Married to My Baby's Killer - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

I used to mistake his concern for love, but it was just murder dressed in kindness.
"Hubby, this milk tastes off. Can I skip it today?"
Vincent gave me that helpless smile of his—the one that never took no for an answer. "Jude, don't be difficult. The doctor said the things you hate the most are exactly what your body needs."
His voice softened, but his grip on the glass didn't. "If you don't rest properly, neither will the baby. Don't you love them? Come on, for our little one. Let me help you."
Before I could protest, the rim was at my lips, tipping the milk down my throat.
Vincent… were you really that afraid my child would get in Estelle's way? Or did you only ever want her to be the mother of your children?
I shut my eyes and drank it all.
Within half an hour, the drug took hold. I curled into myself, gasping, my body slick with cold sweat. Vincent returned just as the pain peaked—like he'd been waiting outside the door.
Even after seven losses, the agony never dulled. It still carved through me like a blade.
Through the haze, I caught fragments of the doctor's voice: "Mr. Long, your wife has lost far more blood than before. Her body can't take another pregnancy—she'll never conceive again."
Vincent didn't speak. Just held me, his eyes red-rimmed, whispering, "Jude, it's okay. Even without children, I'll love you. I'll take care of you forever."
The CEO who'd never lifted a finger for anyone now wiped the blood from my skin himself. He bundled me in his arms, shielding me from the chill, murmuring comforts until I drifted off.
But in the dead of night, sleep loosened his tongue.
"Elle… don't worry. I'll make sure you're happy."
The dam broke. On our wedding day, he'd promised me happiness—but it was just another lie to keep me from ruining Estelle's life.
My marriage was a joke. A cruel, elaborate farce.
I grabbed my phone and typed a message to my best friend overseas:
[Remember when you asked me to travel the world with you? I've made up my mind. I'll be in Lichtonia the day after tomorrow.]
The pain in my abdomen flared, sharp enough to steal my breath. His child. His choice to take it from me.
I locked myself in the bathroom, silent sobs wracking my body as memories played behind my eyelids.
When I stood, my phone clattered to the floor. As I bent to pick it up, something beneath the sink caught my eye—a bundle wrapped in satin, expensive and carefully hidden.
Curiosity won. I peeled back the layers.
A photo album.
Estelle's face stared back at me—page after page, from fifteen to twenty-eight.
The cover design was familiar. I'd seen it in Vincent's office. He'd always loved photography.
Though Vincent was Kenneth's younger cousin, he wasn't much older than us. As kids, he'd watch Kenneth and me bicker with detached amusement, like our drama was beneath him.
Then, when Estelle turned fifteen, she'd approached me with a smile. "Can we be friends?"
And just like that, Vincent started joining us. Picking up a camera.
I'd thought it was him growing up.
But really?
He'd just found someone worth capturing.
The photos in this album—some I'd seen before.
Most, I hadn't.
Not even back then.