Chapter 4

"Ezra," I said quietly. "I wish you both... a long and happy life together."

I turned to leave.

That was when Ezra finally panicked.

He grabbed my wrist.

"Greta, are you done making a scene!"

It was the first time in three years he'd ever raised his voice at me.

His face was full of the fury and shame of a man who'd just been humiliated in public.

He hauled me out of the restaurant and shoved me into the passenger seat.

The car door slammed shut with a violent crash.

He started the car without a word and drove home fast the whole way.

When we got there, he dragged me out of the car and pushed me into the living room.

Then he locked me hard against his chest, chin pressed to the top of my head.

The anger drained out of him, and his voice softened, tired.

"I was wrong, Greta. I really was wrong."

"It's just, Pearl's a young girl, fresh out of school, all alone trying to make it in a big city. I felt sorry for her, that's all. So I looked out for her a little more."

"There's really nothing between me and her. I swear."

"Don't be angry anymore. Let's go register the marriage. Tomorrow, first thing. Okay?"

I leaned against his chest, not moving.

Just then his phone rang.

The shrill ringtone cut through this brief, counterfeit warmth.

He glanced at the screen. It was his mother.

He hit the speaker button, wanting her to talk me down.

On the other end came his mother's voice, kind as ever.

"Ezra, honey, how are things with you and Greta? Have you made up?"

"Mom, help me talk to her..."

"Oh," Ezra's mother sighed. "I just finished talking with that Pearl. She's really a lovely girl. Well-mannered, sensible."

Ezra's face changed in an instant, and he scrambled to hang up.

But his mother's voice still came through the receiver, perfectly clear.

"Pearl told me Greta had some kind of surgery a while back, hurt her body, and the doctor said... it'd be hard for her to get pregnant?"

"Ezra, the James line has been an only son for three generations. We can't be left without an heir."

"This thing with you and Greta, why don't you... give it some more thought?"

Every drop of blood in me froze in that instant.

This was the deepest pain and secret I kept buried in my heart.

Years ago, because of an accident, I'd had surgery, and the doctor said my chances of conceiving were lower than most women's.

I had told this to one person only. Ezra.

I'd told him because I wanted him to know all of my past. The good and the bad.

And he had taken my honesty and treated it as leverage to be tossed aside whenever it suited him.

To make his own betrayal look reasonable.

To give himself a respectable excuse for wanting to trade me in.

He took my deepest scar and used it as proof that I was "defective," and he handed it to his family, handed it to that assistant circling like a vulture.

I could no longer feel any warmth in his arms.

I didn't look at him again. With all the strength I had, I pushed him away.

I stood up straight, calm, and looked at him with cold, unfamiliar eyes, and said each word slowly and clearly:

"Ezra, you're truly filthy."

Then I turned, and step by step, without looking back, I walked out into the rain.

I flagged down a taxi at the roadside and headed straight for the airport.