But Louis turned to me, his eyes sharp as ever, his voice was filled with disgust. “You see, this is what a woman does. She brings life into this world. Not like you, Alexandra.”
I blinked, stunned into silence.
“Three years, Alexandra. Three years, and nothing. What good are you, huh?” he said, his voice low but cutting. “You sit there, pretty and useless, while others—real women—do what you can’t.”
A chill ran down my spine. His words hit harder than any physical blow ever could. My secret, once something I’d clung to with hope, felt like it was slipping from my grasp.
I wanted to scream at him, to throw the truth in his face, but my voice was gone, stolen by the shock and the betrayal. How could he say that to me now? How could he, when I carried his child?
Before I could gather the strength to speak, Louis stood, straightening his jacket.
“I’m going to Jane’s to celebrate,” he announced to the room. Then, with a cold glance in my direction, he added, “Don’t wait up.”
The door slammed behind him, and I was left alone at the table, surrounded by men who wouldn’t dare meet my eyes.