His Nine Forged Truths

I didn't want to go, but Sterling insisted. He ushered me into the car, insisting the fresh air would do me good.

It was his mother, Beatrice Hawthorne's, annual charity gala.

To my surprise, Cassidy was there.

She wore a brand-new couture gown, the waistline cinched just so, accentuating her slightly bulging abdomen.

Beatrice’s eyes never left that belly all evening, her joy practically overflowing.

She held Cassidy's hand, fussed over her, and personally instructed the staff to prepare a special non-alcoholic mocktail and warm appetizers for her.

Like me, Cassidy was also carrying a child whose father was "unknown."

Before, I could never understand why Beatrice doted on Cassidy while treating me with such disdain.

Now I understood.

As a classic Boston Brahmin matriarch, Beatrice had likely known about Sterling and Cassidy's affair all along.

The moment Beatrice saw me, the smile vanished from her face.

Seeing this, Cassidy let out an exaggerated gasp.

She immediately stood, lowered her head, and said timidly, "Juliet, I know I come from a humble background and don't deserve to be here. Please don't be angry. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I'll leave right away."

What I once mistook for genuine consideration, I now recognized as the smug smirk she wore beneath a mask of humility.

Beatrice shot to her feet, ready to scold me. "This is my gala. I'll invite whomever I please. Cassidy is a sweet, kind girl. If you dare bully her, you can get out of this house right now!"

Cassidy made a show of trying to smooth things over, but I could feel the triumph radiating from her.

It took every ounce of my strength to remain composed.

I offered her a smile so calm it surprised even me.

"I didn't come for you, Cassidy. I came for Sterling's mother."

Sterling's arm wrapped around my waist, his expression gentle but his grip tense.

"Darling, just enjoy yourself tonight. I had the chef prepare all your favorite dishes."

After we sat down, Beatrice kept piling food onto Cassidy's plate, while mine remained conspicuously empty.

I didn't care. I had no appetite.

When I excused myself to the restroom, my assistant, Maya, found me.

"Mrs. Monroe," she whispered, "I heard from the staff that Beatrice has a room for Ms. Shaw upstairs. She's been living here for two months! Beatrice has even been telling people that the baby is Mr. Hawthorne's. Everyone in their circle knows."

I stared at Maya, feeling another piece of me crack and fall away.

But I still forced a smile.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Maya."

When I returned to the hall, Cassidy was chatting with Beatrice about baby names.

The moment she saw me, she seamlessly pivoted.

"Juliet, I heard you haven't been sleeping well. I found this wonderful essential oil—lavender and chamomile. Should I have some sent to your room?"

I met her gaze, and for the first time, I felt nothing.

No anger, no jealousy, no sadness. Just a vast, empty void.

"No, thank you," I said.

Maya couldn't stand it.

Faking a stumble, she lunged forward, straight into Cassidy. An expensive vase Cassidy had been showing off to a guest slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor.

Cassidy screamed, clutching her stomach and staggering back.

Instinctively, Sterling swept Cassidy into his arms.

This man, who moments ago had been gently telling me to enjoy the gala, now glared at Maya, his voice a low snarl. "Are you blind? If anything happens to Cassidy's child, I'll kill you!"