My Husband’s Heir Cost Him His Own Daughter Chapter 06

My Husband’s Heir Cost Him His Own Daughter Chapter 06

That night, Carter did not come to our room.

In the middle of the night, a cramp seized my thigh, so violent it curled my body into a knot. Cold sweat soaked my pajamas.

Fighting through the pain, I grabbed my phone and called him.

The papers were signed, but in the terrifying emptiness of this estate, he was still the person I instinctively reached for.

The call connected. “Carter,” I managed to say, my voice trembling, “my leg is cramping. Can you—”

Before I could finish, a woman’s lazy voice purred from the other end.

Savannah.

“Carter…”

“Shh, keep it down, Savannah.” It was Carter’s voice, low and full of the indulgence I knew so well. “You’ll wake the baby.”

“Okay…”

I lay frozen in my bed.

The pain in my leg pulsed in waves, but it was nothing compared to the blow that landed on my chest.

Through the phone, I could hear their soft breaths, the rustle of sheets.

Every sound was a fresh wound, a reminder of one simple fact.

He was not in my bed.

He was in hers.

I stared at the ornate ceiling, my mind flashing back to when I first found out I was pregnant.

My constitution has never been strong. The first trimester was brutal, filled with morning sickness. The slightest movement from me and Carter would be at my side, supporting me, rubbing my back, his face a mask of concern.

“Amelia, if I had known it was this hard, I would never have wanted children.”

In the third trimester, the leg cramps started, so painful they’d wake me from a dead sleep. He would sit up without a word and massage my calf until the knot released.

For eight months, he had been my rock.

But tonight, he wasn’t here.

“Carter, I’m so happy,” Savannah’s voice came again, thick with tears but laced with triumph. “I can finally be with you, out in the open. Even if it’s only for a month of marriage, I’m satisfied.”

“I’m the one who wronged you,” Carter said, his voice low. “I’ll take care of you and our son from now on.”

“Carter, I love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The sounds from the phone continued.

But the pain in my leg began to subside.

As if all my strength had been drained away, I sank back against the cold sheets and stared into the darkness.

I had to admit it.

I had lost.

Completely and utterly.

But I was also grateful. Before I drowned completely, I was finally seeing things clearly.

After that night, Carter and Savannah stopped pretending.

They kissed in the dining room in front of the servants.

They held each other on the living room sofa.

Savannah even began redecorating, changing the flowers and ornaments to suit her own tastes.

I had no reaction.

I was just counting the days.

Counting down until Jerry filed the final papers, until the judge’s signature made it official.

I quietly opened my laptop and booked a one-way ticket to Boston.

Carter knew nothing.

He was still living in his fantasy, believing I had accepted my role in his grand plan.

I thought I could just hold on, just wait until the day I could walk away.

But Savannah wasn’t going to let me leave quietly.

The night before the annual charity polo match, I was taking a walk in the estate’s rose garden.

I held a volume of Yeats, reading softly to the child in my belly.

It was a rare moment of peace.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow was the polo match. It would be my last public appearance in this world.

After that, none of it would have anything to do with me.

But Savannah found me.

Holding her son, she stopped in front of me, her timing as deliberate as ever.

“Amelia. You seem to be in a good mood.” She raised a hand to stroke the baby’s cheek, making sure I saw the Graff diamond bracelet on her wrist. “About to be divorced, and you can still be this relaxed?”

I ignored her and kept my eyes on my book.

She laughed.

“You know, I answered your call that night on purpose. I wanted you to hear how good Carter and I are. He loves me. He told me he just can’t say no to me. As for you—”

She paused, her eyes locking onto mine. “He said you’re like a block of ice he brought down from Boston. Cold. Boring.”

She took a step closer, her posture radiating victory.

“And tomorrow’s the charity polo match. You’ll be there, won’t you? After all, you’re about to be the ex-wife.”