A nurse approached Victoria with a tablet. "Mrs. Pierce, I've scheduled your next three appointments. Mr. Pierce has already approved the dates."
My hand instinctively moved to my flat stomach.
Three years ago, I'd lost our baby after falling down the stairs. I later discovered that Alexander had "forgotten" to mention that he'd asked the housekeeper to wax them that morning.
When I called him from the emergency room, sobbing as they prepared me for surgery, I heard Victoria's voice in the background. "Hanging up already? But we've only just started..."
Alexander had called back an hour later, Victoria curled against him in the frame.
"Why are you always so clumsy?" he'd snapped. "You can't even carry a child properly. What good are you to me?"
Then, lowering his voice to a whisper that only I could hear: "Maybe this is nature's way of telling us you were never meant to be a mother."
The memory burned like acid in my throat.
I was about to turn and find another exit when Alexander spotted me. His eyes narrowed as he strode toward me, leaving Victoria at the desk.
"Why are you lurking around like some pathetic stalker?" he hissed.