“I am not upset with you.”
Behind me, a voice cut in.
“Mr. Carter, this is not what it looks like.”
I didn’t turn.
“Mom. Towel. Now. Chloe—blanket.”
For the first time in my life, my mother obeyed instantly.
But Margaret Wells didn’t move.
Eliza finally looked at me.
Relief… and fear.
Together.
“Did she force you?” I asked softly.
Before Eliza could answer—
“The girl is emotional,” Margaret said smoothly. “Final trimester hysteria.”
I stood.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
“You were calming her,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“By calling her disgusting?”
A flicker.
“By telling her no one would believe an orphan?”
Silence.
That was enough.
Chapter 2: The Architect of Cruelty
“Chloe,” I said, not looking away from my mother. “Take Eliza upstairs. Stay with her.”
Eliza recoiled when my mother reached for her.
Recoiled.
That moment hit harder than anything else.
She was afraid of my mother.
Once they were gone, I turned.
“I want the truth.”
Margaret crossed her arms. “Your wife is unstable.”
I laughed.
It sounded like something breaking.
“No,” I said. “I came home to find my pregnant wife scrubbing her skin raw while you watched.”
“She needed discipline.”
Then I looked at my mother.
And everything clicked.
“You hired her.”
Silence.
“You pushed for her. You insisted.”
My mother stiffened. “You’re being dramatic.”
Memories flooded in.
Eliza apologizing constantly.
Flinching.
Asking if I’d leave her.
