Behind me, a cluster of nurses whispered among themselves, every word carrying in the stillness.
"Everyone knows Mr. Gilbert only cares about the young master. She's just the mother of some illegitimate daughter, and she has the nerve to throw a fit?"
"Exactly. If she can't even leverage her own child for status, what kind of mistress is she?"
I bit down on my lower lip until I tasted iron, then forced myself to look at Thomas.
He acted as though he hadn't heard a word. Completely unbothered.
No correction. No defense.
He was just watching the child on the other bed, his gaze lingering with a tenderness I'd never once been given.
"Stop making a scene. Douglas just fell asleep."
"No wonder God made you wait all those years before giving you a child. You don't have the first idea how to be a mother."
My eyes went wide.
My hand moved before I could think. The slap cracked across his face.
A sharp sound split the quiet. Half his face swelled red, and his brow furrowed.
"Thomas Gilbert. You know exactly why I couldn't get pregnant all those years."
He stiffened. The crease in his brow slowly relaxed into something blank.
"Enough. That was forever ago. How long are you going to hold onto it?"
I was going to hold onto it for as long as it took.
"When your company was just getting off the ground, I was the one they poured drinks into at those business dinners. I ended up with alcohol poisoning."
"When your rivals kidnapped you and threw you into the ocean, I traded myself to get you back. I nearly died."
"And then, two years ago, the first time I caught you with Tracey Harding."
I locked onto his eyes and did not look away.
"I had just found out I was pregnant. But you were so afraid it would upset her that you forced me to abort. And after that, I could barely conceive again."
Thomas couldn't meet my eyes.
I let out a bitter laugh, the taste of it like ash.
"If I'd known it would come to this, I never should have remarried you."
He finally lowered his head.
"I... You're right. I owe you for all of that."
I closed my eyes.
"You've owed me for years, Thomas. Every single one of them."
"And you owe our daughter just as much."
"Since the day she was born, you never once cared about her. Not when she was sick. Not when she cried."
"But that bastard child of yours? Him you dote on."
Thomas said nothing.
I scoffed and turned to look at the two children.