Page 109 of The Contract Marriage

My head pounds as I drive to work. I already texted Simon not to pick me up from Liam’s place this morning.

–Simon: Is everything okay?

–Me: It’s fine. My morning sickness is under control now. I’m driving to work myself. See you later.

I’m not discussing my marital troubles with my assistant, no matter how long he’s been with me. Still, as my eyes burn and I fight to keep them open, I wonder if I should’ve asked him to drive me.

No. That would have meant he’d have to come to my Century City condo, which would mean he’d know something was up between me and Liam.

Nothing between us is for anyone else to gossip about, ever.

When I walk into the office, Simon studies me with a particularly probing gaze. Do I look that bad? I took care this morning to cover up my dark circles and other signs of fatigue. Appearance is everything—that’s how I fooled everyone into thinking I was just a helpless heiress until I was ready to strike. Maybe that’s why Liam believed I was wonderful until he saw underneath the surface. I flex my hands to hide the slight tremor.

“You look tired,” he comments finally.

“Growing a baby takes it out of you.” I force a little airiness. “Lay out the day for me.”

He starts reciting the day’s agenda. I reach for my crystallized ginger, then pause. The hexagonal jar isn’t on the shelf anymore.

“Where did the ginger go?” I say, interrupting Simon.

“It’s right there.” He points to the tin.

“No, the one Liam brought.” The one that I really want.

“Oh. I threw it out this morning.”

My head starts to pound. “What?” I couldn’t have heard that right.

He shrugs. “You always throw away things from your exes when your relationships end—”

It takes a moment for the implications to percolate through. Then rage erupts. How dare he define what Liam is to me? I jump to my feet. “Who told you Liam’s my ex?”

Simon flinches and takes half a step back. “Aren’t you guys done? He isn’t with you anymore.”

What the fuck? “Who said we’re done? He’s—” The man I love sticks in my throat. “The father of my child,” I manage to finish.

He holds up a placating hand. “Yes, I know. But I went by the house today, and nobody was there. Not you, not him.”

“You were spying on me?” My voice grows shrill. Just what the hell has Simon been up to behind my back?

“No, of course not. But I can guess what happened. He left you over what you said. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“What did I say?” I demand, my voice shaking despite my hopeless struggle for control as dread digs into my heart like an ice pick. I haven’t felt this since Brielle hit Pochi with her car.

Simon clears his throat. “Well… You basically called him a pawn.”

What? “How would he know that particular detail from our private conversation?” I manage through the panic knotting in my belly.

He hesitates.

“Simon.”

“He…” He swallows. “I think he was here on Friday.”

My vision blackens for a moment. I reach out to grab something before I fall.

“Olivia!”