Do you really want to know?” His voice was a low growl.
“Tell me!”
He spun around, his eyes red-rimmed and raw, the mask finally cracking. “That year… the night you took the pills. I rushed you to the ER. While they were working on you, they ran labs. The doctor told me you were pregnant.”
The room tilted. “Pregnant?”
“Three months along,” Michael said, his voice breaking into a bitter laugh. “You do the math, Susan. We hadn’t touched each other in six months.”
The baby was Ethan’s.
“What happened to it?” I whispered.
“I had the doctor perform the abortion,” he said, the words dragging out of him like jagged stones. “You were unconscious. I signed the consent forms as your husband. I told them to take care of it.”
“You… you killed my child?”
“A child?” Michael roared, stepping closer. “It was evidence! What was I supposed to do? Let you give birth to a bastard child in this town? Let Jake know his mother wasn’t just a cheater, but carrying another man’s baby?”
“You had no right!”
“I had every right! I saved your reputation. I saved this family!”
“I hate you,” I sobbed, collapsing onto the rug. “I hate you.”
“Good,” he spat. “Now you know how I’ve felt every single day for eighteen years.”
Just then, the phone on the side table rang. It shrieked through the tension. Michael snatched it up.
