Chapter 3

Antony Delgado.

I made it back to the guest room, shut the door, and slid down against it without a sound.

I bit down on the back of my hand until the coppery-sweet taste of blood spread across my tongue. Only that small pain made me feel alive again.

The face in the mirror was drained white, a stranger's face.

I looked at that mirror and tried to pull my lips into a smile, but I couldn't manage even one.

So I gave up trying to stand.

At seven that evening, the lock turned.

Antony and Gay Fox came home, one behind the other.

Antony was carrying a thermal container.

The chicken soup I always liked.

He came over, crouched down, tilted his head up to look at me, apology in his eyes.

"Baby, I'm sorry. The surgery ran late."

He opened the container, and the rich smell rushed out at once.

"I stopped and stood in line on my way home just to get this for you. To help you build your strength back."

"Call it an early apology for tonight, when I can't be with you because of my 'hospital shift.'"

Calmly, I took the bowl he held out and drank a mouthful of the soup.

"It tastes good, but my stomach's a little off. I don't want any more."

I pushed the bowl aside and picked up my phone.

Right in front of the two of them, I sent the photos of the house I'd taken yesterday, together with the pre-approval notice from the online resale marketplace, to a real estate agent I knew.

"Miss Pruitt, great location, and paid in full with no mortgage. I happen to have a few very interested clients right now."

"I'll bring the first group by tomorrow morning to see it, if that works? All cash buyers."

I watched the stunned looks on Antony's and Gay Fox's faces as my fingertips tapped out a few words on the screen.

"Anytime works. The sooner the better."

Once the message was sent, I got up and headed for the bedroom.

As I passed the couch, a small ring box tumbled out of the pocket of Antony's suit jacket. Inside sat the pink-diamond wedding ring I had drawn and designed myself.

He pulled me into his arms, tender and full of feeling. "I was going to surprise you with it after we signed the marriage license in a few days. Gigi, from now on I'll give you the best of everything in the world."

But the next afternoon, right after I finished the notarized home sale with the agent, I saw Gay Fox's post on social media.

In the photo, that pink diamond sat plainly on her hand.

The caption stung. "He says only the real wife is worthy of this one-of-a-kind pink diamond. A gift for the pregnancy. Love you, Mr. L."

I called to confront him.

Faced with my questions, Antony showed no panic at being caught. Instead, in his gentlest voice, with a reproach that looked down on me from above, he said:

"Gigi's fingers are swollen from the pregnancy, and this ring fits her just right, so I let her borrow it for a couple of days to keep her calm."

"Gigi, you're a reasonable person. Why fight with a pregnant woman? Just think of the ring as a gift to the baby in her belly, for luck. If you want one, I'll buy you a bigger one."

Calmly, into the phone, I said: "Fine, I won't fight over it. Take good care of her tonight."

Before Antony could say anything else, I cut off the call.

I looked down at what I'd just picked up, the expedited title-transfer receipt stamped in bright red, and the corner of my mouth curved into a cold smile.

Antony, you don't need to buy me a bigger one.

I tossed the pink-diamond purchase receipt into the trash and flagged down a taxi.

"Riverside Manor, please."

Tonight, it was time to go back and pack the last of my things.