Beckett soon followed the doctor into the office to pick up the prenatal report. Delaney, however, made an excuse about needing to use the restroom—and then just stood there.

Once they were both inside, she finally drawled lazily, “You can come out now. You've been standing there watching long enough. Haven’t had your fill yet?”

I stepped out without a word, my expression blank.

Seeing that I stayed silent, Delaney grew impatient. Her gaze sharpened with mockery.

“What, no shame left at all? You knew Beckett never loved you, yet you still insist on holding on to the title of Mrs. Shaw?”

I let out a cold laugh. “And you don’t find it shameful to be the other woman, fully aware he’s married?”

Delaney’s lips curled into a smile. “I knew Beckett long before you did. If I hadn’t gone abroad, you’d never have had the chance to marry him.”

She lightly patted her belly, then added smugly, “But I’m back now—and I’m pregnant with his child. So I’d say it’s time for you to step aside.”

From the moment I married Beckett, I knew he had a woman he considered his one true love. But I never thought she’d hold such an unshakable place in his heart.

The pain that shot through my chest nearly brought me to my knees. My grip tightened instinctively on the report in my hand.

And that’s when Delaney saw and snatched it from me.

She scanned the conclusion and burst into wild, gleeful laughter.

“Cancer, huh?” she said. “So, what do you think? Will you live long enough to give birth to that bastard baby, or are you both going to die together?”

Her laughter rang in my ears like sirens and something in me snapped. I stepped forward and slapped her, hard.

She staggered back dramatically, then fell to the ground with a wail.

“Evelyn, I didn’t mean to keep this from you! But I’m pregnant! How could you hit me like that?”

Huge, dramatic tears rolled down her cheeks. And before I could even process her performance, I felt a violent shove from behind. I lost my balance and my belly slammed into the cold, hard floor.

Beckett grabbed my arm and yanked me up. I was still dazed, still trying to process the shock, when he yelled in my face.

“Are you out of your mind?! How could you push Delaney? She’s pregnant!”

I stared at him, stunned. Before I could speak, Delaney cried out, “Beckett, please don’t fight with Evelyn because of me. I shouldn’t have asked you to come to the appointment with me. This is my fault. As long as the baby’s okay, she can slap me.”

She looked like a tragic heroine—eyes glassy, lower lip trembling.

Beckett’s face twisted with anger. His voice was low and sharp when he turned to me.

“You’ve crossed the line, Evelyn,” he said coldly. “Apologize to Delaney.”

The sound of it shocked even me. I laughed. Bitterly. 

“You want me to apologize?” I said, my voice hoarse. “Beckett, do you know what this is?”

I shoved the cancer report into his chest, my hands shaking. My throat tightened with emotion.

He didn’t even look at it.

He tore the paper in half and glared at me like I was the problem.

“I don’t care what that says! All I know is you’ve gone too far. God, you’re pregnant, Evelyn! How could you be cruel to other woman?”

Tears finally slipped down my cheeks, hot and silent. My whole body trembled—not from pain, but from sheer fury.

Beckett saw me crying and for a moment, his expression softened. His tone shifted to something gentler.

“Alright… can you just apologize? I know I haven’t been giving you attention these past few months. But I promise I’ll make it up to you once the baby’s born.”

Then, without a trace of shame, he pushed me toward Delaney.

She looked back at me, eyes glinting with smug triumph.

I looked hard at Beckett, wondering how the man who once swore he loved me could change so drastically the moment Delaney came back. Had he forgotten every promise he made the day we stood at the altar?

I drew in a long, steadying breath.

“No,” I said quietly. “I won’t apologize. And Beckett… you’ve truly disappointed me.”

Then I turned and walked away.

As I walked away, Beckett’s face darkened. For a brief moment, panic flashed through his eyes. He started to take a step toward me—but then Delaney clutched her stomach and groaned.

“Beckett, it hurts,” she gasped, then forced out a teary plea. “But Evelyn’s more important. Go after her.”

Beckett hesitated only a second before shaking his head. “No. Don’t worry about her. Right now, your condition is what matters most.”

He glanced down the hallway where I’d disappeared and I heard him mutter, “Evelyn’s just throwing a tantrum. She’s eight months pregnant, she’ll be terrified if I divorce her. I’ll talk to her later.”

Then he scooped Delaney up and carried her into the hospital room.

When I got home, I stood outside for a long moment, staring at the house that was supposed to be ours. Since Delaney returned to the country, Beckett had barely been home. I could no longer feel the warmth this house once held.

I walked to the wall, took down our wedding photo and tossed it straight into the trash.

I didn’t want to leave a single trace of myself here—not one reminder of what used to be.

I packed up all our couple items and stuffed them into a trash bag. I was heading down the stairs with it when the front door suddenly swung open—Beckett walked in, carrying Delaney in his arms.

When he saw me standing silently by the door, a flicker of guilt flashed across his face.

“She’s not feeling well after what you did,” he said, like that explained everything.

“Not feeling well, huh?” I scoffed. “Then why isn’t she in a hospital? Why the hell would you bring her here? Do you think our home is some kind of recovery center for mistresses?”

“Watch your words, Evelyn,” he snapped. “I’m trying to fix things here. Whether you like it or not, Delaney is staying in this house.”

Delaney chimed in, her hand moving to gently rub her belly. “It’s true, Evelyn. There’s nothing going on between Beckett and me. I’m only staying for the baby.”

She said it just to provoke me.

I could feel the anger rising in my chest, bubbling and hot. I looked at Beckett and said, firm and loud, “This is our house, Beckett. I don’t want her living here.”

Beckett paused. His face twisted like he was conflicted. But then Delaney grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly.

Beckett’s heart melted instantly. When he turned back to me, his voice was full of irritation. “That’s enough! You’re pregnant too—how can you have zero empathy?”

“You pushed Delaney. I’m just trying to take care of her. If you don’t want her here, then maybe you should leave.”

His words hit like a slap.

I stared at him, the blood draining from my face. My whole body trembled.

And then I said, as clearly as I could, “As you wish.”

Tonight would be my last night in this house. After this, I’d be gone—and Beckett Shaw would be a closed chapter in my life.

With my decision made, I grabbed the trash bag in my hand and marched out the door.

Delaney’s voice followed behind me, laced with mock pity.

“Don’t fight because of me, Beckett. Look, she’s so angry she even took down your wedding photo.”

Beckett’s voice rumbled low with frustration. “She’s just being dramatic. Once she realizes I’m not playing her game, she’ll come crawling back.”

A tear slid down my cheek. I walked into the cold night and threw the trash away along with very last shred of love I had left for him.

The second I opened the door, I heard a noise coming from the nursery—and my anger flare up. Beckett had renovated that room the moment he found out I was pregnant. He’d filled it with only the best. Every piece of furniture, every stuffed animal, every blanket—he picked them all out himself. For our baby.

And now he wanted to give that to Delaney?

Fury surged through me. I stormed down the hallway and swung the door open—only to find Delaney lying in the crib.

I yanked her up without thinking, rage burning in my chest. But before I could get a word out, Beckett grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from her.

“What is wrong with you? You act like a lunatic the second you walk in.” he snapped. But when he saw the tears in my eyes, he hesitated—his grip loosening just a little.

“Are you really giving her this room?” I asked, my voice raw and broken.

Beckett frowned. “Delaney said she likes it. It’s not a big deal if she stays here for a while.”

“Do you remember…”

“Enough, Evelyn!” he cut me off, irritated. “Everything you’ve done these past few days has been disappointing. If you keep acting like this, I’ll have to reconsider whether this marriage should even continue.” He paused, eyes cold. “You don’t want the baby inside you to be born without a father, do you?”

He was threatening me—with divorce.

Looking at his face, the side he always turned away when he was done with an argument, I felt the memories unravel. The promises, the whispered sweet nothings, all turning to ash in a matter of months.

He once said this room would always belong to our baby. He said he would treasure both of us for the rest of his life.

And yet here we were.

I didn’t say anything else. I turned around and walked out, numb. My hand instinctively cradled my belly, feeling the faint flutter of life inside me.

“Don’t worry, baby. We don’t need that room. I’ll make you a better one.”

Behind me, Beckett stood frozen, watching me walk away. That same flicker of guilt from the hospital flashed across his face again—sharp and quick, then buried.

But as Delaney called out to him from the nursery, he turned and walked back to her.

Later, when I was back in the master bedroom, my phone buzzed. I got a string of voice messages from Delaney.

I opened them one by one and hearing Beckett’s doting tone in the recordings, I realized all their past affection was just practice for Beckett.

He was practicing on me and our baby, all for the sake of Delaney’s child.

Every nourishing soup I drank, every gift I received for the baby, every parenting tip Beckett shared with me—it was all just practice for Delaney’s baby.

Even the nursery itself was prepared by Beckett for the child in Delaney’s womb.

I and the baby were just tools for Beckett’s rehearsal. He didn’t want Delaney to suffer through his learning curve, so I became the sacrifice.

I listened to the messages over and over, the pain swelling inside me until I laughed. Not because it was funny—because it hurt so much it pushed me over the edge. Everything I had been so proud of since the moment I got pregnant had been nothing but a lie.

Beckett’s tenderness toward my child? It didn’t even come close to what he showed Delaney and hers.

I clenched my phone so tightly my hand shook. It hurt to breathe. All I could do was whisper over and over to myself that it was okay.

It was okay. Because soon, we’d be free of him.

Just me and the baby. And we’d be just fine.

The baby kicked, like he could hear me. Like he understood.

I wrapped my arms around my belly and held it close.

I stayed that way for a long time, until I could finally breathe again.