The twelfth year of being with Zane Swanson, I scrolled past a mutual friend's repost. A marriage certificate. His and some scholarship girl's.

The caption read: "Seven hard years. Legal at last."

For a moment I just stared, certain it had to be some kind of prank.

After all, everyone in our circle knew Zane loved me more than his own life.

Years ago, protecting me, he'd taken three broken ribs and nearly died at a dinner table.

I got in the car right away to go ask him myself.

Instead, I overheard him talking with a friend.

"You married Cara Pruitt. What are you going to do when Crystal Donaldson finds out?"

Zane flicked the ash off his cigarette without a care in the world.

"With Crystal's busted body? After she aborted my kid she never got pregnant again, not once in all these years. A hen that can't lay eggs. Who'd want her once she's away from me?"

"Cara's different. The girl's stuck with me all these years. I owe her a proper title."

A sharp cramp twisted through my lower belly. Fighting down the nausea of morning sickness, I dialed my father, the richest man in the city.

"Dad, I misjudged him. I regret everything. Come take me home."

——

By the time I'd finished the paperwork and came home, Cara was wrapped in my pajamas, sitting on our bed painting her nails.

The second she saw me, she pointed at the underthings scattered all over the floor from their heat-of-the-moment tangle.

A shy flush still colored her pretty cheeks.

"Take these and wash them for me."

The enormous diamond ring on her finger flashed in my eyes with every move she made.

Yesterday morning, when I'd found this ring in Zane's pocket.

I'd actually thought our twelve years were finally bearing fruit, that he meant to propose.

I'd even pulled it out, giddy, and slipped it on to try.

Even when it didn't fit, I never suspected a thing.

I'd been planning to tuck the ultrasound report into his hand as my answer, the moment Zane produced the ring and gave it to me.

"These are all real silk. They can't go in the washer."

"You have to scrub them carefully by hand. They're expensive, understand?"

Cara lifted her chin and ordered me around, full of haughty pride.

Like a beautiful little canary, pampered to perfection.

Nothing at all like the pitiful student I'd seen seven years ago, bare-faced in a worn-out T-shirt, working part-time at a barbecue stand to pay for school.

Forced to put up with the harassment of drunk customers.

She was the first student I'd offered to fund, back when Zane's startup was just starting to find its footing and I was at his side through it.

Probably because those years I'd spent living in a basement, running myself ragged to land projects for him, drinking until my stomach bled, bowing and scraping and forcing smiles just to scrape by, had been so brutal.

I couldn't stand to see a girl like her suffer the same way for survival.

So in the company's name, I'd personally wired her the funding every year.

When I didn't move, Cara pulled fifty dollars from her wallet and tossed it, along with the dirty clothes, into my arms.

"Here. A tip for you!"

I had no intention of reaching out to take it.

The clothes and the cash scattered across the floor.

Cara's eyes went red on the spot.

That was the moment Zane walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Years ago, a major client had taken a liking to my looks.

He'd insisted I go to a hotel with him to "have some fun" before he'd sign the contract.

It had enraged Zane so much he flipped the table right there.

The scar from the ribs that man's lackeys had broken, protecting me, was still that vivid.

Now Cara, all soft skin and warm sweetness, threw herself against him and covered it clean from view.

"Zane, baby, the housekeeper's giving me such mean looks."

Hearing Cara order me around like a maid, Zane froze for a beat, a flicker of unease crossing his face.

But the instant he saw Cara's fragile, wounded little face, he instinctively tucked her against his side.

His face went cold on the spot.

"She's a sweet, innocent girl. Don't go scaring her."

It felt like someone had shoved an old, filthy rag down my throat.

The nausea rose until I couldn't stop my face from going gray.

Zane frowned, like he wanted to smooth something over.

He grabbed a necklace from the cabinet and tossed it down in front of me.

"Here, this is for you. Just clear out for a few days, and once things settle down—"

I could barely hear what he was saying.

The two words stamped on the necklace box, "Promotional Gift," stabbed at my eyes until they ached, until my voice cracked.

"I'll leave."

I turned and walked into the other room to dig out my papers.

Cara followed at my side, the necklace box in her hands, prettily pressing it into my arms again and again.

"Don't feel bad about taking it. This necklace is expensive, sure, but my family has plenty of money."

"And I don't even like it, so giving it to a servant is no big deal."

"It's my wedding gift, after all. I hope you'll find a man someday who loves you as much as mine loves me."

She smiled, bright and guileless, the very picture of a kind and generous lady of the house.

All I felt was the irony of it. I lifted my head and looked toward the doorway.

At the man who used to light up just looking into my eyes, who once said he loved me to the bone.

Zane's brow only knit tighter.

Even his expression had soured.

He motioned for Cara to step out first.

Once the door closed.

Zane came over, his hand clamping down hard around my wrist.

He sighed, his tone weary, like he was coaxing a child who didn't know any better.

"Crystal, I know this hurts you."

"But a man worth what I'm worth—what's wrong with keeping a few women around?"

His voice dropped low, threaded with that coaxing lilt.

"Besides, Cara's a simple girl. It took me ages to win her over. She's stood by me for seven years. A man has to take responsibility."

"You've always been so understanding, so considerate. You'll see where I'm coming from, won't you?"

His voice wasn't loud, yet every word landed like a hammer, pounding until my chest bled.

I lowered my head and pulled my hand free of his.

I didn't want to say a single word to him.

I grabbed my suitcase and turned to leave.

My silence set Zane off.

His face twisted, and he kicked my suitcase.

"Crystal Donaldson, don't you dare throw my generosity back in my face!"

The case flew across the room, slammed into the wall, and split open.

He stared down at me, his eyes cold and cutting.

"I kept you. I never cut off your cards, let you live in a mansion, drive a luxury car—and that's still not enough?"

"If you want to blame someone, blame your own useless womb!"

His gaze swept over my stomach like it was a patch of dead, worthless ground.

"You expect me to stay with you and die without an heir?"

Every word drove straight into me, every one cut to the bone.

I froze where I stood, the blood in my veins turning to ice.

My first child with him had come by accident, back when Zane was at his poorest.

Back then he couldn't even afford to take on a single project. We were so broke the two of us split one boxed meal.

Next month's rent depended on my odd shifts at the convenience store.

We didn't even have the money for a proper clinic procedure.

All I could do was buy the cheapest pills and force it through at home.

It was long, and it was brutal.

The whole night, I curled up on the bed, the pain dragging me in and out of consciousness, blood soaking the sheets until I nearly passed out.

Zane knelt by the bed, his eyes red, his hands shaking as he fed me sips of warm sugar water, his voice choking with sobs.

"Crystal, I'm so sorry."

"I swear, I'll spend my whole life making it up to you."

"I'll work myself to death before I ever let you suffer like this again."

The vow still burned in my ears.

The man standing before me was a stranger now.

All at once, I felt bone-tired.

I remembered how I'd cried and begged my father, who'd been dead set against this marriage, to give me one chance to prove Zane Swanson was worth it.

To prove he wasn't some good-for-nothing pauper, that he'd never love me and leave me the way my father warned he would.

In the end, the only thing I proved was my own stupidity.

Maybe a small, stubborn part of me still couldn't let it go.

So I made myself ask. "She gave you seven years, so you owe her. And what about the twelve years I gave you, fighting for everything you have?"

Zane crossed his arms and let out a contemptuous snort.

"That was your choice. Nobody forced you."

I couldn't hold it back anymore. I bolted into the bathroom and retched until there was nothing left.

Zane panicked and reached for me on instinct.

His broad palm spread across my back, pulling me into his chest.

"Is it your stomach acting up again?"

Back when I'd helped him chase deals to build his company, I'd downed bottle after bottle of liquor and wrecked my stomach for good.

For years afterward, the sudden cramps would twist through me until death seemed kinder than living.

The smell of antiseptic in the hospital, and the sight of Zane's back as he rushed to take a number in line.

In that hazy moment, it all blurred together with a memory from twelve years ago.

Back then he didn't even own a car. He'd carried me on his back, running three blocks in the dead of night.

My hand drifted to the swell of my belly without thinking.

If the father of this little one knew he existed...

But in the next second, someone shoved me hard from behind.

My whole body slammed into the cold, hard wall, and the pain shot through me as if every bone had shattered.

Cara stood in front of me, tears welling, fury and grievance pouring out of her voice.

"You knew we were married, so why are you still throwing yourself at my husband?"

The words dropped, and in an instant every pair of eyes in the room swung toward me.

The whispers came at me thick and fast, hammering from all sides.

"Look at her, all sweet and innocent, and she knows she's the other woman. Shameless!"

"They've already signed the papers and she's still clinging on. She'd better watch out, or karma will leave her babies bald as eggs!"

The pain left me weak all over, and my back slid down the icy wall.

People came and went around me, but not one of them reached out to help.

Every last one of them saw me as the homewrecker tearing apart someone else's marriage.

A flicker of triumph crossed Cara's eyes, and she raised her hand to strike my face.

Forcing down the pain ripping through me, I caught her wrist.

My eyes had gone cold as ice.

"Whether I'm the other woman, you know perfectly well in your heart!"

Cara flinched on instinct, a trace of unease passing over her face.

Then, in the very next breath, the tears poured down. She clutched her belly and cringed back, her face a mask of terror.

The picture-perfect victim, beaten down by my cruelty.

"Let me go, don't hurt my baby, my stomach hurts so much..."

Zane had just finished getting his number in line, and he came tearing over almost at a sprint.

One look at the scene before him, and without a single word, he drew his arm back wide.

A sharp, ringing slap cracked across my face.

He hit me hard. My head snapped sideways, half my cheek instantly swelling, raw and stinging, my ear ringing in a long, dull buzz.

My whole body staggered and crumpled to the freezing floor.

I lifted my eyes to Zane, unable to believe it.

He stared at the angry red mark blazing on my face, his fingertips trembling faintly, something like panic flashing through his eyes for a heartbeat.

But only for a heartbeat. Then he wrapped himself tight around the tear-streaked Cara, shielding her like some precious, fragile jewel.

He turned back to me, grinding the words out through clenched teeth.

"Crystal Donaldson, when did you turn this vicious?"