Chapter 2He Traded Our Unborn Child For His Mistress

After the meal, as I mechanically laid out his suit for the next day, he grabbed me and forcefully pushed me against the wall.

"Kin," he murmured, his voice tight, "you've been so good lately. Too good. It's not like you..."

As his kisses trailed down my face, the unmistakable scent of Summer’s favorite gardenia perfume quickly saturated my senses.

The room’s temperature spiked, making the cloying fragrance even more intense.

A sharp, violent wave of nausea surged in my throat. I forced myself to endure it.

But then, in the heat of the moment, Preston called out Summer's name.

My mind went blank. I clenched the pillow so hard my knuckles turned bone-white.

Then, with a sudden, animalistic burst of strength, I shoved Preston away.

I stumbled to the bathroom and collapsed by the toilet, dry-heaving.

Preston followed me, his eyes narrowed.

Seeing my desperate retching, the desire in his eyes vanished, replaced by irritation. He leaned against the doorframe. "What’s wrong with you?"

I couldn't answer, the sound of my continuous heaving echoing off the marble.

He quickly lost patience. He merely threw a dismissive remark over his shoulder:

"Go to the doctor tomorrow and get checked out."

The roar of his car engine faded as he drove away, taking my sleep with it.

Curled up in the corner of the bed, I fought against the intense physical discomfort, but it was useless.

I got up.

While rummaging for an over-the-counter remedy, I found it in the back of the cabinet: a tacky, cheaply made pearl necklace whose metal settings had begun to fade.

The cold metal suddenly burned in my palm, forcing me almost to drop it.

I remembered the toughest year of Preston’s life.

We were twenty-two. His father had cut off all his funds to force him to start from the bottom. The millionaire playboy, accustomed to spending six figures a month, was living on a two-thousand-dollar salary, wearing clothes from a strip mall, and sharing a cramped dorm.

I’d felt sorry for him and secretly split my allowance with him.

Under the moonlight, his voice had choked up. "Kinsley, I’m so lucky to have you."

To buy me a birthday gift, he worked himself to exhaustion, taking on extra shifts until he was dizzy.

When he finally presented the pearl necklace, his face was flushed. "The quality is terrible compared to what you have in your closet, Kin. If you don't like it, you can just tell me..."

I didn’t refuse.

I took off my latest designer necklace and wore the cheap pearls for a year. For a long time, that necklace had served as Preston’s symbolic ‘get out of jail free’ card.

Snapping out of the memory, I walked to the balcony. I wound up and threw the necklace with all my might.

It disappeared into the flowerbed below, vanishing without a trace.

Two months later.

I had an unexpected visitor.

Summer.

She was wearing the latest couture suit and a heavy, expensive watch. Even her diamond earrings were a pair Preston had spent a fortune on at a recent auction.

I knew she had accepted his twisted, possessive love.

And like so many women before her, she had come to tell me to leave my marriage.

"He doesn't love you anymore. There’s no point in clinging to this title," she announced. "And I need that 'Mrs. Thorne' title to clear my name from being a home-wrecker."

But I needed that title too.

I only had my brother left. I could concede anything else, but not this. Not the protection of the Thorne name.

Seeing my lack of response, a flicker of genuine hatred crossed her eyes. She slammed her hand on the table and stood up.

"Kinsley, why couldn't you control Preston?" she shrieked. "Why did you let him ruin me and my boyfriend?"

"My life is a mess because of your incompetence! You’re the reason I’m like this!"

"If I can’t be happy, you and Preston—the two people responsible for this—won't be happy either!"

She lunged at me. Her full weight hit me, and my waist slammed into the metallic corner of the breakfast table. The agonizing pain stole my breath.

I tried to push her away.

But before I could exert any pressure, she suddenly collapsed onto the floor, sweeping the dishes and cutlery onto the tile with a crash.

I turned back just as Summer cried out, clutching her abdomen. The fabric beneath her quickly turned a horrific crimson.

Was she... pregnant?

The housekeeper’s sharp scream filled the air, followed by Preston’s frantic shout from the foyer.

The next second, a stinging, savage blow landed across my face. My lips immediately tasted of blood.

"Kinsley!"

Preston’s voice was a roar. "I thought you had learned your lesson these past months, but you're still doing this? You're still incorrigible!"

An unspeakable bitterness, sharp and metallic, rushed up my throat.

I choked out a weak defense. "I didn't push her..."

Preston didn't even pause to hear me.

He scooped Summer into his arms, his movements swift and protective, and rushed out the door. The man who could stay impassive during billion-dollar negotiations was now trembling slightly as he ran.

A week later, Jared called.

"Kin, could you just ask Preston why he suddenly unlinked the repayment account? If it’s too much trouble, forget it..."