I Raised My Husband's Love Child...Then He Shot Me

Chapter 39

Yvonne shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe it is."

Jonathan's eyes turned bloodshot. He wanted to strangle her, but he didn't dare.

His father was ecstatic about the pregnancy. If anything happened to the baby now, Jonathan wouldn't have any way to explain himself. Worse, he could never let his father find out that he'd slept with Yvonne.

This child, this child, this child!

He had once desperately wanted a child, but now, the mere thought of one filled him with dread.

In that moment, Jonathan felt nothing but regret. Why did I lose her for the sake of a child?

Neither Wendy nor Yvonne had ever loved him.

The only person who had truly loved him had been driven away by his own actions.

Jonathan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his fingers digging deeply into his temples.

The man staring back at him had dark circles under his eyes, and his jawline looked sharper from the weight he'd lost.

Cold water dripped from his chin, hitting the sink with a faint ticking sound.

"Jonathan, breakfast is ready," came Dean's gravelly voice from downstairs.

Ever since Yvonne's pregnancy, the older man's health had mysteriously improved.

Jonathan mechanically fastened his tie, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed over his Adam's apple.

He stared at his pale face and suddenly remembered last night's dream—the child Yvonne was carrying had his eyes but called him "brother" in Daphne's voice.

A violent shiver ran through him, and his head throbbed even harder.

"The doctor says the baby's doing great," Yvonne said, pushing a glass of warm milk toward Dean at the dining table. Her hand casually brushed over her growing belly. "Next week, we can start checking the baby's heartbeat."

Dean grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Jonathan, go with Yvonne to the appointment, will you?"

Jonathan's fork screeched across the plate.

He looked up, locking eyes with Yvonne, who wore a smug, triumphant expression.

Her eyes… they looked so much like Daphne's, but right now, all he saw was manipulation.

"There's a merger deal I have to handle," he said flatly, dropping his napkin. "I'm leaving."

He practically bolted for the company.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun shone brightly, but Jonathan felt a cold chill wash over him.

He pulled out his phone and, almost without thinking, scrolled to my social media page.

The latest post was a candid shot of Julian's back as he cooked in the kitchen, taken by a friend who'd been there.

In the photo, Julian's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the smooth, strong lines of his forearms.

A pot of soup simmered on the stove, and Pax sat on the counter, looking around curiously.

That warm, homely feeling practically seeped through the screen, stabbing Jonathan in the chest.

It reminded him of when we first got married.

Except back then, I was the one doing the cooking.

He suddenly locked his phone, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, and downed it in one go.

Meanwhile, I was decorating a room with Julian.

"This lisianthus has such a beautiful curve," I said, holding up a pale purple bloom. "Do you think it'd look nice in the entryway vase?"

Julian was arranging some fresh flowers. He looked up and smiled. "It's lovely."

He walked over and gently brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. "But I think a white tulip would look even better."

Pax rolled around under the flower shelf, knocking over a bucket of baby's breath. Little petals clung to its orange fur like stardust.

"You naughty thing," Julian said, crouching down to scratch its chin. Sunlight danced on his lashes as he teased, "You're getting one less fish treat tonight."

I couldn't help but laugh and snapped a photo of the moment.

Julian looked up at me, his gaze soft. When he stood, he naturally wrapped his arms around my waist and planted a gentle kiss on the top of my head.