Chapter 3

"Sophie? What happened?"

Ethan pulls Sophie into his arms, eyes swimming with concern.

Sophie shakes her head, all wounded innocence.

"It's nothing. It's my fault. Don't blame Claire."

The more she says that, the more convinced he is that I'm the bully.

"Claire!"

His voice goes cold. Commanding. "Apologize."

He says it like he's ordering a servant.

A bitter smile tugs at my lips.

He frowns, irritated.

“Sophie's been in my life way before you. She's family. You need to get over yourself and stop acting so threatened by her.”

"If not for her sake, then for mine. Just be nice. Is that so hard?"

I keep my face blank. I've seen this exact scene a hundred times before.

I'm so over it.

I'm about to tell them both to get out — when my phone rings on the counter. Video call.

The screen lights up: My Baby Boy 💙

Ethan sees the name. His eyes go wide, electric.

His hand shoots out to answer it before I can.

I grab the phone first. My two-year-old's round little face fills the screen.

"Mommy, I miss you."

The second Ethan hears that word — Mommy — he's buzzing. Certain now. Absolutely certain I gave him a son.

I say a few quick words to Leo.

The moment Ethan reaches for my phone, I hang up.

"Let me see my son!"

He's grinning ear to ear. All that anger from a minute ago — gone, like it never happened.

Sophie's face darkens behind him.

"He's not your son."

I look Ethan dead in the eye, voice flat and final.

"Stop coming here. Both of you. You're delusional, you know that? Completely out of your mind."

He doesn't even flinch. Still smiling, still coaxing.

"Come on, don't be mad."

"I really missed you and our boy."

And just like that, I realize — a man this deluded won't believe I've moved on until he sees my husband with his own eyes.

Then he shifts gears, casual as anything:

"Mom's birthday is coming up."

"You're a great cook. Make a few of her favorites."

"Use it as a chance to patch things up between you two."

"Now that you've given her a grandson, she won't give you a hard time anymore."

So he knows. He's always known.

Three years of marriage — and his mother tormented me the entire time.

Mrs. Graves looked down on me because I didn't come from money.

Even though Ethan married me properly, she never let me attend a single family dinner.

If she was in the room, I wasn't allowed at the table.

I didn't like her either.

Our relationship was ice — we simply pretended the other didn't exist.

And through all of it, Ethan stayed silent. Never once took my side.

A mocking smile pulls at my mouth. I ask deliberately:

"Ethan, hypothetically speaking —"

"What if I cook her an entire five-course dinner and she still won't say a single word to me?"

He hesitates before answering:

"Just say something nice to her. Butter her up a little. You know how she is — her bark's worse than her bite."

Sophie chimes in, voice dripping with fake sympathy:

"Claire, there's no shame in a younger woman showing respect to her elder. You know what really works on her? When someone swallows their pride and apologizes. On their knees, even."

She's telling me to kneel. With a smile on her face.

I let out a dry laugh. Then I look Ethan straight in his dark eyes, dead serious.

"Ethan. Three years changes everything."

"I'm married. And the child isn't yours."

I turn to Sophie.

"Maybe you should try kneeling. Might be your only shot at getting through that door."