He shrugged like it was nothing. "Tracey, I gave you the home you wanted. I'm young—I want to have my fun."
"Then what about the wedding?" I pressed, refusing to let go.
"The wedding's just to shut those old bastards up so they stop eyeing the chairman's seat."
"And if I don't hold that seat, I can't guarantee what'll happen to the distillery your parents left behind."
"So be a good girl, Tracey. Do as you're told."
I thought of the distillery my parents had died protecting.
I gave in.
I believed he was the only family I had left.
I never imagined that future would only last three years.
A shriek from Desiree yanked me back to the present. She was pointing at the pregnancy report in my hand. "Tracey, you're pregnant!"
She pressed her fingers to her lips, laughing behind them, and let the blade drop: "Tracey, Conrad had a vasectomy for me three years ago. So the father of that child..."
The crowd below erupted:
"Three years of marriage and no baby—I figured Mr. Graves couldn't perform, but turns out he'd rather go under the knife than let his little side piece suffer!"