Chapter 3
Julian's eyes turned red.
For one terrible second, hope rose inside me.
Then Vanessa made a quiet sound.
Not quite a sob.
Julian immediately turned toward her.
“Hey.”
He placed his hand over hers.
“It's okay.”
I watched him comfort her.
And there it was.
My answer.
Whatever Julian still felt for me, he had already chosen where his loyalty lived.
I looked down at my hands.
For the past week, they'd felt strangely warm. Coffee smelled wrong. I'd thrown away a bottle of perfume because it suddenly made me nauseated.
My period was six days late.
I'd blamed stress.
That morning I'd stood in our bathroom with a pregnancy test in my hand.
Then Julian's message had arrived.
My father wants us at the estate at two. It's important.
I'd put the test back beneath the sink.
Now my fingers drifted almost unconsciously toward my abdomen.
Nobody noticed.
Or if they did, they thought I was nervous.
Charles uncapped a pen.
“If you sign today, the funds will be transferred immediately.”
I looked once more at Julian.
He did not ask me to stay.
So I picked up the pen.
My signature looked surprisingly steady.
Evelyn Carter Whitmore.
I stared at the last name for half a second.
Then I signed the second page.
And the third.
When I reached the final signature line, Julian spoke.
“Evelyn.”
I stopped.
He looked devastated.
But devastation was not the same thing as courage.
“I am sorry,” he whispered.
I nodded once.
“So am I.”
Then I signed.
Charles exhaled.
Margaret touched Vanessa's shoulder.
Vanessa began crying again, and Julian leaned toward her.
I closed the folder.
“Where do you want the keys?”
Julian looked confused.
“What?”
“The apartment.”
“You don't have to leave tonight.”
That almost made me smile.
He had just watched his father purchase my disappearance, yet some part of him still expected me to sleep down the hall until convenient arrangements could be made.
“No,” I said. “I do.”
I stood.
Julian followed me.
“Evelyn, please.”
Charles frowned.
“Julian.”
But Julian ignored him and followed me into the hallway.
He caught up near the curved staircase.
“Don't leave like this.”
I looked at him.
“How would you prefer I leave?”
“I don't know.”
“Neither do I.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“Triplets don't happen because you accidentally answer an email after midnight.”