Nursery Becomes Mistress's Bedroom

I had just entered the house, clutching the pregnancy report I'd spent five years working towards, when I caught sight of my husband guiding his young female assistant into the nursery.

Holly Winter wrung her hands, bowed her head, and began to weep, intentionally showing the red marks on her neck.

"Alex, I have nowhere to go. Please allow Mr. Thornton to take me in," she begged.

Darrell Thornton grasped her hand, his voice sharp and defensive as he addressed me.

"She's the promising student you supported. She's freshly graduated and can't afford rent. You're a mature woman—don't make a big deal out of helping a young girl."

He gave me a cold look.

"Moreover, you're unable to bear children. We have plenty of spare rooms. What's the harm in letting her stay temporarily?"

I watched silently as he transformed the nursery we had prepared into her bedroom.

With a deep sigh, I made a phone call.

"Mom, is it too late for me to accept your previous conditions and return home?"