The photo showed their fingers intertwined, resting gently on her still-flat stomach.
Every single photo was a blade dipped in ice, plunging into the softest part of my chest.
I curled up under the covers and cried without making a sound. My tears soaked the pillow cold.
Beside me, Ralph slept peacefully. There was even a faint smile on his lips. Probably dreaming about his other little family.
I stared at that face, so perfectly, thoroughly false, and felt the last ember of love in my heart burn itself into hate.
You think you can fool everyone, Ralph?
I'm not some pushover you can walk all over.
I am the rightful heir to Henson Group.
Years ago, to shield his fragile ego, I'd hidden my identity and roughed it alongside him while he built his startup. I funneled Henson resources his way, lined up investors, pulled strings on deals. Every time I wanted something for myself, a real anniversary, a trip, even a decent dinner, he brushed me off with "We need to focus on the business."
Turns out he wasn't broke. He just refused to spend it on me.
I slipped out of bed without a sound and padded into the study. I opened my laptop.