Alpha Cain’s gaze shifted to me. Annoyance flickered in his eyes.
“Stephanie,” he said, his tone sharp, “why are you making a scene?”
I stared at him.
“A scene?” I repeated, disbelief creeping into my voice.
He glanced around the room, taking in the mess.
“It’s just a room,” he said dismissively. “No one’s even using it.”
My hands clenched at my sides.
“This room—” My voice shook. “This room was for our child. The baby I miscarried!”
He didn’t react. Not the way I hoped he would. Not the way I needed him to.
“If you’re upset about the mess,” he continued, as if I hadn’t said anything meaningful at all, “then I’ll have it renovated. Everything can be replaced.”
Replaced. The word hit me harder than anything else.
“No,” I said, my voice trembling. “You can’t replace those.”
His brows furrowed slightly.
“They were the clothes I bought for our baby,” I continued, my chest tightening painfully. “The one I lost… the one we lost.”
“No one is going to use those anyway.”
I stopped breathing.
“The baby’s dead.”
The words were cold. Blunt. Careless.
Something inside me shattered completely. I stared at him, unable to comprehend how he could say that so easily.