Frustrated and furious, Anne grabbed her phone and bombarded me with a flood of hateful
text messages.
I smirked, knowing my plan was working.
Once again, I extended the olive branch of cooperation, offering to let her help me leave the Scott family in exchange for my departure. This time, though she continued to insult me, she didn’t outright refuse.
When Evan rushed home, he seemed satisfied to find me sitting quietly under the warm glow of the lamp, reading in a knitted dress.
A rare gentle expression crossed his face.
“Claire, I know you’ve been through a lot. I’ll make it up to you, little by little.
11
I scoffed internally at his hypocrisy, but I turned to him with wide, teary eyes, my voice soft with feigned vulnerability.
“Honey, I’ve thought about it a lot. I still love you the most… and you love me too, right?”
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, a mixture of disdain and amusement. To him, I was just a pathetic dog that couldn’t be driven away.
Yet when I lifted my face, gazing up at him with eyes full of tenderness, his expression
shifted.
Something in him stirred.
He pulled me into his arms, his breath hot against my ear.
“Claire, let’s have another baby, okay?”
His hand slid beneath the hem of my dress, and as I instinctively pulled back, resisting, his phone rang.
It was Anne. Her voice was weak, trembling with a hint of tears.
“Evan, I’m not feeling well. I feel like I’m dying…”
She’d used this excuse countless times before, and it never failed. Every time, no matter how much I pleaded, I’d be left staring at his cold, retreating back, his only words to me:
“She’s sick.”
This time, I didn’t bother to fight.
“Go,” I said simply.
