Chapter 3
Ireturned to Carrington Manor, the cage built for me after our marriage.
The twins were still awake, running to cling to my legs as soon as I stepped inside.
“Mom, did Dad come back too?” Ethan asked.
Theard their little feet run toward the door, only to return, their disappointment palpable.
“Did Dad not want us?” Ethan asked, tears welling up.
2:01 PM c
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“Did Dad not want us?” Ethan asked, tears welling up.
My heart clenched, a crushing pain stealing my breath.
I knelt and held them close.
“Mom wants you. Will you come with me if we leave?”
Life might be tougher, but it would be better than living in the shadows here.
Lillian’s small hand brushed the tears from my cheeks.
“Mom, don’t cry. We’ll go wherever you go.”
After putting them to bed, I broke down, unable to hold back my sobs.
Being my children had brought them nothing but hardship.
Carrying them for ten months had been difficult, even more so because I was blind.
Weston knew the challenges I faced but never accompanied me to a single prenatal appointment.
When he first saw them, his only comment was, “Disgusting.”
Publicly, he refused to acknowledge them as his own.
Even when they called him “Dad,” he scolded them.
They were legitimate children, yet they were treated worse than outsiders
When they asked me if their father would come home, I would make excuse after excuse until even they stopped believing me.
Leaving would free everyone.
Perhaps Weston suddenly remembered his promise to the kids.
Late that night, he came back.
As I was packing his cold hand grabbed my arm.
His voice, sharp and void of emotion, pierced the air.
“What are you doing?”
The scent of alcohol brought back the memory of that night, making my body stiffen.
I kept my voice steady.
“The house is a mess. I’m tidying up.”
The silence stretched, broken only by the chill of the wind that made me shiver.
Then Weston pulled me into his arms, his tone almost pleading.
“Don’t go, Belle.”
He was drunk and had mistaken me for her.
Before I could push him away, he kissed me, invading with
the
ate of whiskey.
His hand trailed from my collarbone down, claiming me in his intoxicated haze.