Chapter 17

Every move felt like a slap across my face. My heart ached with the sting of it. I had played out scenes like that in my head over and over again. Yet, standing in my home, I couldn’t help but feel a chill run down my spine.

“Jane, you’re awake?” Margaret turned to see me and greeted me with a smile, “Come on, try some of Bry’s cooking. It’s to die for.”

With that, she carried a dish to the table, acting every bit the hostess.

I took a deep breath, stepped past her, and asked Bryant straight up, “Why is she here?”

Finishing up in the kitchen, Bryant removed his apron and said coldly, “She’ll be gone after this meal.”

“You want me to leave, huh?” Margaret glared at him.

“Margaret, take the hint! Stop stirring trouble,” Bryant’s tone was icy, his patience wearing thin.

“Whatever,” Margaret muttered and pulled me to join the meal as if the person who had been crying and begging my husband to divorce me wasn’t her and as if she wasn’t the one trying to whisk my husband away

was indeed excellent, a full spread that was a

hungry, but the baby inside

did I have to fear if she could shamelessly be my home? So, I sat down to

tried to make conversation. “Tastes

always great.

was a lie. But I just wanted to mark

at Bryant. “Never knew you were this good to

you’re eating?” Bryant scoffed and served me some

him, especially tomato sauce pasta, my favorite. He puts his heart into

fork tightened until my knuckles turned white, nails digging into my So, the pasta that

flesh.

learned to cook on

Chapter 17

for a whole minute.

Margaret? Or the

for me, how would you have

anymore, and sneered, “Oh, is that why? Your marriage didn’t work out, so you thought he’d clean up your

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