But Louis turned to me, his eyes sharp as ever, his voice was filled with disgust. “You see, this is what a woman does. She brings life into this world. Not like you, Alexandra.”
I blinked, stunned into silence.
“Three years, Alexandra. Three years, and nothing. What good are you, huh?” he said, his voice low but cutting. “You sit there, pretty and useless, while others—real women—do what you can’t.”
A chill ran down my spine. His words hit harder than any physical blow ever could. My secret, once something I’d clung to with hope, felt like it was slipping from my grasp.
I wanted to scream at him, to throw the truth in his face, but my voice was gone, stolen by the shock and the betrayal. How could he say that to me now? How could he, when I carried his child?
Before I could gather the strength to speak, Louis stood, straightening his jacket.
“I’m going to Jane’s to celebrate,” he announced to the room. Then, with a cold glance in my direction, he added, “Don’t wait up.”
The door slammed behind him, and I was left alone at the table, surrounded by men who wouldn’t dare meet my eyes.
Tears threatened to spill over, but I swallowed them back. I had been through worse. I had to be stronger than this.
I looked around, the clinking glasses and murmured conversations now distant noise. I had to tell him. He needed to know the truth. But not like this—not when he was with her.
My hands trembled as I stood from the table. I could feel their eyes on me, watching, waiting to see if I would crumble.
But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
I sat on the edge of the bed, numb and staring into nothing. Louis’ words echoed in my mind, their sharp edges cutting deeper with each replay.
Useless. Pretty and useless.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling the faintest flicker of life beneath my fingertips. The child Louis had wanted for so long, the one that was supposed to bring us closer together, felt more like a burden now than a blessing.
How could I raise a child with a man who treated me like this? How could I let my baby grow up in a world where its father cherished someone else more than its mother?
Jane. It always came back to her. From the beginning, Louis had been obsessed with her. She wasn’t just his god-sister; she was his ideal woman. Every time she entered a room, his gaze would shift, his posture would change, and I would fade into the background.