The moment I turned my back on them, Don Beckett’s expression instantly darkened. For a split second, true alarm flickered in his eyes. He even took a step in my direction—as if something inside him had panicked.

But Delaney chose that moment to clutch her stomach and cry out in pain.

“Beckett… it hurts…” she whimpered weakly, then forced out a trembling smile soaked in false generosity. “But Evelyn matters more. You should run after her.”

Beckett hesitated—only briefly—before shaking his head with finality.

“No,” he said flatly. “Forget about her. Your condition comes first right now.”

He cast a glance down the empty hallway in the direction I had disappeared and muttered impatiently,

“She’s just throwing a fit. Eight months pregnant and emotional—of course she’s scared of being divorced. I’ll deal with her later.”

Then, without another thought spared for me, he lifted Delaney into his arms and carried her straight into the hospital room—like she was the only woman that mattered.

---

When I returned to the Shaw estate, I stood frozen outside the gates for a long while, staring up at the mansion that was once supposed to be my home. Since Delaney’s return to the city, Don Beckett had barely set foot inside. The warmth that once lived within those walls had long since vanished.

I stepped inside, walked straight to the wall, removed our wedding portrait, and dropped it mercilessly into the trash.

I wanted no trace of myself left behind. Not a single illusion. Not one memory of the woman I used to be.

Every couple item—our shared belongings, photos, gifts, mementos—I gathered them all and shoved them into a large trash bag. I was already making my way down the staircase when the front door abruptly swung open.

Don Beckett entered, carrying Delaney in his arms.

The moment his eyes landed on me standing silently near the door, guilt flashed across his face—gone as quickly as it appeared.

“She felt unwell after what happened earlier,” he said, as if that single sentence justified everything.

“Unwell?” I scoffed sharply. “Then why isn’t she lying in a hospital bed? Why bring her here? Do you take this house for a refuge for your mistress?”

“Mind your tongue, Evelyn,” he snapped coldly. “I’m trying to handle this situation. Whether you like it or not, Delaney will be staying here.”

Delaney lifted her hand and placed it tenderly over her belly, her voice soft but deliberate.

“It’s true. There’s nothing improper between Beckett and me. I’m only here for the baby’s sake.”

Every word was chosen to provoke me.

The fire in my chest surged violently. I locked eyes with Beckett and said with unwavering force,

“This is our home, Don Beckett. I refuse to let her live here.”

For a moment, he hesitated—conflict tightening his features.

Then Delaney reached out, grasped his hand, and pressed it gently onto her stomach.

That single gesture shattered every trace of doubt in him.

When he looked back at me, irritation had fully taken over his face.

“That’s enough,” he barked. “You’re pregnant too—how can you be so heartless?”

“You shoved her,” he continued sharply. “I’m only making sure she and the baby are safe. If you can’t tolerate her presence… then perhaps you are the one who should leave.”

Those words struck harder than any slap.

I stared at him in disbelief as the blood drained from my face. My entire body shook—not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of his decision.

Then I spoke, slow and steady.

“As you wish.”

Tonight would be the final night I ever spent under this roof. After this, I would disappear from his world completely—and Don Beckett Shaw would become nothing more than a closed chapter in my life.

With my decision sealed, I tightened my grip on the trash bag and walked straight out the door.

Behind me, Delaney’s voice floated after us, drenched in feigned concern.

“Don’t argue because of me, Beckett. Look at her—she’s so angry she even threw away your wedding photo.”

Beckett’s voice rumbled with annoyance.

“She’s just acting out. Once she understands I won’t indulge her games, she’ll come crawling back.”

A single tear slipped silently down my cheek.

I stepped into the cold night air and dumped the trash into the bin—along with the last remaining pieces of love I had ever held for that man.

The moment I pushed the door open, the sound drifting from the nursery made my blood ignite.

That room had been rebuilt brick by brick the instant Don Beckett learned I was expecting. No expense had ever been spared. Imported furniture. Hand-stitched bedding. Shelves lined with rare toys. Every detail had been chosen by his own hands. That space was meant for our child.

And now… he intended to hand it over to Delaney.

The fury hit me so hard it stole the air from my lungs. I rushed down the corridor and threw the nursery door wide open—only to find Delaney stretched comfortably inside the crib itself, as if she already owned it.

Before logic could catch up to my rage, I dragged her up by the arm. My hands were shaking with uncontrolled anger. But before a single word escaped me, Don Beckett seized my wrist and wrenched me backward.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he barked. “You walk in here acting unhinged like you’ve lost your mind.”

Then he noticed the tears streaking down my face. His grip faltered—just barely.

My voice cracked as I looked at the room behind her.

“So this is it?” I asked hoarsely. “You’re really giving her this nursery?”

Beckett’s brows knit together.

“She said she liked it,” he answered flatly. “It won’t kill you to let her stay here for a short while.”

“Do you even remember—”

“Enough, Evelyn!” he snapped harshly, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Every move you’ve made these past days has been nothing but trouble. If you keep behaving this way, I’ll be forced to reconsider this marriage altogether.”

His gaze hardened into pure ice.

“You wouldn’t want your child to come into the world without a father, would you?”

The threat was unmistakable.

He wasn’t warning me.

He was forcing me.

I looked at his face—the familiar angle he always turned away when he was finished crushing me—and felt years of memories unravel in an instant. The vows. The promises. The quiet confessions meant only for the dark. All of it burned away in a matter of months.

He once swore that this room would belong to our child forever.

He once promised that both the baby and I would be protected for life.

And yet here we stood.

I didn’t argue anymore.

I simply turned and walked out.

My legs felt hollow beneath me as my palm instinctively covered my belly, feeling the faint, living movement inside.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” I whispered softly. “We don’t need that room anymore. I’ll build you a better one. Far away from here.”

Behind me, Don Beckett stood motionless. For a fleeting instant, that same shard of guilt from the hospital crossed his face again—sharp, fleeting, and quickly buried.

Then Delaney called his name from the nursery.

And just like that, he turned back to her.

---

Later that night, alone in the master bedroom, my phone buzzed.

One message.

Then another.

Then several more.

They were all voice recordings—from Delaney.

I played them one by one. And as Beckett’s gentle, indulgent tone filled the room, the truth settled into my bones with crushing clarity.

Everything he had ever shown me… had been rehearsal.

He had practiced tenderness on me.

He had practiced becoming a father on my body and my unborn child.

All of it was preparation—for Delaney’s baby.

Every nourishing soup he once urged me to drink.

Every expensive gift sent for my pregnancy.

Every soft-spoken piece of advice he shared about raising a child.

Practice.

All of it.

Even the nursery itself—the room I had believed was sacred—had been designed, not for my baby… but for hers.

I realized then that my child and I had never been more than training material. He didn’t want Delaney to suffer through his learning mistakes. So he used me instead.

I replayed the messages again. And again.

The ache inside my chest grew until it swelled into something unbearable—until a laugh tore out of my throat.

Not because it was funny.

But because the pain had nowhere left to go.

Everything I had cherished since the day I learned I was pregnant… every bit of pride, every fragile hope… it had all been a lie.

Beckett’s affection toward my child had never once matched the devotion he poured into Delaney and the life inside her.

My fingers crushed around my phone until my hand trembled. Breathing became difficult. The only thing I could do was whisper, again and again:

“It’s okay… it’s okay… it’s okay…”

Because soon—we would be free.

It would just be me and the baby.

And we would survive.

As if understanding, my baby kicked gently.

I wrapped both arms around my stomach and held tight.

I stayed that way for a long time—until the shaking stopped… and I could finally breathe again.

From the moment Delaney took up residence inside the Shaw estate, Don Beckett became her shadow. Wherever she went, he followed. Whatever she needed, he provided.

As for me?

The second the truth became undeniable, I stopped waiting for anything from him.

Late one night, I went downstairs for a glass of water. As I passed the guest wing, Delaney’s voice floated through a door left slightly ajar.

“Beckett,” she murmured sweetly, “I heard the Saint Christopher medal your family protects works wonders. The baby keeps me awake every night… could I wear it for a while?”

That medallion was not ordinary jewelry.

It was a Shaw bloodline relic—proof of legitimacy. A symbol that declared who truly held the title of Mrs. Shaw.

On the night of our wedding, Beckett himself had fastened it around my neck. He told me then that it would belong to me for life. That there would never be another woman who carried that title.

His voice pulled me back to the present.

Through the narrow opening, I watched him lean down and brush his lips against Delaney’s cheek, smiling with indulgent warmth.

“Of course,” he said gently. “I’ll get it from her. You can wear it however long you like—at least until the baby arrives.”

The pain that stabbed through my chest was sharp and immediate.

I couldn’t even remember the exact words he had once sworn to me anymore. But it didn’t matter. Because he clearly didn’t remember them either.

I took a step back—but the floor betrayed me with a soft creak.

The door opened.

Beckett came out and found me standing there. Surprise flickered across his face… followed quickly by guilt. He gently closed the door behind him and guided me farther down the corridor.

“Evelyn…” he said cautiously. “You heard that, didn’t you?”

I remained silent.

After a brief pause, he continued, carefully choosing his words.

“Delaney hasn’t been able to sleep well. Could you let her use the medal for a little while?”

I gave a slow nod—but at that exact moment, a sharp pain twisted through my side. I winced and forced it down.

“I’ll give it to her,” I said quietly. “But only if you agree to one condition.”

His face brightened instantly, as if I had just granted him absolution. He stepped toward me, arms ready to pull me into an embrace—but I stepped back before he could touch me.

Delaney’s fragrance clung to him.

It made my stomach churn.

“I knew you’d understand eventually,” he said with visible relief. “Once Delaney gives birth, I’ll return it to you. Don’t overthink it—your position in the Shaw family is secure.”

So he hadn’t forgotten what the medal symbolized.

“I don’t care whether she gives it back or not,” I replied calmly. “I just need you to sign something first.”

Then I turned and went upstairs.

A moment later, I returned with the divorce papers already opened to the page highlighted for his name.

“There’s no need to upset yourself like this,” he said softly, mistaking everything. “Delaney won’t keep it forever. Like I promised—I’ll hand it back after the baby is born.”

Without reading a single line, he signed.

The instant I held the finalized papers in my hands, the storm inside me faded into silence. I never imagined it would be this simple.

Beckett smiled faintly.

“I know I’ve neglected you these past months. Go buy whatever you want. I’ll cover everything.”

So that was why he signed so easily.

He thought I was just bargaining for money.

Without another word, I unclasped the medal from around my neck and placed it into his palm.

For a moment, he hesitated. Then his fingers slowly closed around it.

“Don’t worry,” he said again, as if needing to reassure himself. “Once the baby’s born, it’ll be yours again.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I replied flatly. “Let her wear it as long as she wants.”

Moved by emotion, he pulled me into a sudden embrace. I pushed him away at once, but he didn’t seem to mind. He turned immediately and headed straight back into Delaney’s room.

A heartbeat later, her delighted laughter rang through the hallway.

I stayed where I was, standing silently by the window.

Tomorrow… I would leave.

And this time—I wouldn’t look back.