Dulcie’s POV

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I wrapped my arms around him, gently pressing his head to my shoulder.

“I know what happened to Elvira,” I whispered, stroking his hair. “She’s gone now, Geoffrey. Don’t be too sad. You still have people who care about you.”

He was vulnerable and broken—and exactly where I wanted him. Pulled into my warmth, he let his guard fall and spilled everything.

When Alira got together with him, I tried to bury my feelings. But it didn’t take long for desire to get the better of me. I wanted him. I always had.

So, I flirted with him in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

And last night, finally, I got what I wanted.

Over the next few days, we grew closer. I knew Geoffrey was starting to feel something for me, and I made sure to document every moment of our budding romance.

Alira’s POV

I was at home packing and getting ready to leave for the lab.

I had always known about my condition. With my father’s support, I had dedicated myself to finding a cure.

In the cold lab, I picked up a scalpel, ready to dissect another white mouse for samples.

My phone buzzed nonstop. Messages from Dulcie.

She sent photos—intimate hand-holding, kisses. I teased her, asking when she’d started dating someone.

But then, I saw Geoffrey’s face in one of the pictures.

The scalpel in my hand trembled. My grip loosened, and the blade plunged straight into my thigh. In an instant, blood gushed out, pain wracked my body, and cold sweat soaked my back.

I had always known my best friend liked my guy, but I never imagined she would betray me like this—now, of all times.

I was still reeling when Geoffrey called.

“Hon, everything’s settled with Sonny. I’m coming to get you now.”

Five minutes later, he arrived. The moment he saw my ivory gown stained with blood, he was beside himself with worry.

“Why did you come to the lab again? And why are you hurt? You were just getting better…”

He reached into his bag for bandages and carefully wrapped my wound.

“Hon, I promise—I’ll find a cure for your illness,” he said, his eyes glistening.

When he pulled me into his arms, I gently pushed him away. “Let’s go.”

The whole ride, my mind kept replaying Dulcie’s messages. I couldn’t understand why my best friend would stab me in the back.

I glanced over at Geoffrey.

My eyes widened.

Though he’d tried to cover it with foundation, I could still see faint love marks on his neck.

My body shook. My foot hit something on the car floor. I looked down—there it was: a piece of women’s lingerie, clearly not mine.

My disbelief turned to rage. I looked at Geoffrey, but he was lost in his own thoughts as the cemetery drew closer.

I turned away quickly, biting back tears.

At the burial site, the staff guided us to a small grave. Next to it stood another one—larger, ornate, and covered in fresh yellow roses. The headstone read: [Elvira Carpenter].

It was spotless.

In comparison, our baby’s resting place looked pitifully bare.

“This is what you prepared?” I asked coldly.

“The cemetery’s short on space, hon,” Geoffrey said meekly.

I said nothing. I just quietly placed a handmade doll’s outfit next to the small grave. Every stitch, every needle prick on my hands, was made with love.

I cradled my sore fingers and wept until I couldn’t breathe. Geoffrey’s eyes turned red, too.

But then, his phone rang. Though he answered it quickly, I still caught the caller’s name: [Dulcie].

When he hung up, he told me he had to work overtime. Just like that, he hurried to instruct Cade to drive me home.

I waved the assistant off. Before leaving, Geoffrey patted my head gently. And then, his car sped away.

I stayed at my baby’s grave for a long time, crying. I couldn’t bring myself to burn the doll clothes. In the end, I brought them back home.

Now that everything with the child was settled, all that was left was the experiment. Once that was done, I could finally leave in peace.

As I prepared to return to the lab, something in the backyard caught my eye. The roses had finally bloomed—bold, brilliant, almost defiant.

It was Geoffrey’s private garden for Elvira. He had planted every flower and tree by hand. Every time I tried to approach it, he would yell at me to stay away.

I thought he just loved flowers.

But not once—not on our anniversary, not even on my birthday—had he ever given me a single flower.

On his birthday, I’d spent hours picking out the perfect bouquet. But he threw it straight into the trash.

“Are you trying to kill me?! I’m allergic to pollen!” he sneezed and snapped.

Yet he spent three months building a flower garden for Elvira.

And now that garden was in full bloom.

I let out a cold, bitter laugh and turned to leave.

Just then, a car came speeding in through the back gate, crashing straight into the garden. The whole place was destroyed in seconds.

The car stopped just inches from me. I was so scared, I broke into sobs.

Geoffrey jumped out of the passenger seat and rushed to hold me. “I’m so sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Alira loves racing, remember? She wouldn’t be scared by this,” Dulcie said smugly as she stepped out of the driver’s seat.

“Geoffrey, racing is so fun. Take me with you next time, okay?” she giggled, her voice sweet.

She grabbed his arm, and he looked down at her with indulgent eyes.

“This wasn’t bad, huh?” he said. “Next time I’ll take you to a real race.”

“Really? Yay!” she replied excitedly, snuggling into his chest.

I glared at them both.

“What are you doing here?”

Dulcie clung tighter to his arm.

“I came to share some good news,” she said, pulling something from her bag and handing it to Geoffrey with a sweet, expectant smile.

It was… a pregnancy test.

“You’re pregnant?!”

Alira’s POV

Dulcie looked shy and demure while Geoffrey’s face lit up with joy. He immediately called Rhonda, his mom, to share the news.

The Fontaines had always placed enormous importance on continuing the family line. Ever since Rhonda learned she might never have grandchildren, she’d been quietly drowning in disappointment. She never liked me, not really—and she certainly never approved of my career.

Now, with Dulcie pregnant, Rhonda was practically skipping into our home.

Dulcie caught my stunned expression and blinked at me innocently.

“Alira, you’re not mad, are you? You know how much this family values heirs. Geoffrey’s just doing what’s best.”

Then she pulled something else from her purse: the medical report Geoffrey had left in the car.

It was mine.

The words [permanently infertile] screamed across the page, stabbing straight into my pride.

Geoffrey probably noticed the color drain from my face. He immediately tried to soothe me.

“Hon, I didn’t show you this because… I didn’t want to hurt you. Losing the baby was already so painful. But now that Dulcie’s pregnant… It’s a blessing. Maybe it’ll bring some happiness back into our lives.”

He reached for my hand.

“Don’t worry,” he added quickly, “Dulcie promised she wouldn’t interfere in our life after the baby’s born.”

Moments later, Rhonda rushed in, beaming with delight. She took Dulcie’s hands, pulling her into a warm embrace.

The moment she saw the report, her smile withered into a thin, bitter line.

She let out a long sigh.

“If you can’t give us a child,” she said coldly, “then my son needs to take responsibility for Dulcie and this pregnancy—no matter what.”

And with that, they all headed inside, leaving me standing alone in the entryway.

I watched them—their laughter, their joy—until it became too much. Clutching that awful piece of paper, I collapsed in sobs.

I cried until my lungs give out, my breathing slipping into alkalosis. No one noticed.

Eventually, the cold rain woke me.

Soaked and shivering, I dragged myself back inside—only to be informed that my bedroom had been moved… to the tiny storage room by the basement.

Backed by the family’s affection, Dulcie no longer bothered to hide her contempt. She openly scowled at me now, hurling passive jabs whenever she could. My belongings had been tossed carelessly into a dusty corner. Even my very wedding photo had been torn into pieces.

The ceiling leaked. The floor was damp and freezing. I had to curl up into a tight ball on the cot, trying to stay warm.

By morning, as I had expected, I’d come down with a high fever and a terrible cold. The roar of machinery outside jolted me awake.

I dragged myself to the window—only to see Dulcie cheerfully directing the workers to dig up the garden.

Geoffrey stood beside her, nodding along.

“Are you sure it’s okay to remove the garden, Geoffrey?” she asked. “It’s just… I’m allergic to pollen.”

“It’s fine,” he replied. “Your health comes first. I’ll do whatever you want.”

‘Year after year, the same flowers bloomed—but the people… they were never the same,’ I realized.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Theron.

[Don’t miss your flight tonight.]

I was about to go upstairs and get my luggage when Dulcie stepped in. Seeing my pale, sickly face, she asked with concern.

“You look awful,” she said softly. “Did you sleep okay?”

Then she added, “I’m so sorry. I was scared of the thunder last night… I asked Geoffrey to stay with me. I hope you didn’t mind sleeping downstairs.”

She handed me a cup of what smelled like chamomile tea. As she leaned in, the love bite on her collarbone was impossible to miss.

I pretended I didn’t notice it. I just brushed past her, so I could start packing my stuff upstairs.

But just then—somehow—the tea spilled, scalding her leg. She screamed in pain.

Geoffrey came running. Dulcie collapsed right into his arms, sobbing about how cold I’d been.

He turned to me, frowning, his voice icy.

“Do you not understand? Dulcie’s pregnant because of you. She’s doing this for your sake. Why can’t you just accept her?”

He carried her off to the hospital. As they left, Dulcie shot me a smug, triumphant look over his shoulder.

I stood there, speechless, my heart pounding.

I decided I better go pack upstairs. But once I saw my suitcase, something felt off.

I opened it, and that’s when I realized all my jewelry was missing. I found it later—neatly laid out on Dulcie’s vanity like trophies.

The baby clothes I’d brought home after Sonny’s funeral? Slashed into rags.

My hands trembled with rage.

‘That woman—my so-called best friend—has crossed every line. And Geoffrey… he’s no victim either.’

I was done.

It was useless leaving with whatever stuff belonged to me in that villa. In the end, with nothing but myself, I hopped into the cab I booked and headed straight to the airport.

On the way, I blocked them both on every app I had.

Geoffrey’s POV

By the time I returned from the hospital with Dulcie, it was already dark. Strangely, inside the villa, it was unnervingly quiet.

“Alira?” I called, over and over. But no one answered.

I began to lose it. I searched every room, floor to floor.

Then, finally, in the bedroom upstairs, I saw it—her half-packed suitcase, sitting abandoned.

My brows furrowed. I pulled out his phone and called her—but the call was disconnected.