Emily sat up, shading her eyes with her hand. It was Ryan's black SUV, arriving hours earlier than usual. A wide smile spread across her face. She reached for her silk cover-up, standing up to go greet him.
But as Ryan stepped out of the driver's side, the passenger door opened.
Emily’s smile froze.
Sloane stepped out onto the driveway. She was wearing casual clothes, her hair pulled back, carrying a designer overnight bag. Ryan rounded the car, pulling two large suitcases from the trunk. He didn't look toward the pool; instead, he gestured for Sloane to follow him, and they began walking down the manicured stone path.
They were heading straight for the estate’s private guest house.
Emily’s blood turned to ice. She pulled on her cover-up, her bare feet slapping against the hot stone as she quickened her pace, practically running across the lawn to intercept them.
"Ryan!" she called out, her voice sharp.
Ryan stopped, turning to face her. He didn't look guilty. He looked calm, a master architect overseeing a new addition to his property. Sloane stood half a step behind him, clutching her bag.
"Emily," Ryan said smoothly as she marched up to them.
"What is the meaning of this?" Emily demanded, her chest heaving, her eyes darting between her husband and his mistress. "Why is she here? With luggage?"
Ryan sighed, stepping forward and reaching out. He took Emily’s trembling hand, intertwining his fingers seamlessly with hers. His grip was gentle, but inescapable. "Emily, please. Do not make a scandal where the staff can hear you."
He pulled her gently but firmly toward the door of the guest house. He opened it, guiding her inside. Sloane followed without a word, shutting the door behind them to seal them in the cool, air-conditioned foyer.
"Sloane is going to live here," Ryan announced, his tone as casual as if he were discussing a change in the landscaping. "She can no longer live alone in the city."
Emily stared at him, her mind reeling. "What? What does that have to do with us? She can live anywhere! She can live on the other side of the world, but she is not living on my property!"
Ryan’s grip on her hand tightened, and he took her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles before delivering the final blow. "She is living here, Emily."
Emily yanked her hand free, whirling around to face Sloane. "Are you insane? You think you can just move into my backyard?"
As she glared at the younger woman, Emily’s eyes dropped. Sloane’s hand was resting protectively over her stomach. Now without the overnight bag blocking the view, Emily could see clearly. Beneath the fabric of her loose blouse,there was a small, distinct curve. A bump that mirrored Emily’s from months ago, back when she was in her early pregnancy.
Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in paralyzing horror.
Sloane looked back at her. Her expression wasn't smug or mocking. It was devastatingly sincere and loving. She offered Emily a small, soft smile and whispered, "I'm pregnant, Emily."
Emily recoiled, stumbling backward as if Sloane had struck her. She hit the edge of a table, gasping for air. "No," she whimpered, shaking her head frantically. "No, no, no."
She turned to Ryan, tears spilling down her cheeks without warning. She grabbed the lapels of his suit, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the expensive fabric. "Tell me you didn't do this to me," she begged, her voice breaking into a gut-wrenching sob. "Ryan, please. Tell me it isn't yours."
Ryan didn't flinch. He looked down at her, his dark eyes entirely devoid of remorse. He placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her to his chest.
"It wasn't in the plans, Em," he said, his voice terrifyingly pragmatic. "But it happened. And there is no turning back."
"You can't bring her here!" Emily shrieked, punching his chest, the gilded cage finally shrinking until it crushed her ribs. "You can't humiliate me like this!"
"I am not humiliating you. You are my wife. You run the main house," Ryan said, stepping back to stand perfectly between the two pregnant women. "But Sloane is carrying my child as well. And I want all my children growing up in the same house. This is how it is going to be."
Emily sank against the wall, sliding down until she hit the cold hardwood floor. She stared at the man she had destroyed her life for, realizing that the happily ever after she had fought so desperately for was nothing but a crowded, inescapable prison.
***
A few weeks later, Emily lay back against the plush pillows of their master bed, her fingers tangled tightly in the dark sheets. Ryan was positioned between her thighs, his mouth working expertly against her most sensitive center. The heat of his tongue and the rhythm of his lips drew a desperate, shattered cry from her throat as a brilliant, all-consuming climax rushed through her veins.
Tears spilled from her eyes, hot and bitter, tracking into her hairline as she shattered. She cried because, despite everything, he had been incredibly attentive. Since Sloane had moved onto the property, nothing outward had changed; he was even more present in the main house, showering Emily and Charles with affection. Except for the nights when he slipped out of their bed in the dark, thinking she was asleep, crossing the lawn to the guest house.
But she resolved she would not let it bother her. She was the woman wearing his enormous diamond ring. She was the woman carrying his last name.
