Chapter 197


    He shot up from his chair, a storm brewing on his face, and towered over me


    with a re that felt like itsted an eternity. Finally, through gritted teeth, he


    spat out, “In your dreams!”


    My temper red in response, and I abruptly stood, marching toward the living


    room where the whispering duo of Margaret and Teresa were seated. “Out


    with it, what’s the deal?”


    “Bry!” Margaret rose, smugness personified, her gaze skipping past me to


    land on Bryant as she dropped her bombshell. “You know what? That baby


    Jane carried might not even be yours.”


    The air seemed to freeze in that instant.


    Rage consumed me, and I was about to let a p fly her way when Margaret,


    ever the viper, dodged and shoved an envelope against me.


    Her smirk came with scorn. “See for yourself. Let’s see how you exin this


    to Bry!”


    The envelope slid down my body to the floor, but before I could pick it up,


    Bryant was already on it, his fingers visibly tensed as he ripped it open and


    pulled out several photos.


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    Just like that, a noticeable change swept over him. What was once a gentle


    expression was now clouded with the onset of stormy anger.


    My heart sank. I hesitated, then reached out to grab the photos, but Bryant


    pulled them away before my fingers could barely graze them.


    An icy aura exuded from him, making my hand hang suspended in the air,


    unable to move.


    “Bry, you see!” Margaret smiled, her voice a soft poison, “She’s been


    unfaithful for a long time. That child in her belly was likely Mark’s.” Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    I nced at the photos when Bryant was momentarily distracted and saw it


    was a shot of a hotel doorway. Indeed, standing there were Mark and I. When


    did Mark and I ever go to a hotel together?


    Memories came flooding back. I was overseas on a business trip, caught up


    in a whirlwind ofworking events. Overwhelmed by alcohol, I stumbled


    back to my hotel room, barely conscious.


    Then Christine called, saying someone would drop off some hangover


    medicine for me.


    I had been too dizzy to see who it was, thanking the mysterious benefactor


    and quickly shutting the door after receiving the medicine.


    Could it have been Mark who delivered it? He had never mentioned that upon


    returning.


    Someone with an agenda had captured that brief moment and saved it for


    such a time as this.