I braced myself against the desk and slowly straightened up.
Watching his silhouette disappear through the doorway, I smiled in the dark without making a sound.
Giles, you're wrong.
What you ripped out of me wasn't a useless uterus.
It was your only chance, in this lifetime, at a bloodline.
I was the only woman in this world who could ever bear a child for a man whose body would never produce one on its own.
And now, that chance was gone.
The Gilbert Group's thirtieth-anniversary gala was a grand affair.
Every notable family in the city was in attendance.
Giles wanted to legitimize Lucinda and the "firstborn" in her belly, so he ordered me to dress up and attend.
I chose a pure black couture gown.
The makeup artist said the dress was too somber, wrong for a celebration.
I smiled at my reflection.
A funeral, after all, calls for something dignified.
When I walked into the banquet hall, every pair of eyes in the room turned to me.
Some held sympathy. Some held pity. Most held the gleeful curiosity of spectators settling in for a show.
I didn't care.
I walked over to Giles, who had his arm around Lucinda and was introducing her to guests.