Chapter 2Whose Child Is She Carrying?

"Do whatever you want." I looked at her, my voice completely dead.

Kate's face turned a mottled shade of purple. She probably expected me to compromise, to grab her arm and beg her to stay like I used to. But she calculated wrong this time.

She ground her teeth, wrapped her arm securely around Joshua's waist, and marched toward the front door.

"You're going to regret this, Nolan."

The heavy oak door slammed shut, the sheer force of it rattling the walls.

The living room fell back into a suffocating, dead silence. I collapsed onto the sofa, my mind instantly drifting back to her pregnancy.

That was my child growing inside her, yet she chose to have another man by her side during the ultrasounds.

A wave of bitter acid burned my throat.

My phone screen lit up on the table. It was a text message.

From Joshua.

[Nolan, Kate insisted on booking me a suite at the Four Seasons. She said she absolutely refuses to let me suffer.]

Attached was a photo taken from behind, showing Kate standing at a marble concierge desk, handing over her platinum credit card.

I saved the screenshot to my cloud drive and immediately blocked his number.

The next morning, just as I finished a tasteless cup of black coffee, the doorbell rang.

It was Kate's executive assistant, Rachel.

"Nolan, Ms. Whitmore sent me to pick up a few things."

Rachel kept her eyes glued to the floor, actively avoiding my gaze.

Behind her stood two burly corporate bodyguards. They walked straight past me and headed directly for the climate-controlled storage room.

A moment later, they started carrying out the premium reserve tonics and imported truffles my parents had left me before they passed away.

I stepped firmly into the hallway, blocking their path.

"Who gave you permission to touch those?"

Rachel wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

"Nolan, Ms. Whitmore said Joshua's body is incredibly fragile and he needs high-end nourishment."

"She mentioned that these items were just gathering dust in here anyway."

I let out a harsh, barking laugh. She wanted to take my deceased parents' legacy to feed her pathetic little sidepiece?

"Put them down. Tell her to come get them herself if she wants them so badly."

The words had barely left my mouth when Kate's icy voice echoed from the open doorway.

"Excuse me? Am I no longer allowed to make decisions about the inventory in my own home?"

She was wearing the exact same designer suit from yesterday. She clearly hadn't come home last night.

Kate strode into the foyer, waving her hand to signal the bodyguards to continue carrying the boxes.

"Nolan, you can't possibly consume all of this by yourself."

"Joshua is recovering, and his body needs these exact nutrients."

She walked right up to me, holding out an open palm.

"Give me the keys to your loft studio in the South End."

My head snapped up. I stared at her in utter disbelief.

That studio was my sanctuary.

It was my private creative base where I worked under my secret illustration pseudonym, "Ronin".

Every inch of that space held my blood, sweat, and artistic soul.

"Why the hell do you need the keys to my studio?"

Kate spoke as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Joshua says the recycled air in the hotel suite is making him claustrophobic. It's bad for his recovery."

"Your studio has great natural light and a private courtyard. I'm lending it to him for a while."

She paused, a mocking smirk playing on her lips.

"It's not like you're doing anything important there anyway."

"Those messy little sketches of yours don't bring in a dime. We might as well put the real estate to some practical use."

I stared at her, my blood boiling.

"That is my workspace. It's not a halfway house for your stray trash."

Kate's eyes darkened instantly.

"Watch your mouth, Nolan. Since when did Joshua become trash?"

Without warning, she lunged forward and grabbed the canvas tote bag resting on the entryway console.

"Give that back!" I lunged to grab it out of her hands.

Using her height advantage in heels, she held the bag high out of my reach with one hand.

With her other hand, she ruthlessly tipped it upside down, dumping the contents all over the hardwood floor.

Keys, my phone, and my hand-drawn conceptual drafts scattered everywhere.

My heart skipped a beat. I immediately dropped to my knees to rescue the delicate drafting paper.

But Kate was faster. She stepped forward, the sharp stiletto heel of her shoe planting directly in the center of my artwork.

She bent down and snatched the keyring holding the studio keys.

"You're an unemployed bum who paints to kill time, and you actually think you're some kind of tortured artist?"

She tossed the keys in the air and caught them, her lips curling into a cruel, satisfied smile.

"I'm taking these."

"You better stay out of trouble for the next few days. If you go to the studio and harass Joshua, I'll make you regret it."

I stared at the crumpled, dirt-stained paper trapped under her heel.

It was a commercial piece I had spent three agonizing months perfecting.

My chest physically ached, my heart contracting in sharp, jagged spasms.

"Kate, if Nolan really doesn't want me there, we can just forget it."

"I really don't want to be the wedge that drives your marriage apart."

Joshua's fragile, breathy voice floated in from the front porch.