Sebastian pressed his lips together. “Grandpa, Reese didn’t drug me back then. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“You already know?” His grandfather let Sebastian help him into the police station.
“I do.” Sebastian glanced at the interrogation room. “I heard she even called the police that year, but you covered it up, didn’t you? And her marrying me was your arrangement too, right? Why did you keep quiet all these years?”
“Sebastian, does knowing the real story really change anything for you?”
Just then, the door to the interrogation room swung open and Reese walked out, flexing her wrist.
Sebastian opened his mouth. He wanted to say it did matter, that if he’d known the truth, he wouldn’t have hated her, wouldn’t have let her go through all that pain. But when he met her eyes—cold, mocking, so distant—every word died in his throat.
“Reese, I’m sorry,” Mr. Ratcliff said, brushing off Sebastian’s hand and moving toward her, eyes drifting to her belly. “Come back to the house with me. Don’t bother with this foolish boy. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the hospital myself and make sure the baby is alright.”
Sebastian looked down. “I’ll make time to go with you tomorrow.”
Reese stared at the two of them, suddenly feeling like the whole thing was a joke.
They never cared about her. All they cared about was the child she was carrying.
If she was really that baby’s mother, maybe she’d feel lucky. But this child had nothing to do with her at all.
If they found out she’d gotten rid of it weeks ago, what would their faces look like then?
Just two more weeks. That was all she needed.
“No, Grandpa. I’m fine,” Reese said, stepping back to avoid Mr. Ratcliff’s hand. She looked straight at Sebastian.
“Sebastian, let’s get a divorce.”
She’d had enough. She couldn’t take one more day of this.
Even if she didn’t have all the evidence to prove Sebastian was just using her as a surrogate, just exposing what she knew would be enough to ruin him.


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