Chapter 3

Anathea watched helplessly as Xander, who'd never liked getting close to others, took Natalie's hand. He walked to her side, clinging to her as if seeking protection.

He'd never relied on Anathea like that before.

At that moment, she felt something inside her shatter.

Noticing how her complexion paled, Gregory frowned. "How did you suddenly fall sick?"

Anathea lifted her gaze to him, a flicker of emotion flashing in her eyes.

"Greg and I heard from Jenny that Xander came to the hospital. We were worried, so we came to pick him up. But it turns out you're sick," Natalie said casually as she turned to Anathea with a concerned expression. "Ms. Jacobson, I hope it's nothing serious. Do you need me to stay and take care of you?"

"It sure is nothing serious. She doesn't need you to take care of her," Gregory replied flatly.

Anathea's gaze dropped again. Her eyes darkened further.

How pathetic. Had she really thought Gregory had come to see her because she was sick? That he actually cared about how she was doing?

"Don't say that, Greg. Ms. Jacobson is your wife," Natalie said earnestly before turning back to Anathea. "Ms. Jacobson, don't take it the wrong way. Greg isn't great at showing concern for others. Though, he did take care of me when I was sick before."

"I'm fine." Anathea had no interest in hearing about the sweet moments between Natalie and Gregory. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to sound normal as she turned to Gregory. "You should take Xander home. It's late. He should be in bed by now."

Xander had private tutoring at the Sinclair residence tomorrow. Gregory's mother, Eleanor Harrington, never tolerated him being late.

To be precise, Eleanor didn't like Anathea, so she was especially harsh on Xander as well.

Gregory's deep gaze rested on Anathea. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

Just then, Xander tugged at his pant leg and yawned. "Dad, I'm sleepy."

"Xander, you're sleepy? How about we take you home to sleep?" Natalie spoke in a gentle voice as she crouched in front of him.

"Okay!" Xander eagerly grabbed onto Gregory's hand. "Let's go, Dad."

Only then did Gregory shift his gaze away from Anathea. She lay back down and turned her back to them, unwilling to watch any longer.

It wasn't until she heard the door close that she turned around. Looking through the glass in the middle of the door, she saw Xander holding Gregory's hand in one of his and Natalie's in the other. They looked like a picture-perfect family of three.

Anathea felt a dull ache in her chest. As their figures faded from view, she instinctively wiped her face, only to find her hand damp with tears.

The nights in Castenea were cold. Anathea curled up, clutching her aching stomach, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

…

The next morning, Jenny brought her a light breakfast of oatmeal and salad.

Anathea had no appetite. She took only a couple of bites before putting her spoon down.

"Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair instructed me to make sure you finish your meal," Jenny said hesitantly, trying to persuade her. "You need to eat to recover faster. Mr. Sinclair does care about you."

Anathea gave a weak smile. How could he possibly care about her? But she didn't have the energy to dwell on it. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of Xander.

It had only been a month since Natalie had returned, yet Xander was already so close to her. Why?

Just then, her phone buzzed with a message. Anathea's eyes lit up as she thought it was from Xander. But the sender was Natalie.

It was a video. In it, Gregory sat at the dining table, reading financial reports on his tablet. Xander sat beside him, his legs dangling above the ground. Sitting on Xander's other side, Natalie gently wiped his hands with a napkin.

It was such a warm, cozy scene, but Anathea felt nothing but cold.

"Xander, do you like my cooking?" Natalie asked with a smile.

"Yes! It's delicious!" Xander beamed.

"Then… whose cooking do you like better, your mom's or mine?"

Xander answered without hesitation, "Yours, of course! Mom always makes me eat carrots and greens, but you don't. You're the best!"

Anathea let out a bitter laugh.

Xander had been born prematurely and had been frail as a baby. Anathea had worked tirelessly to ensure he received proper nutrition, even earning a nutritionist certification to carefully plan his meals. Every day, she prepared food rich in essential nutrients to help him grow stronger.

Yet, in Xander's eyes, her care and effort had become the very reason she wasn't as good as Natalie. How ironic.

Xander tugged on Natalie's sleeve, blinking up at her. "Ms. Whitman, can you live here and make me breakfast every day?"

"Live here?" Natalie's expression showed hesitation, her gaze flickering toward Gregory.

"Yeah! That way, Dad and I can see you every day!" Xander said eagerly, waiting for her response.

The video ended just as Natalie was about to answer.

Anathea felt as if a heavy stone had been placed on her heart, making it hard for her to breathe.

So, Natalie didn't just want her husband and her son. She was going to move into her house too.

"No…" Anathea clutched her aching stomach as she stood up. She had to stop this.

But as soon as she opened the door, she saw a figure standing outside. He was wearing a black mask and a black baseball cap.

Before Anathea could react, he lunged forward and clamped a hand over her mouth.

Anathea's eyes widened in shock. She struggled, but soon, darkness swallowed her whole.

…

When she came to, daylight streamed in through broken windows. She was no longer in the hospital but in an abandoned factory.

"Morning." A man with a scar on his face walked over, sneering. "You sure can sleep. Took you a whole day and night to wake up."

A whole day and night?

Anathea instinctively checked her clothes. She was still in her hospital gown. It was slightly rumpled but intact.

"No need to check." The man, Frankie Marino, snorted. "If it weren't for orders from above to leave you untouched, you wouldn't be sitting here in one piece."

Orders from above?

Anathea's eyes flashed with confusion, but she was immediately startled when a sharp knife suddenly appeared in front of her. "W-What do you want?"

"Relax. We just want money," another, heavier man said.

"I-I don't have any." Anathea shrank back warily.

Since her father had been imprisoned and her mother had fallen ill, she'd had no spare money. So, she'd clung to the title of Mrs. Sinclair, knowing that it was the only way Gregory would provide her a monthly allowance.

Every time she took the check, Anathea felt like nothing more than a worthless woman. The checks were merely a reward from Gregory—a form of charity after using her as a tool to satiate his own desires.

She lowered her gaze, a twinge of bitterness flashing in her eyes.

All of that money went into paying for her mother's treatment. She'd even prepaid three months' worth of expenses, so she was left with almost nothing.

"Cut the crap! You're Mrs. Sinclair, aren't you? The Sinclair family is one of Castenea's wealthiest. Your husband has plenty of money!"

Frankie tossed her phone at her. "Call your husband. Now!"

Anathea hesitated. She'd been missing for over a day, yet the Sinclair family hadn't made a move. That meant Gregory hadn't even looked for her.

If he hadn't looked for her, it meant he didn't care.

Anathea bit her lip. Why were these men so insistent that she call Gregory?

"Now!" Frankie growled, raising the knife threateningly.

"Okay, I'll call." Anathea's hands shook as she dialed Gregory's number.

The moment the phone call connected, she held a tiny sliver of hope. Gregory might not love her, but they were still husband and wife. He wouldn't completely ignore her, would he?

However, on the other end, a woman's voice answered, "Hello?"

Anathea froze for a moment. It was Natalie's voice.

But under Frankie's sharp gaze, Anathea had no choice but to ask, "Where's Gregory? I need to speak to him. It's urgent."

"Oh, you're looking for Greg? He's still asleep."