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

Chapter 9

I stared at Xavier, my heart pounding in my chest.

Had he just spoken?

"Xavier?" I whispered, leaning in closer. "What did you say?"

But as quickly as it had happened, he giggled and babbled, splashing water with his hands. His eyes glazed over again, and his expression went blank, as though the moment had never occurred.

I sighed, the weight of the disappointment settling in. Maybe I'd imagined it. Maybe it was just meaningless babble.

"Forget it," I muttered, shaking my head.

Xavier splashed water at me, giggling and smearing bubbles on his cheeks.

I rolled my eyes. "You're making a mess."

He just grinned, reaching for my wrist, his fingers brushing over the faint scar from my arrow wound. His touch was unexpectedly warm.

For a moment, his brows furrowed, and his eyes flickered with something—something I couldn't quite place. But then, as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed.

Xavier giggled again and returned to splashing in the water.

I must've imagined it. I pushed the feeling aside, shaking my head. "Let's get you dressed."

After a quick shower to wash away the ink stains and the lingering tension, I dressed in fresh clothes and helped Xavier out of the bathtub. His body was limp, but he allowed me to do everything without protest.

Once he was dressed, I wheeled him into the hallway. The butler was waiting, a nervous look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my brows furrowing.

The butler quickly shook his head. "Nothing, Madam. I was just… concerned if you could manage with Master Xavier."

I glanced at Xavier, who was playing with the buttons on his shirt. "We're fine."

The butler seemed relieved, but his gaze lingered on Xavier for a moment too long, his expression unreadable.

I brushed my hair back and exhaled. "Take him out to the garden. I'll make us something to eat."

The butler hesitated. "Madam, the maids—"

"I want to do it myself," I interrupted firmly.

"As you wish," he replied, bowing slightly.

The kitchen was quiet, except for the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board. I focused on chopping vegetables, letting the repetitive motion soothe my nerves. One slice. Two slices. Three slices.

For the first time since this marriage began, I had a moment to breathe.

Then my phone vibrated on the counter.

I wiped my hands on a towel and picked it up.

A Facebook message.

My stomach churned when I saw who it was from.

Susan.

I hesitated before opening it.

Images of Michael and Susan's engagement party flooded the screen. Michael, looking as handsome as ever in a perfectly tailored suit, had his arm around Susan's waist. She wore a stunning dress, her smile radiant. A perfect couple. A perfect celebration.

Then came the message.

Susan: "How does it feel to know you were with Michael for eight years and he refused to marry you, but barely a week after you left, he's engaged to me?"

My teeth clenched.

Of course she would rub it in.

I should've ignored it. Blocked her.

But I didn't.

Instead, I quickly typed a reply.

Rachel: "Congratulations."

Then, without another word, I muted her messages.

I wasn't going to block her. No. That would be too easy. I wanted her to see every success, every moment of happiness that followed. I wanted her to choke on her own jealousy.

I put my phone down and took a deep breath. Focus.

I finished cooking, plated the food, and went outside to find Xavier and the butler.

That's when I heard it.

Low voices.

I froze, straining to listen.

I took a careful step forward, pressing myself against the wall.

The butler's voice was the first I recognized.

I edged closer, trying to peek through the hedge, but before I could take another step, the doorbell rang.

The sudden sound made me jump.

The voices in the garden abruptly stopped.

I turned toward the entrance, my pulse quickening.

I cast one last glance at the hedge, but I saw no one.

Something didn't feel right.