Page 40 of Unfaithful

I had been so sure, so convinced that Sara's love for me was too great for her ever to let go.

Even though I knew what I was doing would hurt her, I had the affair anyway.

Too confident.

Too much of an asshole to stop.

Sara, once so soft and forgiving, had finally broken free. She had always been strong and independent, but now she was unshakable—tougher than ever. Even though it had broken her, she refused to fall apart. She was holding on, standing tall, no matter how much it hurt.

She had grown wings, and now she was ready to fly—without me.

I admired her. I loved her even more for it. And now, I had lost her.

I rubbed my tired face and turned toward my car. Everything felt like it was closing in on me. Then my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen. It was Elsa.

My brows furrowed in annoyance. I wouldn't be feeding her whatever it was she wanted from me. Not again. Never.

With a sigh, I ignored the call and shoved my phone into my jacket pocket, then drove away.

But the phone kept buzzing. Again and again.

At the red light, I finally pulled it out, unable to shake the nagging worry. Elsa could give birth any day now. I couldn't afford to ignore her.

That bitch.

"Yeah," I sighed into the phone.

But the voice on the other end wasn't Elsa's. It was someone I didn't recognize.

"Cole Sterling?" the woman asked.

I straightened up. "Yes?"

"I'm Kim Kramer, Elsa's mother," she said, her tone brisk. "You need to get here. Fast. Her water just broke."

*** *** ***

I stared at Kim—Elsa's mother—someone I hadn't even known existed, let alone was still in her life. Elsa had told me her father had passed away and that she did not know where hermother was. She even said there was a good chance her mother was dead.

If I had cared enough, I should've asked more. Should've questioned it. But I didn't.

I remember my response was a simple nod. No follow-up. No curiosity.

By then, I already despised her too much to care.

And yet, here she was, sitting across from me in the hospital waiting room, waiting for Elsa as she underwent an emergency C-section. Elsa had been in labor for several hours, but her condition deteriorated rapidly because of pre-eclampsia, leaving the doctors no choice but to intervene.

Kim was glaring at me, suspicion and disapproval clear in her eyes.

I leaned back, crossed my arms, and met her glare head-on.

I already didn't like this woman. Worse, she looked exactly like Elsa, and the thought made my stomach churn. Was this what Elsa would look like in middle age? The idea unsettled me.

I had no doubt she was blaming me for making her daughter's blood pressure skyrocket.

Not that I could deny it.

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