Betrayal in the Marriage War

I stood frozen in the center of our dining room, red wine dripping down the front of my cream silk dress—the one I'd carefully selected for tonight's dinner with Reid's business associates. The cold liquid seeped through the fabric, staining my skin beneath. Around me, conversation had halted, every eye in the room fixed on the spectacle I'd become.

"Oh my goodness!" Giselle's hand flew to her mouth in exaggerated horror. "I'm so clumsy these days! Pregnancy brain, they call it." Her free hand caressed her still-flat stomach as she looked around the table with practiced vulnerability.

I knew better. I'd watched her calculate the trajectory, waiting until I was directly across from Mr. Harrington—Reid's most important client—before "accidentally" bumping my elbow with her hip as she passed behind me.

"It's fine," I managed, pressing a napkin against the spreading stain. "I'll just go change."

"Oh, but you can't miss Mr. Harrington's story about the Shanghai merger!" Giselle's eyes widened with concern so perfect it would have won her an acting award. "I have some maternity clothes upstairs that might fit you."

The implication hung in the air. I felt heat rise to my cheeks as several glances dropped to my midsection, where the fitted dress admittedly pulled a bit tighter than it had last year.

"That won't be necessary," I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I have plenty of my own clothes."

Giselle's face crumpled. "I was just trying to help." Her voice quavered as tears welled in her eyes. "I know you don't like me, but I'm trying so hard..."

Reid was at her side instantly, arm around her shoulders. "Shh, don't upset yourself." He turned to me, eyes hard despite his calm tone. "Tessa, Giselle was only trying to be kind. You don't need to be cruel."

"Cruel?" The word escaped me before I could stop it.

"Yes, cruel." Reid's voice had taken on that public reprimand tone he'd been using more frequently. "She's pregnant and trying to make peace. The least you could do is accept her gesture with grace."

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat uncomfortably. The other guests studied their wine glasses. I stood there, humiliated, wine-soaked, and somehow cast as the villain.

"I'll go change," I repeated quietly, retreating from the room with as much dignity as I could muster.

Upstairs, I peeled off the ruined dress and searched for something suitable to replace it. When I opened my jewelry box for the pearl earrings that would match my backup dress, I froze. My grandmother's antique necklace—the one with the delicate sapphire pendant—was missing.

I knew exactly where it was.

When I returned downstairs, Giselle was entertaining the table with a story about her childhood in France. Around her neck, catching the light with every animated gesture, was my grandmother's necklace.

"That's my necklace," I said during a lull in conversation. The words came out sharper than I'd intended.

Giselle's hand flew to the pendant, her expression one of innocent confusion. "Oh? Reid said I could borrow anything I needed." She turned to him with wide eyes. "Didn't you, darling?"

"I did." Reid nodded, his expression warning me not to pursue this. "Giselle mentioned she needed something blue to complete her outfit."

"That necklace was my grandmother's," I said quietly. "It's very special to me."

"Tessa." Reid's voice had that edge again. "It's just jewelry. Giselle is wearing it for one evening."

"During her delicate time," added Mr. Harrington with a knowing smile, clearly attempting to diffuse the tension. "My wife was the same way during her pregnancies—wanted to feel beautiful despite the changes."

I felt the trap closing around me. If I insisted, I'd be the heartless woman denying a simple comfort to a pregnant woman. If I let it go, another piece of myself would be taken.

Later that night, after the guests had gone and Giselle had retreated upstairs with Reid, he cornered me in the kitchen.

"We need to talk about the medication," he said without preamble.

I stiffened. "What about it?"

"Giselle's pregnancy has complications. She needs experimental treatments that insurance won't cover."

I stared at him, disbelieving. "And?"

"And that medication you're hoarding could be sold to pay for her care." His eyes were cold, calculating. "Our child's care, Tessa."

From the doorway, I caught Giselle watching us, her hand resting protectively over her stomach, her lips curved in a smile she didn't bother to hide from me.

The medication was the last thing I had. The last piece of control. The last hope for Reid's life—a life he seemed determined to throw away.

"No," I whispered, and for the first time in months, I felt something other than despair. I felt rage.