Chapter 2
The anesthesia was ineffective. Every touch of the cold surgical instruments felt like being torn apart. The pain eventually plunged me into darkness.
When I opened my eyes, Hudson was there, his eyes red and swollen. His voice, soft yet laced with concern and a hidden guilt, asked, “Reese, thank God you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been outside the OR the whole time,” he confessed. “God, Reese, losing Noah… it’s killing me. If I lost you too, I just… I couldn’t handle it.”
“Babe,” he began, his voice strained, “the doctors told me… the stab wounds damaged your uterus. You won’t be able to have more children.” He squeezed my hand. “But don’t worry – I’ll take care of you forever. Being childless isn’t so bad.”
I looked down at my bandaged abdomen. The hollow emptiness inside mirrored the permanent loss of my chance at motherhood.
“Where’s Noah?” I whispered.
Hudson’s face tightened with grief, overlaid by something darker. “He’s been cremated. The funeral’s tomorrow.”
“Reese, I’m so sorry – I failed him. I failed both of you.”
My heart clenched, but I concealed my knowledge of his lies. On the bedside table sat an elegant box containing a protection pendant.
“Hudson… it’s Noah’s birthday. We never gave him his present. Could this pendant stay with him? To keep him safe, wherever he is?”
Hudson’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly. “Hon, that’s actually a commission I’m handling for a client’s child. We can’t give away someone else’s piece.”
“Besides,” he continued, “it’s meant for the living. Noah… he can’t use it now.”
“And honestly,” he added, “it’s not special enough for him. I’ve ordered all the premium items for the funeral. He’ll have everything he needs.”
I remained silent, my heart hardening. Hudson had forgotten my years as a luxury jewelry authenticator before becoming a stay-at-home mother. That pendant was platinum and diamonds, custom-designed, worth well into six figures. The inscription read “Forever Protected”—a testament to parental love. For two months, I’d glimpsed Hudson in his study, meticulously crafting that pendant. I’d believed it was Noah’s birthday gift. Now I understood—in his heart, we were the unworthy ones.
At my insistence, Hudson arranged my discharge and took me home. He dismissed the private nurse, insisting on caring for me himself—bathing me, washing my hair, carefully tending to my wounds. He even blow-dried my hair, playing the attentive husband flawlessly. Once, his gentle touch would have melted me. Now, tracing the brutal scars across my stomach and remembering Noah’s last moments, I felt only emptiness.
That night, while Hudson slept, I slipped into his study and accessed his laptop. The password? Valeria’s birthday. Thousands of photos and videos filled his drives—Valeria’s pregnancy, their son’s milestones, every precious moment of their secret family life. Hidden among them: a prepared stock transfer agreement. Throughout our fifteen-year marriage, Hudson had spent most of his time “traveling for business.” The reality? He was building a life with Valeria and their son. How naive I’d been never to question it. His WhatsApp remained logged in. The pinned chat group titled “Our Perfect Family of Three” felt like a dagger to my heart.