He Wanted an Heir, So I Gave Him Ashes Chapter 05

He Wanted an Heir, So I Gave Him Ashes Chapter 05

He wanted me to be a “rational, generous woman.”

So I was.

I thought that would be the end of it. Until the barbecue.

Rhett Walker personally tore away the last shred of decency.

His care for Daisy had never stopped. It had just gone underground.

And they had kept the child.

The last fragile thing inside me shattered.

I would never shed another tear for Rhett Walker.

Before leaving the study, I printed the Asset Stripping and Forced Sale Agreement, disguised as a simple trust document. The printer hummed, each page it spat out a declaration of cold resolve.

Only then did I return to the main house.

Rhett was gone, of course. Probably at Daisy’s.

The house was quiet, but a new addition sat conspicuously in the center of the living room: a gorgeous custom saddle, the leather gleaming under the lights. On the side, two letters were embroidered in silver thread.

W.B.

Walker’s Boy.

The old butler approached, his face a mask of awkward appeasement.

“Madam, a surprise from Mr. Walker,” he explained carefully. “He said… it was a gift for the future young master. He thought you’d be happy to see it.”

A year ago, I would have smiled and found the perfect place to display it.

Now, the surprise felt like a slap.

Just then, my phone vibrated. An Instagram notification.

I tapped it open. The screen showed a photo Daisy had just posted from the barbecue.

In the picture, Rhett was almost unrecognizable. He wasn’t the taut, controlled CEO I knew. He was wearing a cowboy hat and smiling with the easy grin of a ranch hand, holding an infant who was his spitting image.

Behind them was the private lake on the Walker ranch, a place we had walked together countless times.

Daisy had said she was living the life of “Mrs. Walker.”

She wasn’t exaggerating.

A mutual acquaintance quickly commented below the photo.

*Rhett, you and your wife look so happy. The little cowboy is adorable.*

The comment was deleted seconds later.

The commenter must have realized their mistake.

I stared at the blank space where the words had been, my hand tightening around the stack of documents until the paper grew damp with sweat.

When we were first married, I loved documenting our life.

Holidays, anniversaries, a quiet afternoon—I’d post photos of Rhett and me on social media.

But Rhett told me that as the head of one of the oldest families in Texas, he couldn’t expose his private life. It would affect his professional image.

So I deleted all the photos and never posted again.

But now, with Daisy behind the lens and the Walker’s Boy he’d always dreamed of in the frame, he clearly didn’t mind at all.