Chapter 2

Mara's POV

“Sit, son. Breakfast is ready.”

Camille motioned toward the chair beside her.

I sat opposite him, still unsure how to breathe in the same space as the man I had sinned with.

“Thank you,” he said simply, taking his seat. His voice carried quiet authority, the kind that silenced a room without effort.

Camille added, “You arrived late last night. Too tired to attend Andrea’s engagement party. I would have loved to see you there.”

“I had other matters to attend to,” he replied.

Harmless words, yet my stomach twisted.

Other matters.

Does he remember? He sounds like he doesn’t. Or maybe he just hides it well.

“By the way…” Elias turned to Andrea. “Congratulations on your big day.”

“Thank you. My fiancé and I appreciate it,” Andrea said brightly.

David’s eyes darted to me, as if Andrea’s words affected me. I looked away, focusing on my meal.

“We’ll have to talk about the company today,” Camille said.

“I just came from there. You don’t have to worry about it,” Elias replied.

My fork slipped from my hand, clattering softly against the table.

I looked up, meeting his gaze—brief, flickering, like he had been watching me without looking at me at all.

When he spoke again, his voice was steady, almost casual. “Mara will be joining me at the company.”

I froze. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t look at me this time. “You’ll be working with me.”

Camille lifted her head, surprised. “That’s sudden, Elias. She’s still...”

“She’s Philip’s wife,” he said evenly. “She needs to be present at the company.”

My chest tightened. “I’m not agreeing to...”

“It isn’t a request,” he cut in. His tone was smooth, unraised, but final. “You'll start next week. I’ll have your schedule sent to you.”

My mouth went dry. “You can’t just decide that.”

“I can,” he said softly. “And I have.”

Silence swept across the table.

Camille sighed, folding her napkin. “He’s right, Mara. It’s… what Philip would have wanted. For appearances, if nothing else.”

Appearances.

That was all I had ever been to this family—a ring, a headline, a placeholder.

Elias stood and pushed his chair back. “We’re done here.”

He left without a glance.

Andrea didn’t wait a second after he was gone.

“Why are you acting like you don’t want that position, Mara?” she snapped.

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused.

She sighed, irritated, and walked away.

Camille stood next.

“Mother… please tell him I don’t want that. I don’t want any of it.”

Her expression hardened instantly.

“Remember where you are, Mara. You don’t get to call me ‘mother’ here.”

Then she left too.

I pushed my plate away. The food suddenly tasted like ash.

Halfway to the door, David’s voice stopped me.

“Is that how they’ve been treating you?”

I didn’t look back. I kept walking.

I went to my room and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into nothing.

What kind of man was Elias Lawson?

I groaned into my palms. I already hated him.

My phone rang—Clara.

“Baby girl,” she burst out, “before you vanish again, I’m reminding you, your appointment is exactly one week from now. Don’t stand me up. I will disown you.”

A weak laugh escaped me. “I won’t.”

“You’d better not. You’ve been skipping too many follow-ups.”

“I know… I’ll come. I promise.”

A week later, I kept that promise.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and cold air. I headed straight to Clara’s office. She stood at the end of the hallway with a file in hand, one eyebrow raised.

“Mara Lawson,” she said with mock sternness, “look who finally decided not to run from her own body.”

I rolled my eyes and hugged her. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, under emotional blackmail.” She pulled back, studying my face. “You look tired again.”

“I live in a house full of people who want me gone. Tired is my brand now.”

She looped her arm through mine. “And I heard about David’s engagement. I swear he’s doing it out of spite.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Fine. Let’s check you before you faint on my floor. I just cleaned it.”

I laughed softly and followed her inside. She shut the door and dropped the serious-doctor act.

“Okay,” she said, flipping open my file. “First—your test results.”

My pulse picked up. “Good or bad?”

“Both,” she admitted. “You’re healing, but slowly. Hormones are still adjusting. Your uterus is still sensitive. You have internal inflammation.”

My breath caught. “So I’m not okay.”

“You’re healing,” she corrected. “But you’re not Superwoman. No stress. No lifting. And, Mara—no sexual activity. None.”

I groaned. “You sound like my mother.”

“I sound like someone who doesn’t want you bleeding on my table.”

I tried to joke, but guilt pressed hard against my chest. Clara noticed instantly.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

I looked away.

“Oh no,” she said. “Start talking.”

My fingers twisted. “Clara… something happened.”

“When?” “Where?” “Why do you look guilty?”

The questions came fast.

I swallowed. “I slept with someone.”

She blinked. “Okay. It happens. But who?”

“At the engagement party,” I whispered.

Her jaw dropped. “Mara! Don’t tell me it was David.”

“No,” I cut in quickly. “I wouldn’t let that happen. It was… someone else.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who?”

I hesitated. “It turns out… he’s Philip’s brother.”

She froze.

“Mara. No. No, you didn’t.”

“I was drunk,” I whispered. “I swear, I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“And your body wasn’t healed!” she nearly shrieked. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I didn’t know,” I said. “ I wasn’t thinking.”

Her voice softened, turning serious.

“Mara. No one can ever know. Not Andrea. Not Camille. Not David. No one in that house.”

“I know.”

“I mean it,” she said, voice trembling. “For your safety, your peace, your reputation—stay away from him. Whatever happened that night ends there.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Am I… a bad person?”

She squeezed my hand. “No. You were lonely, hurting, and fate screwed you over. But now you have to protect yourself.”

She exhaled softly. “And you need to keep it a secret. Completely. Just like no one knows you’re even here today.”

I frowned, and she caught it immediately.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she added gently.

“And I’ll say it again, it wasn’t your fault you lost Philip’s baby. The pregnancy was dangerous from the start. One day, you’ll explain it to them. But for now… let them believe it was a miscarriage. You don’t owe anyone your pain, Mara.”

My throat tightened. “What would I do without you, Clara? I love you so much. God really blessed me with a best friend and a doctor in one.”

She squeezed my hands. “I’m here. Anytime. Always.”

When I returned to the mansion, it was late.

My stomach growled, so I slipped into the kitchen for fruit.

The room was quiet. I sliced an apple, leaning against the counter, the dull ache in my abdomen pulsing.

I turned to grab a cup—

and froze.

David stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

“I didn’t know you were back.”

“I live here,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

He nodded, glancing around. “You look… tired.”

“I could say the same.”

The silence stretched—awkward, heavy. Our first real conversation since the breakup.

“I heard about Philip,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He took a small step forward. “I wanted to reach out sooner. But… it didn’t feel right.”

“No,” I said softly. “It wouldn’t have.”

He looked at me with something familiar in his eyes—painful, gentle, almost kind.

“You deserve better than this place, Mara.”

Our eyes met, and for a moment, something in his eyes softened. Almost kind.

“Baby, I’m back! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Andrea’s voice shattered the moment as she strode into the kitchen.