"Besides," he added, brushing her hair aside, "you're already pregnant. The rightful heir of the Holmes family can only be our child."
A deafening buzz filled my ears. My mind went blank.
For Patricia's sake... my husband had planned to kill our baby?
I froze where I stood, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood.
This couldn't be true...
Just this morning, Weston had rested his hand on my belly, whispering softly to our child, telling me how much he looked forward to becoming a father.
No. He wouldn't... he couldn't...
But memories of my past miscarriages flooded back like a nightmare I could never escape.
The first child was just three months old.
We were at the hospital for a checkup when one of his enemies ambushed him. I shielded him from the attack and lost the baby.
The second time, he hired bodyguards to protect me around the clock. But a runaway truck rammed into my car on my way home.
I spent three days in the ICU, and when I woke up, the baby was gone.
The third time was when his company was about to go public. I told him I was pregnant, and he held me so tightly I could hardly breathe. He swore he'd protect me no matter what.
But then, he was dragged into a gang war.