She slowly nods her head. I am stunned, wondering why she kept the secret from us.
She looks everywhere but at me, fear evident in her eyes. It is enough that I have put her through so much stress, but seeing her in this state makes my heart bleed.
“Is Dad aware?” she cries even more. I step back, not knowing how to react to her tears. I guess she remembers something.
“That’s one of the reasons your dad hates me and doesn’t want anything to do with me,” she says, her voice choking with tears.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, bringing her into a hug. “I didn’t know about this.”
“So many things happened when I was pregnant with you guys,” she continues, crying even harder.
“My family had a business dealing with very dangerous people, and the only way they could repay them was by taking away my baby.”
“Before then, your father loved me so much. But after the incident, he couldn’t stand the sight of me,” she says, tears streaming down her face.
She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I tried to keep it together for you and Nathalie, but every day was a struggle. The memories, the loss, it all haunted me.”
My heart bleeds for the pain she has endured in the name of marriage. I wish I could do something, anything, to make it better for her.
She wipes her tears with the back of her hand. “Have you found her? Have you found my baby?” she asks, her eyes full of hope.
I hate to disappoint her. Seeing the hope in her eyes, I slowly shake my head and say, “No.”
Her eyes cast down, she stares into the distance. A nurse comes in to check on her, adjusting the medicine and the drip. I watch as she slowly drifts off to sleep. It’s my cue to leave so she can rest.
My heart feels heavy with the revelation. She has endured so much, and I am at a loss for how to help her.
I step out of the room, and the hospital corridor feels cold and empty. How could I not have known? How could we have lived all these years without understanding her pain?
As I walk, memories from my childhood replay in my mind. Moments that once seemed insignificant now take on new meaning. The times she appeared distant, the bouts of unexplained sadness, they all started to make sense.
I find a quiet corner and sit down, burying my face in my hands. Why did Isabelle Russ refuse to honor her daughter Lyvia’s wish to see her? I feel a deep empathy for Lyvia and Asher; it must have been a painful experience.
I stand up and make my way out of the hospital, my thoughts scattered. I am so lost in thought that I don’t notice someone approaching until our bodies collide. The sudden jolt pulls me back to reality.
I look up and see Nathalie. “Hi, you came to check up on Mum?” I say awkwardly, the truth is, I am too tired to keep fighting.
She did not answer, merely gazing at me with indifference, but later spoke. “Do I have to answer any of your damn questions?” she replies, her voice icy.
What was I expecting? I have an island that belongs to Jake’s family, and we have never gotten along.
“You don’t know who Logan is? I wonder what you were thinking when you agreed to marry such a man,” she says in a menacing, low tone.
My eyes snap to her, anger flaring. “Is it not enough that I caught you in bed with Jake and left him for you? Do you want Logan too? And he didn’t spare you a glance. Is that why you’re so bitter?”
She is momentarily taken aback by my words but quickly regains her composure.
“I know you’re enjoying the scandal making the news about me. And I will certainly expose Logan if it means revealing all his dirty secrets.”
“You seem to know him well,” I reply sharply. “But newsflash: I don’t care about his dirty secrets, even if they involve you trying to win him for yourself.”
“What do I need Logan for when I have Jake, the perfect, charming husband?” She says.
“I can bet my life that Logan feels nothing for you. You only married him to spite Jake.” With that, she walks away.
I stand rooted in shock, relieved that she has left so she won’t see the effect her words have on me.
With my bag firmly in hand, I head to the hospital gate. The driver waits as one of the bodyguards opens the door for me.
“Thank you,” I muttered, sinking into the back seat. The car moves slowly, and I stare out the window as we make our way home.
When I arrive at the house, I am surprised to see Logan standing in the foyer, as if he’s been waiting for me.
“What’s wrong? You’re back early,” I say, moving closer. He opens his arms, and I walk into them, needing the embrace. He rests his chin on my head, and I sense a sigh of relief from him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking up into his face.
He gives a small smile. “I’ve missed my wife. I had to put everything on hold and come here. I’ve missed you.”
I search his eyes, hoping to catch any hint of insincerity, but I am taken aback by the genuine warmth in his gaze.
I sit with Logan, my mind keeps drifting back to what Nathalie said. I try to reconcile her harsh words with the man holding me so lovingly as if I mean the world to him.
He tilts my face up and looks into my eyes. “How is your mother?”
“She’s fine,” I reply, feeling a pang of guilt for not being fully present.
“Are you okay? You seem a bit out of place.”
I start to apologize, “I’m just tired,” but before I can finish, he scoops me into his arms. I gasp in surprise. “No, Logan, I can walk,” I say, giggling.
“But you said you’re tired,” he responds with a playful smile as he carries me inside the house. I notice we’re not heading to my room. “Where are you taking me?” I ask suddenly.
“To my room, of course,” he replies, kicking the door open and gently placing me on the bed. “I miss my wife, and I want her in my bed. Is that too much to ask?”
“I need a bath, and I can’t do that here,” I protest.
“Why not?” he says with a grin. “You can strip while I do the same, and we can have a bath together.”
My face flushes as his words sink in. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts racing through my mind. Nathalie’s warning about not knowing who Logan plays on my mind.
“Is there something you’re hiding from me?” I ask suddenly.
Logan is momentarily taken aback, but he quickly masks his surprise. His expression remains guarded as he responds with a question of his own. “Is there something you think I’m hiding that you’re not telling me?”