The Dying Wife's Secret Baby Bump

fabric of her trousers. His touch burned

and desperation. She couldn't fight him off. She was to

ing into his skin. "Stop!" she gasped,

r thigh. His eyes narrowed, a flash of

d, the lie tumbling out. "It'

ing for the deception. The sweat, the pale skin, the trembling-what a pathetic performance. She l

mock display of pain that wasn't entirely fake.

It was so intense she couldn't hold back a cry. She

between her legs. A wetness that

rained from her face, leaving

ng. Really ble

er to a hospital. But she couldn't. If he knew she was pregnant, he would make her get rid

the secret. Sh

s that had been threatening all day finally spilled over, streaming dow

impered. "I just

muscle ticking. He looked like he wanted to argue, to call her a liar. But the

barked at

side of the seat, putting as much distance between them as the car allowed. He pu

m the flow. The warmth was a constant, terrifying reminder of the life she m

r finally stopped, Harrison was out the door before the e

her up. She walked through the front door, her on

the stairs when his

len

turned slowly, expecting to see his face cont

his study, his expression unread

" he said, his voice clipped and devoid o

ps fading down the hall. He didn't say

were an acknowledgment. A cruelly practical one. It was a dismissal, not an act of care. It was a command to a servant, n

his attention. It couldn't erase the pain. It co

e lead. She locked her bedroom door behind her a

tea. There would be no comfort. There was only the throbbing pa

haking so badly she could barely type. She

bleeding to stop. Praying to a god she wasn't sur