While I Was in Labor, He Was Welcoming Another Woman’s Child

Vivian's brother was innocent? And my father wasn't?

I ground my teeth, unable to believe this was the man I'd loved for ten years. "Benedict, I'm telling you right now—I will make sure Derek Chambers rots in prison!"

Benedict seized my wrist. "No. Phoebe, if you insist on pressing charges, I'll divorce you!"

The air went dead silent.

A laugh tore out of me, raw and broken, my eyes burning red. "Fine. Divorce me."

A wave of panic flickered through Benedict's chest, formless and sharp.

Could Phoebe have found out about the fake marriage?

But before he could think further, Naomi walked in holding my daughter's urn, one eyebrow raised in triumph. "Phoebe, you dare destroy this family's peace, and I'll smash this precious little thing to pieces."

Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my head. I lunged forward, screaming. "Give that back to me! Do you have any idea what that—"

Benedict's palm cracked across my face and sent me to the floor. Meeting my stunned, disbelieving eyes, guilt crept into his voice. "I'm sorry, Phoebe. You insisted on making a scene. I had no choice—"

Naomi raised the urn high above her head, a deliberate threat. "Phoebe. Sign the forgiveness agreement, and everyone walks away happy."

I squeezed my eyes shut against the agony. On one side, my father's body, his eyes still open in death. On the other, the memory of my daughter kicking inside my belly.

I looked at Benedict through bloodshot eyes. "Benedict, do you really have to push me this far?"

Something unreadable passed through his gaze. He frowned, confused. "Phoebe, your father is gone. The dead can't come back. Can't you just think of it as building good karma for our daughter? She's still in the incubator at the hospital—"

But he didn't know yet. Our daughter was already dead.

"I'll sign."

They watched me write my name on the forgiveness agreement. Every one of them smiled, satisfied.

Benedict stared at my eyes—hollow, drained of every last spark of life—and a knot of unease tightened in his chest. He strode toward me, eager to make amends. "Phoebe, don't worry. I'll call the hospital right now and make sure the doctors are giving our daughter the best care."

He dialed. On the other end, a nurse answered as though she'd just heard the most absurd thing in the world. "Layla Young? That baby died right after she was born. You're her father, and you didn't even know?"