Sluice. App Store research for builders.

Verborgene Gefühle

Started 8h ago

"Sign here," Aurora said, sliding the folder across the desk. "Rosalind's camp forms." Jasper didn't look up. Just grabbed the pen. "You can't even handle paperwork? What do I keep you for?" Three signatures. Done. He tossed the pen. "How was the checkup?" Aurora pulled the folder back. There is no checkup. There is no baby. Hasn't been since that gurney hit me in the hospital lobby. While you built a snowman with HER. While my daughter called HER "Mama." You never even noticed I was gone for three days. She smiled. "Fine. Everything's fine." Jasper frowned. "Then why do you look like death?" Because I'm holding the divorce papers you just signed. Because you just ended our marriage without even reading. "Just tired." He waved a hand, already turned back to his screen. "Go rest. Stop being so dramatic. It's exhausting." Aurora walked out. The front door closed behind her. Cold air. Silence. Then her phone buzzed. Unknown: Aurora. The black car to your left. Get in. She looked up. A black limousine. Tinted windows. One of them rolled down slowly. Grey eyes. Broad shoulders. Chiseled jaw. He didn't smile. He just looked at her—like he'd been waiting a long time for this moment. Unknown: Phineas Everett. Jasper's uncle. "Get in, Aurora." His voice was low, somehow vibrating straight to her core. "You're done with him." *** ***** Chapter 1: The Day I Lost Everything (Aurora's POV) "Mrs. Everett, I'm very sorry. We couldn't save the baby." The words floated above me, disembodied and distant, like they belonged to someone else's nightmare. I lay motionless on the hospital bed, my body still numb from the anesthesia. The doctor's voice droned on, explaining procedures and recovery timelines, but I couldn't focus. The words "couldn't save" echoed in my skull, bouncing off the walls of my consciousness like a ricocheting bullet. Each repetition carved a deeper wound. I stared at the white ceiling tiles above me-counting them, one by one, because if I stopped counting, I'd have to face what had just happened. One, two, three... My vision blurred. Four, five... Were those tears or was the ceiling actually melting? Six, seven... I blinked hard. The tiles came back into focus, but the ache in my chest only intensified. It wasn't until this moment-lying here, empty and broken-that the truth crashed over me like a tidal wave I'd been too blind to see coming. Jasper had never loved me. Not me. Never me. His heart had always belonged to Sienna. His late brother's widow. The woman I'd foolishly thought I could compete with, that I could somehow eclipse through sheer devotion and patience. God, I'd been so stupid. Today was supposed to be my first prenatal checkup. The appointment I'd circled on the calendar in red marker three weeks ago, the one I'd reminded him about every single day. Jasper had looked me directly in the eyes last night, his hand briefly touching mine across the dinner table-a gesture so rare it had made my heart flutter stupidly, pathetically-and he'd promised. "I'll be there tomorrow, Aurora. I won't miss it." I'd believed him. Again. How many times could one person be this naive? I'd sat in the hospital lobby that morning, my phone clutched in my trembling hand like a lifeline. The waiting room had been filled with other expectant mothers, their faces glowing with anticipation, their partners sitting protectively beside them. I'd watched them, feeling a sick, twisting envy in my gut that I hated myself for. I'd called Jasper fourteen times. I counted each one. The first call, I'd been hopeful. Maybe he was just running late. By the fifth call, my palms were sweating. Traffic, I told myself. There must be terrible traffic. By the tenth call, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. The other couples in the waiting room had started glancing at me with pity in their eyes-that awful, knowing look that said they understood exactly what was happening. By the fourteenth call, I'd stopped hoping. I just kept dialing because I didn't know what else to do. No answer. Not once. Then I'd heard the commotion in the corridor-urgent voices, the screech of rubber wheels on linoleum. I'd looked up just in time to see the emergency gurney hurtling toward me, pushed by frantic orderlies. I didn't have time to move. The impact had sent me flying backward. My body hit the cold tile floor with a sickening crack that I felt through every bone. The phone skittered from my hand, sliding across the polished floor and coming to rest several feet away, its screen still glowing with Jasper's unanswered call. Pain. Immediate, white-hot, all-consuming pain exploded through my abdomen. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced-a tearing sensation, as if something vital inside me was being ripped apart. I'd tried to scream, but the air had been knocked from my lungs. All that came out was a strangled gasp. I lay there, crumpled on the floor, one hand instinctively clutching my stomach. My vision swam. The fluorescent lights above me blurred into halos. Somewhere far away, someone was shouting for help. I tried to reach for my phone, but my arm wouldn't obey. Through the haze of pain, my phone screen suddenly illuminated. The FaceTime call connected. For one delirious moment, relief flooded through me. He'd called back. Finally, he'd called back. Maybe he was worried. Maybe he'd realized something was wrong. But then I heard the laughter. Not his laughter-hers. Rosalind's high-pitched, delighted giggle. "Daddy! Mama Sienna! Look at the snowman!" The background noise resolved itself into the unmistakable sounds of a ski resort: the crunch of snow, distant music, the cheerful chatter of other vacationers. Through my phone screen, I could see pristine white slopes stretching behind them, bathed in golden afternoon sunlight. They were in Aspen. Building a snowman. All three of them. My daughter. My husband. And her. The betrayal hit me harder than the gurney had. It hollowed me out from the inside, leaving nothing but a gaping wound where my heart used to be. "What is it, Aurora?" Jasper's voice cut through the phone, sharp with irritation. I could see his face now on the screen-handsome, cold, annoyed at being interrupted. "What's so urgent?" I tried to speak. I tried to tell him that I was hurt, that I was bleeding, that something was terribly, catastrophically wrong. My lips moved, forming words that my voice couldn't produce. All that escaped was a pitiful, broken moan. Then I heard another voice. Soft, feminine, dripping with false sweetness. "Is that Aurora calling?" Sienna's voice was like honey laced with poison. I couldn't see her face, but I could imagine her perfectly-delicate features arranged in an expression of practiced concern, her hand probably resting on Jasper's arm in that proprietary way she had. "Mom's so annoying." Rosalind's voice came through clearly, petulant and dismissive. My own daughter. My flesh and blood. "Daddy, hang up! I want to take a picture with Mama Sienna!" Mama Sienna. The words stabbed through me like broken glass. My daughter-the child I'd carried for nine months, the baby I'd nursed through every midnight crying fit, the little girl I'd read bedtime stories to every single night-was calling another woman Mama. When had that happened? When had I lost her too? Jasper didn't even look at the screen. He was watching Rosalind and Sienna, smiling at them with a warmth he never showed me. "Whatever it is can wait until I get back," he said dismissively, his tone making it clear that I was nothing more than an inconvenient interruption to his perfect family vacation. The call ended. The pain in my abdomen suddenly intensified, becoming unbearable. My vision tunneled, darkness creeping in from the edges. The last thing I saw before unconsciousness claimed me was the phone screen, dark and silent. Then nothing. --- "Are you all right, Mrs. Everett?" The doctor, seeing that I didn't respond, leaned in to examine me. "I'm fine, I'm okay-please continue speaking." I closed my eyes wearily. "I'm very sorry, ma'am," he said. "The fall caused a miscarriage. We did everything we could." We did everything we could.Standard medical protocol. I didn't cry. I physically couldn't. It was as if all my tears had frozen inside me, turning to ice in my veins. The grief was too big, too overwhelming to express through something as simple as crying. The room was empty except for the doctor and a nurse hovering near the door. No family. No husband. No daughter. I didn't call my mother. The thought crossed my mind briefly, but I dismissed it just as quickly. I knew exactly what Martha would say. She'd find a way to make this my fault. "What did you do wrong, Aurora? Wives don't lose their husbands' attention for no reason. You must have failed him somehow. You should have tried harder. Been prettier. More accommodating. Less needy." I could hear her voice so clearly in my head that it was as if she was actually standing in the room. Years of her criticism had etched her words into my psyche, a constant voice of doubt and self-blame. The doctor cleared his throat, pulling me back to the present. "You'll need significant rest and recovery," he said, his tone gentler now. "I must warn you-another pregnancy may be very difficult after this. The damage to your uterus was... extensive." After he left, the tears finally came. They poured out of me in silent, shaking sobs that wracked my entire body. I pressed my face into the thin hospital pillow, muffling the sounds, because even now-even in my darkest moment-I couldn't allow myself to be too loud, too much, too inconvenient. This baby had been Rosalind's idea. She'd begged for a little brother or sister, her eyes wide and earnest. "Please, Mommy? Please? I promise I'll help take care of them!" And Jasper had agreed, saying it would "complete the family." Complete the family. What a cruel joke that had turned out to be. --- I discharged myself three days later. Three days I'd spent in that hospital room, alone except for the nurses who came in at regular intervals to check my vitals. No visitors. No flowers. No get-well cards. Just me and the stark white walls and the relentless beeping of machines. No one came to pick me up. Of course they didn't. I signed the discharge papers alone, my hand shaking slightly as I scrawled my signature. I paid the bills alone, watching my savings account dip dangerously low. I called an Uber alone, standing outside the hospital entrance with my small overnight bag, watching happy families come and go. As I waited for my ride, I made myself a promise. Standing there in the cold January air, my body still aching, my heart still broken, I swore to myself: I would never let myself become this pathetic again. Never again would I wait by the phone for a man who wouldn't call. Never again would I believe promises that meant nothing. Never again would I mistake indifference for love. The Uber was halfway to the Everett estate when my phone buzzed. A video had been posted to the Everett family iMessage group. Chapter 2: No Wonder Daughter Doesn't Like You (Aurora's POV) The video showed Aspen's snow-covered mountains in the background, picture-perfect and postcard-pretty. Rosalind stood between Jasper and Sienna, bundled in an expensive pink ski jacket I didn't recognize. She was holding a half-eaten gelato cone, her face bright with happiness. "Try it, Mama Sienna!" my daughter chirped, holding the cone up to Sienna's mouth. Sienna took a delicate bite, laughing-that light, tinkling laugh that had charmed Jasper's entire family. Then she turned to Jasper, her eyes sparkling with something I recognized all too well. Something that looked dangerously close to love. "Want some?" I watched, frozen, as Jasper leaned down without hesitation and bit into the gelato exactly where Sienna had just bitten. My stomach turned violently. Jasper had always been obsessive about boundaries. He'd never shared food with me. Never used my utensils. Never drank from my glass. "It's unhygienic," he'd said once, pulling away when I'd offered him a bite of my dessert. But now he was sharing ice cream with Sienna, in front of our daughter, without a moment's hesitation. The intimacy of it was staggering. It wasn't just about the food. It was the way he looked at her-soft, warm, present in a way he never was with me. It was the way she smiled at him, confident in her place by his side. It was the way Rosalind beamed at both of them, her face radiating pure joy. They looked like a real family. And I was the outsider looking in. "I'm posting this to Instagram," Sienna announced, her voice bright with laughter. The video disappeared seconds later. A message appeared in the group chat: "What was that? It disappeared before I could watch." Victoria, Jasper's mother. Then Rosalind's reply: "Oops, wrong group chat!" They had another group. One without me. A private family group where I didn't exist. Where they could share their moments and their laughter and their gelato without my inconvenient presence. I stared at my phone, my hands trembling so violently that the screen blurred. The pain in my chest was so acute I couldn't breathe. It felt like my ribcage was collapsing inward, crushing my heart and lungs until there was nothing left but hollow emptiness. I didn't go straight home. I first went to a law office downtown and met with a lawyer-but that lawyer named Tom did not satisfy me. The way he looked at me made it feel as though I were some idle, parasitic wife trying to use a divorce to extort a fortune from a wealthy husband. Then, finally, I returned to the Everett estate. I'd been gone for three days. No one had called to ask where I was. The house was exactly as I'd left it-grand, cold, imposing. A monument to old money and older traditions. Victoria sat in the drawing room when I entered, perfectly coiffed and dressed in an expensive silk blouse, sipping red wine from a crystal glass. She looked up as I walked in, her eyes sweeping over me with thinly veiled disapproval. She didn't ask if I was all right. Didn't ask where I'd been. Didn't notice-or chose not to notice-that I was moving carefully, still recovering from physical trauma. "You've been absent for three days," she said coldly, setting down her wine glass with a sharp clink. "Do you have any idea how that looks? The guests at my luncheon yesterday were asking about you. Mrs. Hartford specifically mentioned how odd it was that the lady of the house was nowhere to be found. You've neglected your duties." Your duties. As if I was a servant. An employee who'd failed to show up for work. I said nothing. What was there to say? That I'd been in the hospital losing my baby? That her son had been too busy playing house with another woman to care? Victoria wouldn't care. She'd find a way to make it my fault anyway. That evening, Jasper finally returned from Aspen. I heard him before I saw him-his voice in the foyer, laughing about something, his footsteps confident and unhurried. He walked through the front door like a king returning to his castle, shrugging off his expensive wool coat. He tossed it at me without even looking. I caught it reflexively, the heavy fabric landing in my arms. "Deal with the luggage," he ordered, his tone casual, distracted. "Everything needs to be unpacked and the ski clothes need to be cleaned." He walked past me toward the stairs, scrolling through his phone, not sparing me a single glance. Then he paused, as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, right." He looked up briefly, his expression mildly curious. "How did the checkup go?" How did the checkup go. Something inside me shattered. It wasn't dramatic. It didn't make a sound. But I felt it break-that last fragile thread that had been holding me together, holding me to this marriage, holding me to the delusion that maybe, somehow, things could get better. It snapped. My vision went red. Blood roared in my ears. My hands clenched into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. "Jasper!" The scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. Raw. Anguished. Furious. "Because you weren't there, the baby is gone! Do you understand? The baby is gone! You'll never have a second child!" He stopped. Turned. Frowned at me like I was a stranger who'd started screaming at him on the street. "What are you talking about?" His tone was sharp, annoyed, as if I was being unreasonable. "Stop being hysterical." "You're always like this," he continued, his expression hardening with contempt. "Dramatic. Irrational. Emotional. No wonder Rosalind doesn't like being around you. Look at yourself. You're a mess." I stared at him. Really looked at him, perhaps for the first time in years. This man I'd loved since college. This man I'd given up my career for, my friends for, my entire identity for. He felt nothing for me. Absolutely nothing. I was less than a stranger to him. I was an inconvenience. An obligation. A burden he tolerated because society expected him to have a wife. "Is that so?" My voice came out eerily calm, detached, as if it belonged to someone else. "Does Rosalind only like that woman? The one who couldn't wait for her husband's body to get cold before seducing his brother? Does she like 'Mama Sienna' better?" Jasper's face darkened instantly, fury flooding his features. "How dare you," he hissed, taking a step toward me, his voice low and dangerous. "Sienna just lost her husband. She's grieving. She's vulnerable. And you're jealous of a widow? You're cold-blooded, Aurora. Absolutely heartless. I can't believe I married someone so cruel." He turned on his heel, heading toward the dining room. "Think about what you've said," he threw over his shoulder. "And fix that attitude before Rosalind sees you like this." The door slammed shut behind him. I stood alone in the foyer, his coat still in my hands, the sound of that slammed door echoing through the empty house. A single tear slid down my cheek. Then another. I wiped them away roughly, anger replacing the grief. I was done crying over this man. I was done begging for scraps of affection. I was done pretending that this marriage was anything other than a prison. I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and scrolled through my contacts until I found Olivia's name. My best friend. The only person who'd told me from the beginning that marrying Jasper was a mistake. She answered on the second ring. "Rory? What's wrong? You sound-" My voice shook, but my resolve was absolute. "Liv," I said quietly, each word deliberate, final. "Do you know any good divorce lawyers?" Chapter 3: Substitutes Chapter 3: Substitutes (Aurora's POV) Jasper didn't come home last night. Neither did Rosalind. After her husband's death, Sienna had claimed that staying at the Everett estate brought back too many painful memories, so she'd moved into a luxury penthouse downtown. Where Jasper and Rosalind had spent the night, I didn't need to guess. I packed the important documents into my handbag, straightened my coat, and opened the door. Victoria was already in the sitting room. She sat on the sofa with a cup of red tea, one leg crossed over the other, her expression carrying that particular brand of contempt she reserved exclusively for me. "Up so early?" She took a slow sip, watching me over the rim of her cup. "I assumed you'd spend the morning in bed playing the tragic heroine." I had spent years stopping in my tracks whenever she spoke, lowering my eyes, waiting for the lecture to end. Years of absorbing her disapproval because I knew what she thought-that I was a housekeeper's daughter, common and unworthy, nothing compared to the elegant Sienna Rathbone who could have brought the family actual glory. Not this morning. I adjusted my collar and gave her a sideways glance, my tone easy. "Morning, Victoria. Lovely mood you're in, as always." I didn't break my stride toward the door. "Someone in this house has to actually do something useful. Can't all of us just sit around drinking tea and judging people, can we?" I rushed into the study before she could respond. I still had a document left there. I pushed the door open. The other private safe in the corner of the wall intrigued me-I seemed never to have been allowed to open it. What could be inside? I tried Jasper's birthday first. Red light. Then Rosalind's. Red light again. I stared at the keypad for a moment, then typed in Sienna's birthday. A soft beep. The door swung open. I almost laughed. Almost. Then I saw what was inside, and the urge to laugh died completely. Photographs. Dozens of them, organized with a care I'd never seen Jasper apply to anything involving me. Sienna sleeping, her face relaxed and unguarded. Sienna reading in the garden, her hair catching the afternoon light. Sienna laughing with a small dog tucked under her arm. Every single one had been taken without her knowledge. I turned one over. On the back, in Jasper's bold, angular handwriting: *The love of my life.* I turned over another. Same handwriting. *The love of my life.* Then I found one near the bottom of the stack. I flipped it over. *I got married. She looks like you.* He'd always insisted I keep my hair a certain shade. Whenever I'd let it fade, he'd already booked the stylist to come to the house before I'd thought to mention it. I'd taken it as attentiveness. A rare, small sign that he noticed me. He'd been coloring me in to match her. I stood there in his study, breathing through the nausea, and understood with absolute clarity what I had been for the last several years. Not a wife. Not even a person, really. A prop. A stand-in. A pale imitation of the woman he actually wanted. I pulled out my phone and photographed every piece of evidence methodically. Then I closed the safe, wiped the keypad clean, and left the room exactly as I'd found it. The Sterling Law Group occupied the top three floors of a glass tower downtown. The reception area was all clean lines and expensive silence. A polished young woman at the front desk told me that the attorney Olivia had booked for me, Linda, was still in a meeting and would I mind waiting? I didn't mind. I sat down and opened a novel on my phone. A few minutes later, the automatic glass doors slid open. I had the distinct sense of being watched, and I glanced up-but I only caught a man's back as the receptionist led him through a side corridor. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a bespoke suit that fit him with the kind of precision that didn't come from off a rack. The fabric had a quiet, expensive sheen under the office lights. He didn't look at me. I looked back down at my phone. Ten minutes later, the receptionist came over with a small apologetic smile. "Ms. Higgins, I'm so sorry-Linda is going to be a while longer. But our senior partner, Mr. Gavin Sterling, has a window right now and would be happy to see you instead, if that works?" I accepted immediately. Gavin Sterling looked exactly like what he was-a man who'd never lost a case and knew it. Tall, rimless glasses, a smile that was charming in a slightly detached way. He gestured for me to sit across from his desk and listened without interrupting as I laid out the marriage, the miscarriage, the ski trip, the group chat, the safe. I showed him the photographs on my phone. He pushed his glasses up and studied them. Then he leaned back in his chair and gave me the kind of look that meant he was about to say something I didn't want to hear. "Legally speaking, this falls under emotional infidelity at best." His tone was measured, not unkind. "It's damaging. It's morally reprehensible. But it's going to be very difficult to have it recognized as material fault in court." "I understand." "Then let me ask you something more important." He folded his hands on the desk and looked at me directly. "Do you want full custody of your daughter?" Rosalind's face surfaced in my mind-not the bright, laughing face from that Aspen video, but the way she'd looked at me last week. Flat. Irritated. Like I was a stranger who'd wandered into a room she was using. "I haven't decided yet," I said. Gavin nodded slowly, no judgment in his expression. "I'll prepare two versions of the divorce agreement. One that includes a custody claim, one that doesn't. You can decide which direction you want to go when you're ready." I thanked him and stood to leave. (Author's POV) What Aurora didn't know was that the moment she stepped into the elevator, a door at the back of Gavin's office opened. Phineas Everett walked in from the adjoining room, hands in his pockets, and moved to stand at the floor-to-ceiling window. Below, a slight figure in a dark coat emerged from the building's entrance and disappeared into the flow of traffic. Gavin watched him from behind his desk. "Phineas." There was a note of amusement in his voice. "She's your nephew's wife. Steering Jasper's wife toward a divorce lawyer-is that really appropriate?" The reply was the man's tall, silent back. (Aurora's POV) Rosalind was sitting on the living room carpet when I got back, holding a teddy bear with one arm torn clean off at the seam. Something in me moved automatically. I walked over and crouched down. "Give it here, Rosalind. Mom will sew it back." Rosalind looked at me, then at the bear, then stood up and dropped it straight into the wastepaper basket beside the sofa. She lifted her chin with an expression of supreme authority that looked wrong on a child her age. "Mama Sienna says we replace things. We don't fix them like poor people." She brushed her hands together as if disposing of something unpleasant. "Since you're so keen on doing that kind of work, why don't you go wash all the stuffed animals in my room?" I looked at her. My daughter. My face in miniature. "Go ask your Mama Sienna to wash them," I said, keeping my voice even. Rosalind's eyes went wide with genuine outrage. "Mama Sienna's hands are for playing piano and painting. She's an artist. She doesn't do that kind of thing." "And what am I?" The words came out before I could stop them. "What do you think I am, Rosalind? Your maid?" "What on earth is going on?" Victoria's voice cut across the room as she swept in from the hallway, her heels sharp on the hardwood. She took one look at the scene and her face arranged itself into familiar disapproval. "Aurora, what is wrong with you? Making a scene in front of the child?" She pulled Rosalind against her side, rubbing the girl's shoulder. "Don't pay any attention to her, sweetheart. Your mama's just being difficult today." Rosalind tucked herself against her grandmother and looked at me with an expression of total vindication. I stood there and looked at both of them-the grandmother and the granddaughter, one teaching and one learning, both already so certain of my place in this house. I turned and walked upstairs. Rosalind has been completely poisoned by the Everett family's upbringing, and if I forcibly take custody of her, it will only make her hate me even more. Perhaps I need to become stronger in order to regain my daughter's respect. After dinner, I took the divorce papers out of my bag, slipped them into Rosalind's summer camp file, tidied it up, and then knocked on Jasper's study door. He was at his desk. He looked up, mildly impatient. "Rosalind's enrollment waiver for next semester and her summer camp application." I kept my voice neutral, sliding the folder across his desk. "The school's been asking for a parent signature." He picked up his pen. I watched him flip through the first page, then the second. He was being unusually thorough tonight. My heartbeat climbed into my throat. He turned to the third page. One more page after this. "Jasper." I interrupted his action. "There's actually something else I wanted to discuss." Chapter 4: She Will Come Back Begging Me Chapter 4: She Will Come Back Begging Me (Aurora's POV) He looked up. "What is it?" "I think we should-" His phone rang. His assistant's name lit up the screen. He held up one finger and answered, already pressing his fingers to his temple as the voice on the other end escalated into obvious crisis. He snapped back at whoever it was, his attention entirely consumed. With his eyes on the middle distance, he flipped to the bottom of the stack and signed quickly at the flagged lines. Three signatures. Then he dropped the pen. I watched Jasper Everett sign his name to the divorce agreement in the same distracted motion he used to sign expense reports. I reached across and pulled the folder back. He hung up. "What were you going to say?" "Nothing. I just remembered-it's already sorted." I smiled and tucked the folder under my arm. He leaned forward slightly, and before I could step back, he tilted his head toward my neck and inhaled. His hand came up and brushed my cheek. His throat moved. I stepped back immediately, putting distance between us. He blinked, then pulled back himself, his expression shifting to something closer to irritation. "Aurora, you're pregnant. Stop wearing so much perfume. It's not good for the baby." I looked at him for a moment. I didn't tell him it was just shower gel. I didn't tell him there was no baby anymore. I looked down at the folder in my hands, at the signature that had just ended four years of my life, and felt something loosen in my chest-a knot I'd been carrying so long I'd forgotten it wasn't supposed to be there. "Of course," I said pleasantly. "I'll be more careful. Don't worry-I won't let anything happen to your precious heir." --- I was drifting into a heavy, uneasy sleep when the bedroom door creaked open. The mattress dipped. A man's hand slid under the duvet, cold against the warmth of my skin. It moved up my back, presumptuous and familiar. I sat up instantly, clutching the sheets to my chest. Jasper sat on the edge of the bed. He was wearing a dark silk robe, the belt loosely tied. He looked at me with a heavy-lidded, suggestive gaze. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, his voice low. "Then I'll come back. We can sleep together tonight." Bile rose in my throat. I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. "Jasper," I managed to say, my voice trembling with suppressed disgust. "I need to rest. Please go sleep in the Guest Wing." A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. He stopped untying his robe. "Excuse me?" Ever since I announced the pregnancy, he had insisted on separate rooms. He claimed he didn't want to disturb me or the baby. I knew the truth. He just didn't want to look at me. He was mourning his brother, pining for his sister-in-law, and I was just an inconvenience. Tonight, he was just looking for a release. "I am very sure," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Get out." Jasper let out a cold laugh. He shrugged, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. "Suit yourself. Don't regret it later." He stood up and walked out, not looking back. As the door clicked shut, I grabbed the pillow and hurled it at the wood. It hit with a dull thud. I got out of bed and poured myself a glass of water. My hands were shaking. I took a slow sip. Just a few more hours. This nightmare was almost over. The next morning, I was jolted awake by rough hands shaking my shoulders. "Wake up!" Rosalind stood by the bed, hands on her hips. Her face was twisted in a scowl. "I want Blueberry Crepes," she demanded. "Make them now. Or I'm not going to that stupid kindergarten." I rubbed my throbbing temples. "I'm not feeling well, Rosalind," I said, my voice hoarse. "Ask Mrs. Potts or the chef to make them for you." She let out a piercing scream. She threw herself onto the carpet, kicking and thrashing. "No! I want you to do it! You're lazy!" The door flew open. Victoria marched in, dressed in a pristine high-fashion suit. She took one look at the scene and stormed over to me. She got right in my face. "Look at this," she hissed. "You are absolutely classless. You can't even manage a simple bonding activity with your daughter? You use this pregnancy as an excuse for everything." Rosalind sat up, tears streaming down her face. "I don't want her to be my Mom!" she wailed. My head felt like it was splitting open. I looked at the little girl who looked so much like me but acted exactly like them. "Fine," I said, a cold smile touching my lips. "Since you love your Mama Sienna so much, and you have that special iMessage group with her and your father, why don't you ask her to be your mother?" Victoria's eyes widened. She stepped forward and slapped me across the face. The sound cracked through the room. My cheek burned instantly. "What is going on here?" Jasper appeared in the doorway. He was in his workout gear, sweat glistening on his forehead. Rosalind scrambled up and wrapped her arms around his leg. "Daddy! She's being mean!" Victoria pointed a manicured finger at me. "This woman is out of control, Jasper. She is disrespecting my mother and refusing to care for her child. You need to handle her." I stared at Jasper. I waited. He looked at the bright red handprint on my cheek. He didn't blink. He frowned, looking annoyed rather than concerned. "Aurora," he said flatly. "She is my mother. You should learn some respect." The last thread of hope snapped. I walked up to him. I stood so close I could smell his expensive cologne mixed with sweat. "She hit me, Jasper," I said, my voice ice-cold. "I don't care if she's your mother or the Queen of England. The moment violence starts, respect ends." I drew back my hand and slapped him. It was hard. My palm stung. The room went deadly silent. Victoria gasped, covering her mouth. "How dare you!" Victoria shrieked. "You touched my son!" I straightened my spine. I looked Jasper dead in the eye. "You're her son," I said. "You can take the punishment for her." I slapped him again. "That settles it. We're even." Jasper's face was turning red, his eyes bulging with rage. "Jasper, we are finished," I said. "Now, all of you, get the hell out of my room." I shoved Victoria toward the door. I pushed Jasper. He stumbled back, clutching his face, too shocked by my words to react physically. "Get out!" I slammed the door in their faces and locked it. Silence returned. I pulled my suitcase from the closet. I realized I didn't have much to pack. Years in this house, and my life fit into a single carry-on. I took the envelope from my drawer. Inside were the medical records confirming the miscarriage and the signed divorce agreement. I placed it under the lamp on the nightstand. I took my bag and unlocked the door. As I walked down the hallway, I heard a voice from the study. Sienna. The door was ajar. I stopped. Through the crack, I saw Sienna in a form-fitting silk dress. She held an ice pack to Jasper's cheek. "She hit you so hard," she cooed. "Does it hurt?" She shifted, and her heel seemed to slip. Jasper's arm shot out. He caught her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. The air in the room charged with electricity. Jasper stared at her for a second, then crashed his lips onto hers. It wasn't gentle. It was desperate. He kissed her neck, burying his face in her skin. His hands roamed over her body. I watched as his hand moved to her back. *Zzzzp.* The zipper of her dress slid down. The silk fell away, exposing her breast. Sienna gasped. She pushed against his chest, but her resistance was feeble. "Jasper, stop... your brother..." "He's gone," Jasper muttered against her skin. I pulled out my phone. I recorded ten seconds of it. The kiss. The zipper. The exposure. Sienna looked up and saw me through the crack in the door. Panic flashed in her eyes. She pulled her dress up, stumbling back. I stopped recording and put the phone in my pocket. Jasper stepped out of the study a moment later. Sienna trailed behind him, looking flustered. He saw my suitcase. He saw my coat. He didn't look worried. He looked amused. There was a smudge of Sienna's lipstick on his mouth. "What?" he sneered. "You slap me and now you're running away?" I gripped the handle of my suitcase. "Think whatever you want," I said. "You are truly stupid and arrogant." I turned toward the stairs. "Jasper," Sienna whispered loudly, feigning concern. "Maybe you should stop her? She is pregnant, after all." Jasper let out a scoff. "No need," he said loud enough for me to hear. "She gave up everything to marry me. No job. No money. She can't survive a week without the Everett name." I kept walking. "Don't worry," Jasper called out. "She'll come back begging me in a few days." I walked out the front door. The morning air was crisp and cold. It felt like freedom. I stood by the curb and opened my Uber app. Then I opened my messages. I attached the video I had just taken. **To: Gavin Sterling** **[Video Attachment]** **Mr. Sterling, is this enough evidence for marital misconduct?** Chapter 5: I Quit Chapter 5: I Quit (Aurora's POV) The Uber pulled up to the glass tower of Aether Life Sciences at 8:47 in the morning. I walked through the lobby with my carry-on in one hand and a cardboard box tucked under my arm. The receptionist looked up, startled. I didn't stop. Ethan's office was on the fourth floor. I pushed open the door without knocking. He was at his desk, sorting through a stack of folders. He looked up when he heard the door, and his expression shifted the moment he saw me. I dropped the envelope on his desk. It landed with a flat, definitive slap. "Ethan," I said. "That's my resignation." He stared at the envelope, then at me. He picked it up slowly, as if it might bite him. "Mrs. Everett." He set it back down. "Does Jasper know about this?" "No. And it doesn't matter." He straightened in his chair, reaching for the professional tone he kept on standby for difficult situations. "Per the executive contract terms, a resignation of this level requires CEO sign-off before it can be processed. Without Jasper's approval, you can't just-" "Stop." I planted both hands on his desk and leaned forward. "Get one thing straight. This is at-will employment. I'm not serving a prison sentence. Since when do I need a hall pass to walk out the door?" I held up one finger. "And I'm a secretary, Ethan. A secretary. Are you seriously telling me the CEO needs to personally authorize a secretary's resignation?" He opened his mouth. "I'm not asking for permission," I said. "I'm notifying you. I quit. Effective today." He closed his mouth. I watched the panic move across his face and felt nothing but a cold, clean clarity. Three years ago, Jasper had pulled me out of the R&D lab with a single memo. One page, signed by him, and suddenly I was his personal secretary instead of a scientist. I had told myself it was temporary. I had told myself a lot of things. The month after I was transferred, Sienna walked into my lab and took over my project. I hadn't connected the dots then. I did now. Ethan recovered enough to try a different angle. "Your year-end bonus hasn't been disbursed yet. And the non-compete clause in your contract stipulates-" "Speaking of contracts." I cut him off. "Tell your boss something for me. That gene-sequencing patent I licensed to Aether? The personal license I granted, under my own name?" I watched his face carefully. "My attorney will be sending a cease and desist letter later today. Aether has been in violation of the ethical use clause since Sienna took over the project. The license is revoked." The color drained from Ethan's face. "Aurora. The clinical trial is at a critical stage right now. If you pull the core patent authorization, the losses will be-" "In the hundreds of millions. Yes, I know." I picked up my cardboard box. "This isn't a negotiation, Ethan. It's a notification. If Aether uses my intellectual property again without authorization, I'll see you in court." I walked out without looking back. The morning air outside hit me like cold water. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, box in my arms, and breathed. Then I flagged a cab. The coffee shop Gavin had chosen was tucked between a bookstore and a dry cleaner on a quiet side street. Dark wood paneling, low lighting, and booths with high backs that swallowed sound. Private enough. Gavin was already there when I arrived. He pushed his rimless glasses up his nose and reached for the tablet the moment I sat down. "I watched the video three times," he said, pulling up the file. "It's solid. Behavioral and emotional infidelity, clearly documented. The physical component is implied but visible enough to be compelling." "But?" I wrapped both hands around the mug of black coffee the server had just set down. "But this is a no-fault divorce state. A kiss on video doesn't automatically shift the asset division in your favor, not unless we can prove he used marital funds to benefit her." He looked up. "Did he?" "Almost certainly. But I don't care about the asset split." Gavin blinked. "Aurora-" "I want the divorce finalized fast. That's all. I want him to sign the papers and I want to be done." I stirred the coffee slowly. "What I do care about is the patent. Walk me through the process." He leaned back. "The cease and desist goes out today. If they don't comply within the response window, we file for an injunction. Given that the license was granted under your personal name and not as part of any employment agreement, the argument is clean. The ethical use clause violation gives us the hook." He tapped his pen on the table. "Any revenue Aether generated using your patent during the breach period is technically recoverable." "Then recover it." "You're sure you don't want to go after the marital assets too? Because I can make a very strong case-" "I don't want his money, Gavin." I set down the spoon. "I want what's mine. The patent royalties. That's it." He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I'll have the C&D out by noon and the divorce petition filed by end of day. With the video evidence, I can push for an expedited timeline." "Good." I gathered my coat and reached for the cardboard box under the table. My bag had slipped off the seat, and I crouched to pull it back up, then slung it over my shoulder along with the box and pushed toward the door. I was digging for my car keys with one hand when I walked straight into something solid. Not something. Someone. The impact knocked the box sideways. A large hand caught my elbow, steadying me before I could stumble, and another hand settled at my waist. The grip was firm and unhurried, like catching falling things was something this person did without thinking. I looked up. The man was tall. Broad shoulders. A jaw with a day's worth of dark stubble that should have looked careless but didn't. His eyes were grey, the kind of grey that looked like deep water, and they were watching me with an expression I couldn't immediately read. His coat smelled like cedarwood and expensive tobacco. I registered, in a detached and purely aesthetic way, that he was extraordinarily handsome. What a shame, I thought. Wrong time, wrong life. I took a step back, straightened my coat, and shifted the box back under my arm. "Thank you," I said, giving him a brief nod. He smiled. Just slightly. He inclined his head. I stepped around him and walked to my car, my mind already back on injunctions and filing deadlines. (Author's POV) Gavin watched the whole thing from the window booth and couldn't help himself. "Well," he said, as Phineas Everett crossed the coffee shop and dropped into the seat across from him. "I didn't know the famously cold-blooded Phineas Everett made a habit of catching damsels in distress." Phineas said nothing. His gaze had drifted to the table, and it settled on the coffee cup Aurora had left behind. The mug still had a faint imprint of lipstick on the rim. He reached out and ran one finger along the edge of it, slow and thoughtful, the way a person examines something they intend to remember. Gavin cleared his throat. "Jasper," he said, pulling out his folder, "is being both stupid and greedy about the settlement. He actually tried to absorb her patent into the company's IP portfolio. His own wife's personal patent." Phineas's expression didn't change, but his hand went still. He set the mug down and looked at Gavin directly. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and precise. "Can you win?" "You know my record." Phineas's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then win." Gavin nodded, making a note. "I'll have everything moving by end of business today. She's a straightforward client, actually. Doesn't want the marital assets. Just the patent royalties and a fast exit." "Good." Phineas leaned back. "And Gavin." "Yeah?" "Watch your language when you refer to her." A pause. "She won't be Jasper's wife much longer." Gavin looked up from his notepad. "She'll be his ex-wife." "Correct." Gavin rolled his eyes and wrote it down anyway. (Aurora's POV) The hotel room was quiet. I set the cardboard box on the floor and opened my laptop on the small desk by the window. I had three emails to draft and a list of files to organize. I opened a new document and had just started typing when a notification blinked in the corner of the screen. Rosalind's iCloud account. Still synced to this machine. A new photo album had updated. I clicked it without thinking. The first image loaded. Rosalind in her school uniform, arms wrapped around Sienna's neck, grinning at the camera. Sienna had her hand on the back of the girl's head, smoothing her hair with a practiced, maternal gesture. I clicked to the video. "Mom leaving was so childish," Rosalind said, her voice bright and unbothered. "Daddy and I aren't going to go after her." Sienna made a soft sound. "You should still call me Aunt Sienna, sweetheart." But she was smiling. Fully, openly smiling. The next video was shorter. Rosalind dragging Sienna up the stairs, chattering about something. Then the camera panned to the bookshelf in the study. A framed photograph. Jasper, Sienna, and Rosalind, all three of them laughing at something off-camera. It was sitting in the exact spot where a photo of Rosalind and me had been. "This is the perfect family portrait," Rosalind announced. "I want us to stay like this forever."

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Verborgene Gefühle

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