Chapter 7: Opening Pandora's Box

Daniel began his frantic defense. "Impossible! E, this is absurd! Amy could never be carrying my child." Panic flashed across his face as he quickly strode toward me, his hand outstretched—only to be thwarted by Amy's fragile body standing in his way. His performance, unraveling like a poorly constructed facade, betrayed him. Fear rippled across his features. The words from Daniel's mouth seemed to hit Amy like a cruel blow. Her hands, which had moments earlier clung desperately to the fabric of my trousers, slackened, falling limply beside her. Her rosy complexion drained to an ashen pallor, her eyes dark wells of despair. I let my gaze drift casually to her golden hair, curiosity raking through me. I wondered what dramatic heights this farce would ascend toward next. "I'd only made an appointment with Dr. Thomas next door and happened to pass by Amy here when I saw her inside the office. I couldn't bear to leave her alone during her prenatal examination, so I stayed to be with her. You know, E, we've always treated Amy like a sister." I had seen him walk into this very office with my own eyes. He couldn't feign innocence. But Amy still seemed unable to grasp the extent of it. She raised her head, eager to speak—only for Daniel's harsh determination to cut her off. He helped her rise from the floor in one swift motion, his grip on her hand tight enough to whiten her knuckles. There was no warmth in his gaze—just a pointed ultimatum. "Amy, help me explain this to E. I don't want her to misunderstand." Serious though Daniel's face might appear, his eyes betrayed him. Cold and empty, they left no space for negotiation. Faced with his unrelenting stare, her complexion paled further, her disbelief giving way to anguish. From the sidelines, I watched with morbid delight. It was a masterpiece. I'd never forget Amy's face at this moment. Despair drained her expression, swiftly followed by humiliation, streaks of bitter tears mingling with her silence. Her resilience crumbled. Her vitality seemed to draw inward in Daniel's shadow. Her luminous eyes grew dull. Even her lips—once lively and pink—grew colorless. In that instant, even I felt sorry for her. "I'm sorry, E. It was I who asked Daniel to come with me. I didn't want the embarrassment of visiting the obstetrician alone, so I asked him to pretend to be my husband." Her lips quivered. "This is all just a misunderstanding. Nothing happened between us." Exhaling, Daniel seized my hand tightly and tugged, his intention clearly to envelop me in his arms. "E, don't overthink this. It's impossible, you know that, don't you?" I sidestepped him with poised grace and tilted my head toward Amy. My smile was perhaps too measured, too sharp. Gone were the airs of defiance Amy displayed last night. There was no trace of confidence left. The hatred and envy in her glare burned brighter than her sorrow. "Amy, I recall suspending your financial support. Yet the necklace you're wearing—a recent design from the Lunéa jewelry collection—is valued at over $100,000. How did you afford it?" Her hand flew instinctively to cover the pendant, shielding it. "E..." Her voice cracked, before spilling over into fresh sobs. "It's a gift from the child's father! This is our keepsake! You can't take it away!" I sighed deliberately, summoning an air of harsh disappointment. "You're still in college. And yet you're five months pregnant. Amy, you've disappointed me beyond measure. I've funded your education for five years! And you—to go so far over a mere necklace? How could you stoop so low, becoming pregnant for a man whose name you won't even utter?" "I invested in you because I wanted you to thrive academically, not become someone's mistress." For a fleeting moment, vulnerability pressed against my carefully composed façade. These were lines I'd once wanted to say tenderly, but circumstance had twisted them into accusations. "You're a disappointment," I declared at last, closing my eyes briefly. When I opened them, I angled my gaze toward Daniel. "Daniel, clearly, Amy has found alternative sources of support. I suppose your help is no longer needed." Amy's fists clenched tightly at her sides. Her expectant gaze didn't waver from Daniel's face—longing for him to contradict me, to utter so much as a syllable in her defense. After all, he was the child's father. But Daniel ignored her completely. Instead, he fixed his ocean-blue eyes on me. His voice, when he spoke, was tender, almost syrupy. "Let her go, E. Amy isn't worth your concern." He hesitated, then added decisively, "I'll stop supporting her immediately, provided you don't let her upset you further." Daniel's words delivered the final blow. Amy faltered on her feet, her strength stripped bare as she slumped to the floor. Yet her collapse evoked no reaction from Daniel. He didn't spare her a glance. His focus remained solely on me as he crooked an arm around my shoulders, guiding me away from Dr. Smith's office. His destination was clear: the neighboring room. "E, this was all just a misunderstanding. I only had an appointment with Dr. Thomas. Running into Amy was a coincidence—I didn't realize she'd come for a prenatal exam alone." I nodded deftly, feigning acceptance of his clumsy explanation. Daniel's actions left me questioning. If he truly loved me—as he made himself out to be—why this infidelity? Yet if his heart belonged to Amy, as the threads of this sordid tale suggested, why was he so heartless toward her? My thoughts spiraled. Curiosity gnawed at my perception of Daniel. It was as though I'd glimpsed a hidden facet, an unfamiliar layer beneath the polished exterior I thought I knew. To bolster his lie, Daniel sighed dramatically, incorporating a touch of faux astonishment. "I was as shocked as you were when I found out Amy was pregnant." But Daniel's deceit lost its grip on my attention as another figure materialized in the hallway. Someone unexpected. A presence so out of place it stole my breath. Why was he here? I stared, eyes widening, unable to mask the genuine astonishment overtaking me as he walked toward me.