Knelt in front of the colleague who ran the lab, crying, and begged her for a falsified report.
Clint glanced at it and tossed it aside. His lip curled. "My family's empire, my bloodline, and I married a woman who can't even give me an heir. What rotten luck."
That was the moment I tasted it—the bitterness of pouring everything into someone and getting nothing back.
My mother sensed some of what I was going through. But she could see how stubbornly I clung to Clint, how nothing would pry me loose, so she didn't dare push for divorce outright. She could only drop hints. So-and-so got remarried after her divorce and had a big healthy boy. So-and-so's daughter is already three…
I understood her. I was her only child, and she wanted a grandchild.
Three months later, I saw Clint in a luxury boutique, arm in arm with a young woman.
The handbag the sales associate had set aside for me, he gave to her.
The girl had clearly seen photos of me before. The second she spotted me, one corner of her mouth twitched up, a smug little glance thrown my way.
Then she leaned forward on purpose, one hand cradling the slight swell of her belly.
She might as well have been measuring my home for new curtains.