She Left With His Secret Child And Built Her Own Throne novel · Chapter 3 of 32

Chapter 3: The Bed

Imogen finds out she is pregnant, is sent home by her sister-in-law, walks in on Lachlan and Daphne in their bed, signs the papers in four minutes and keeps the baby a secret.

Imogen's POV

I tried everything that week.

I set a table for two in his study and he did not come.

I booked us a weekend away and he said he was busy.

I said the word therapy, and he left the room before I finished it.

On Thursday morning I stood in the bathroom with a test in my hand.

Two lines.

I sat down on the edge of the tub and put my hand flat on my stomach.

For one whole minute I was sure this would fix everything.

I put the test in my purse, tied my hair up, and put on jeans and dark glasses.

Daphne was in the kitchen with a mug of tea.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To find my husband."

"I'll keep the house warm," she said.

I drove to his office first.

His assistant said he had gone out and she didn't know where.

I thought of the one other place he went when he couldn't stand to be alone.

So I drove to his mother's house.

His mother's car stood in the drive.

Before I reached the steps, the front door opened and Cordelia came out to meet me.

She opened her arms.

"Imogen. Oh, sweetheart. Are you all right?"

I shook my head. My throat was too tight to talk.

"I haven't been able to reach him since Monday," I said. "I just need to see him."

"He was here an hour ago." She squeezed my shoulders. "He said he was going back to your place to pick up a few things."

Relief went through me so hard I almost cried.

"Thank you," I said.

I was turning to go when his mother's voice came from the doorway.

"Are you going to keep up this act much longer?"

She stood in the hall in pearls, with her arms folded.

"My son gave you a deadline," she said. "Why are you chasing him across the city?"

She had never wanted me in her family, and now she looked glad.

"He's the one suffering," she said. "He's stuck in a loveless marriage because you won't sign and let him go."

"Mother, stop it," Cordelia said, stepping between us.

"I need to go," I told Cordelia quietly.

I walked back to my car without looking at his mother again.

I sat with my hands on the wheel until they stopped shaking.

Then I drove home.

I tossed my keys to the driver at the door and went inside.

Lachlan's study was empty.

I took the stairs two at a time.

A sound came through our bedroom door, low and soft.

I opened it.

My husband was in our bed, and Daphne was in it with him.

My purse slipped from my hand and hit the floor.

Lachlan sat up at once. He pulled the sheet over Daphne's shoulders and kept his body between us.

"How?" I said. "Why?"

"Don't wait for an apology," Lachlan said. His voice was perfectly calm. "I'm not sorry."

That hurt more than the shouting had.

"I'm in love with someone else, Imogen. I gave you time to sign, and you refused. I won't keep my life on hold to spare your feelings."

I looked past him at Daphne.

She held the sheet against her chest and looked at the quilt.

"I took you in," I said. "And it had to be my husband?"

"I've wanted him for years," Daphne whispered. "I couldn't stop."

"If you have a problem, bring it to me," Lachlan said.

I laughed, and it hurt.

My cheeks were wet, and I wiped them with the back of my hand.

"I never touched another man," I said. "Not once. Whatever you think you saw."

"Save it."

"There's a photograph," I said. "You know there is. I found it."

His face did not change.

"Then you know I'm not guessing," he said.

I stood there, and I understood that he would never ask me one question about it.

"Fine," I said. "You want your divorce, you have it."

I looked him in the eye and did not blink.

"We walk away clean. Nothing of yours stays with me, and nothing of mine will ever belong to you."

He gave one short nod.

"No calls. No letters," I said. "You will not contact me again."

I walked into the closet.

The papers lay on the shelf where he had left them.

I took the pen from the dresser and signed every page he had flagged in yellow.

It took me four minutes.

When I came back out, I dropped the papers on the foot of the bed.

"I won't tell you I wish I'd never met you," I said.

I could not say it, because of what I carried.

"I hope she's worth it."

I turned my back on both of them.

I walked down the stairs, and out the front door, and past the car I had driven for five years.

I did not look at the house.

On the sidewalk I took the test out of my purse and looked at the two lines again.

Nobody in that house would ever know.

"I'm keeping you," I said, out loud, to the street and to no one.

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