Chapter 5
675words
When I arrived, Alexander was already waiting.
He stood at the base of the stone steps leading to the sanctuary, impeccable in a tailored black suit, his posture rigid and commanding.
After months apart, I noticed he'd lost weight, with new lines of exhaustion etched between his brows.
When he spotted me, he faltered, his eyes clouding with complex emotions.
"You came," he said, his voice rougher than I remembered.
I brushed past him without acknowledgment, ascending the first step.
He fell into step beside me.
"Did my mother explain the situation?" he asked.
"Yes."
"What will it take?" he asked bluntly. "Money? Something else? Name your price."
I halted mid-step and turned to face him.
"Alexander, do you genuinely believe everything in this world has a price tag?"
His brow furrowed. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what exactly did you mean?" I asked with quiet venom. "Do you think my dead child can be bought off?"
His expression hardened. "Vivian, be reasonable. What happened then was unfortunate, but it was an accident."
"An accident?" I laughed bitterly. "You abandoned me at home to celebrate Claire's birthday. I called you a dozen times while I writhed on the bathroom floor bleeding. A neighbor finally called the ambulance. By the time I reached the hospital, our baby was gone. And you call that an accident?"
It was the first time I'd spoken aloud about that night three years ago.
Before, I'd been too afraid to mention it, too terrified to confront him.
I couldn't bear to see even a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
But now? I felt nothing but ice in my veins.
Alexander's lips parted, then closed again without a sound.
His silence told me everything.
I turned and continued climbing the steps.
"I'm not here for your apology or your bargaining. I came to tell my child that I'm leaving—going somewhere far away to begin again. To ask them to stop waiting for me, to release their resentment."
I entered the sanctuary, knelt on the worn cushion, clasped my hands, and closed my eyes.
I wasn't praying to any deity.
I was speaking only to the child I'd lost:
"Little one, I'm so sorry. In your next life, find a mother who can protect you. Come into this world safely, okay?"
Behind me, Alexander remained silent throughout.
As I rose to my feet, he finally spoke. "Where are you going?"
"That's no longer your concern," I replied coldly.
He lunged forward, fingers clamping around my wrist with surprising force. I wrenched free, raised my chin, and met his gaze unflinchingly.
"Alexander, spare me your wounded pride. Do you honestly think I still care? I came today to tell you one thing."
"What?" he demanded.
"Your precious Claire—the child she carries won't survive. I carried your child too, on the day we divorced. It didn't make it either."
Having delivered my message, I turned and walked away without a backward glance.
Behind me, his voice rose in a strangled fury: "Vivian, you've lost your mind!"
Insane?
Perhaps.
Driven there by him.
Outside the cathedral, the hillside breeze cooled my flushed skin.
Ethan's car waited at the bottom of the hill.
I slid into the passenger seat as he offered me a steaming cup of cocoa.
"All settled?"
"Mmm." I accepted the cup, letting its warmth seep from my palms into my frozen core.
"Did he believe you?"
"It doesn't matter if he believes me," I murmured, watching the cathedral shrink in the side mirror. "What matters is that I've planted a seed of doubt. That seed will take root, sprout, and eventually grow into something powerful enough to destroy everything he believes in."
Alexander had always been pathologically suspicious, catastrophically arrogant.
He might dismiss my words outwardly, but inwardly, doubt would already be festering.
He would investigate. He would probe.
And Claire Lawrence—that seemingly perfect, gentle creature—was she truly as flawless as he believed?
