The room went quiet when I slid the ultrasound photo toward my husband. Damon barely looked at it before turning to his mother, who stood rocking the baby he'd carried through our front door only days earlier.

By six I'd showered and gone down. Marta was already in the kitchen. She jumped when she saw me.

"Mrs. Keene. You're up early. I'll make breakfast."

"I'll do it." I took out eggs and butter. "Damon likes them sunny-side up."

Marta just stared. Five years ago, right after the honeymoon, I could barely fry an egg. Damon had mentioned once, offhand, that he liked the yolk runny. I practiced for weeks. Burned my wrist on hot oil more than once, because I honestly believed that if I became the perfect wife, I could make the marriage perfect too.

The memory almost made me laugh now. What a ridiculous woman I'd been.

When Damon came down he had shadows under his eyes and the smug, rested look of a man whose plan was going well.

He sat at the island. "Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep." I poured his coffee and sat across from him. "I got my results back yesterday."

His fork slowed.

"Everything's normal. My doctor says my reproductive health is excellent." I held his eyes. "I can carry a child, Damon."

Silence.

"I want a baby. Ours."

For a second I expected him to fake a smile. Instead he leaned back in the chair.

"We already have Theo."

I stared at him. "Meaning?"

"Meaning another kid isn't a priority."

"My doctor confirmed—"

"Rosalind." His voice went flat and impatient. "Focus on your health." He stood, buttoned his jacket. "I've got a board meeting in the city."

And he left. I sat alone while the eggs went cold on the plate.

That night he didn't come home. Vivienne stayed upstairs with Theo. Marta worked in the kitchen. I sat in the living room pretending to watch TV when my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

Mrs. Ashford, this is Camille Beaumont.

I read on. She said Damon had probably explained everything by now. She hoped Theo's arrival wasn't upsetting me too much.

Then the real message:

Damon and I love each other. His family forced him into marrying you. Now that we have a son together, the kindest thing you can do is step aside and let us build the life we were always meant to have.

Second text:

Don't worry. You won't walk away with nothing. Damon will take care of you.

I read them a few times. Screenshotted both. Moved them into the vault.

My reply was four words: I understand perfectly.

She answered in seconds. You're really willing to make this easy? That's admirable, Mrs. Ashford. You truly are a good woman.

A good woman. I locked the phone.

Later I passed the nursery. Door open. Vivienne walking circles with Theo in her arms, murmuring, "My darling boy. Grandmother's little heir."

Marta stood nearby. "You're so blessed, Mrs. Ashford. The family finally has its son."

Vivienne smiled down at the baby. "One day, everything we built belongs to him."

Then she saw me. The smile dropped. She handed Theo to Marta and came into the hall.

"Rosalind, darling." The sudden sweetness made my skin crawl. "I know this is unconventional. But you have to be practical."

I said nothing.

"Damon is an only child. A fortune this size can't be left without a blood heir." She patted my hand. "If you'd been able to carry a pregnancy, things might have gone differently."

I looked right at her. "But since nature made other plans," she went on, "Theo will be your son. He'll respect you as his mother."

She walked off before I could answer.

That night I locked the bedroom door and called a number I still knew by heart.

Three rings.

"Grant Whitfield."

"Grant. It's Rosalind Keene."

A beat of silence. "Rosalind?"

"It's been a while."

"What happened?"

"I want a divorce."

His tone changed instantly. "You sure?"