Charlotte Jennings POV:

The ride back to our penthouse was silent, a thick, suffocating blanket of unspoken words filling the space between myself and Gabe' s grim-faced driver. I stared out at the glittering lights of New York, but saw nothing. My mind was a chaotic storm of betrayal and disbelief. The home I had designed, the sanctuary I had built for us, now felt like a gilded cage waiting to close in on me.

When we arrived, Gabe was already there, pacing the length of our living room, the city skyline a dramatic backdrop to his distress. He had shed his jacket and tie, his sleeves rolled up his forearms. He looked like a man preparing for a fight.

He stopped when I walked in, his eyes searching my face. "Lottie."

I said nothing. I walked past him to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared down at the river, a dark, churning ribbon of black.

"I know you' re angry," he started, his voice soft, persuasive. The voice he used to close billion-dollar deals and charm skeptical investors. "You have every right to be. But you have to understand. The IPO..."

"Don' t," I cut him off, my voice flat. "Don' t you dare talk to me about the IPO right now."

"It' s everything, Lottie! It' s everything we' ve worked for!"

"We?" I spun around, the fury I' d been suppressing finally erupting. "We worked for this? I was the one holding you up when you were ready to quit. I was the one who believed in you when your own family called you a failure. And this is how you repay me? By publicly humiliating me and claiming another woman' s child?"

"It' s not like that!" he insisted, taking a step toward me. "Harper is... she' s fragile. She has no one. Her family threw her out. She came to me for help."

"And what am I, Gabe? Am I not fragile? Am I not carrying your child? Or does our baby not matter as much as the child of your childhood sweetheart?"

The words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. He flinched as if I' d slapped him again.

"Of course our baby matters," he said, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. He knelt before me, taking my hands in his. His touch felt alien, wrong. I didn' t pull away, my body frozen in shock. "Lottie, look at me. I love you. You are my wife. Nothing changes that."

I stared down at the top of his head, at the man I loved kneeling at my feet, and felt nothing but a vast, empty coldness.

"It' s just for show," he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "A story for the press. Once the IPO is finalized, everything will go back to normal. We' ll expose the truth, I promise. I' ll tell the world that you are the one carrying my heir. We will quietly adopt our own child. Legally, it will be clean. No one will ever know."