"The doctor failed for some reasons, but I realized not yet," George replied, his tone dark and amused. "Divorce is messy right now with the merger. Besides..." I heard the rustle of fabric, the sound of him pulling her close. "I enjoy torturing her. Did you see her face when I bought you the necklace? It was priceless."
"You’re terrible," Donna giggled.
"I’m practical. And I’m yours."
Then came the wet, sickening sound of them kissing.
The evening was a blur of misery. We arrived at the Caldwell estate for his grandfather’s 80th birthday. The air in the grand dining room was stifling, heavy with the scent of roast duck and judgment.
"So," Grandfather Caldwell boomed from the head of the table, his bushy white eyebrows drawn together. He didn't look at George; he looked straight at me. "Another year, and still no heir."
The room went silent. The clinking of silverware stopped.
"Grandfather," I started, my voice small. "I..."
"I heard about the hospital," the old man interrupted, slamming his wine glass down. "Careless. Absolutely careless. You had one job, Eliza. To carry the Caldwell line. And you lost it."
"It wasn't my fault," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes despite my resolve.