Erik.”

My brows arched at her words, and my eyes moved to the statement on the paper to see for myself. She wasn't kidding.

I lowered my head, rubbing my forehead as a thousand thoughts overlapped in my mind. I'm gonna be a father? So soon? My fingers combed my hair backward as I tried to process the whole situation.

“We should have used protection that night,” she said, her voice flat and dripping with regret. “Or maybe you shouldn't have come in me. At least we wouldn't have made the huge mistake.”

Her words stung like a bee, especially since I believed we had shared something that night.

I felt my anger fade, replaced by a sense of responsibility now that we were expecting.

“Well, this ‘huge mistake’ isn't yours to bear alone,” I said, staring into her eyes. “We'll face the consequences together.”

She squinted, her eyes narrowing to mirror her confusion. “What consequences?”

I paused for a moment, savoring my next words, knowing it would spark her defiance. But I didn't give a shit. Perhaps this was a good thing—a silver lining in this dark cloud.

“What consequences are you talking about, Erik?” she demanded, her tone curious and impatient.

“There's a baby on the way now,” I began, holding her gaze, my voice firm and audacious. “That being said, there will be no divorce between us.”

“What? No!” she protested, her voice rising as defiance blazed in her eyes. “You can't be serious! We had a deal!” she shouted at me, her voice faltering under the weight of her pain.

“That deal was before your pregnancy!” I replied with the same volume, my voice overshadowing hers. “There's a baby coming, and I will not have it raised in a broken home,” I added, taking a few steps toward her. “So, I suggest you get your shit together because forever is a long time.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as her lips trembled. Defeat was etched in her gaze as she glared at me, speechless. She wasn't in support of this, but she knew she had no choice. My tone was laced with finality, leaving no room for debate.

Starting now, this baby was my number one priority, and its arrival would change everything. Was this a change we were ready for? Perhaps not. But we didn't have a choice. The baby's interest must come before ours.

Despite our differences, we'd have to figure out a way to coexist in this house, at least for the baby's sake. Henceforth, she was stuck with me, just as I was stuck with her.