Chapter 3

Clifford stood up. “Renata, we've dropped off the gift. We're leaving."

Renata's face fell. She jumped to her feet. "Clifford, why are you in such a rush? People are still arriving. At least stay for dinner."-

"We can't. I have work to do at the office." With that, Clifford took Latisha's arm and walked out of Lambert Manor without a backward glance.

Renata seethed. She couldn't understand him. It was one thing to protect the mute girl when they were children. But he'd had a girlfriend he loved, and after being forced into this marriage, not only did he not make Latisha's life miserable, he actually moved out of the manor with her.

If you thought he loved her, you only had to remember the aborted child-he hadn't said a word. And he was still entangled with the woman on the outside.

But if you thought he didn't love her, then why did he protect her at every turn? Why wouldn't he just divorce her?

Back in the car, Clifford lit a cigarette, the tense set of his jaw betraying his agitation. Latisha sat quietly beside him, waiting for him to finish.

When he was done, he turned to her. She wore the same docile expression, a faint, polite smile on her lips, like a servant awaiting her master's command.

A knot of frustration tightened in Clifford's chest. He couldn't pinpoint why. She was no different than she'd always been.

"What do you think about what Renata said?"

*What?* Latisha signed.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He stared straight at her. "About having a child."

He saw it clearly-the way her smile froze on her lips. It took her a moment to force it back into place.

*Your mother is right,* she signed. *We shouldn't have one.*

Life had taught Latisha one hard lesson: everything she ever hoped for eventually shattered into pieces The more beautiful the dream the more painful it was when it broke.

冷

Like the birthday cake she'd wanted as a child. Darby had bought her one, and as she'd leaned in, full of excitement to make a wish, Renata had shoved her face straight into the frosting. When she'd pulled her head back, covered in cake, she was met with the sound of laughter. They all thought it was hilarious.

Latisha had secretly licked a bit of frosting from the corner of her mouth. It wasn't as delicious as she'd imagined.

They thought cakes weren't for eating. Just as Clifford wasn't really asking to have a child with her.

"We didn't use anything last night, did we?"

*I took a pill,* she signed.

Clifford watched her fingers move. They were long and slender, dancing through the air as she spoke her silent language. It was, he had to admit, strangely beautiful.

After a moment, he looked away and started the car. "Good."

Latisha lowered her head. He was testing her again. He was just like his mother, afraid of the shame a mute child would bring.

She was glad she had suppressed that flicker of hope, glad she hadn't let her love for him show.

He had told her not to love him, but he didn't know that every time he had defended her, every small act of kindness had planted another seed of affection in her heart. Sometimes, she wished he had been cruel to her like the others. At least then, only her body would hurt, not her heart.

Clifford dropped her off at the café where she worked. As the car pulled up to the curb, they saw Yesenia standing there, waiting.

Yesenia always found a way to find him. She was stunning—tall and long-legged, with a cascade of dark curls. She turned heads wherever she went.

The moment she saw Clifford and Latisha get out of the car, her face tightened, her eyes flashing with fury. Anyone watching would have thought she was the wronged wife.

"What are you doing here?" Clifford asked, showing no surprise, no guilt. This was clearly not the first time.