Alex's words still echo in my mind, cutting deeper than any knife ever could. "Were you a prostitute?" The accusation burns, raw and unyielding.
And then there's my mother's voice, too—her warning still sharp in my memory. The Cardwells… don't trust them. What had she seen, or known, that I didn't? It's like a puzzle piece that refuses to fit, a clue tangled in the web Victoria has so masterfully spun around me.
"Emma?" Lydia's voice pulls me back to reality. She stands in the doorway, her sharp, no-nonsense gaze softened with concern. "You've been sitting there for an hour. Talk to me."
I shake my head, my throat tightening as the weight of my humiliation and pain presses down harder. "He thinks I lied, Lydia. He thinks the baby might not be his." My voice cracks, betraying the hurt I've been trying to suppress.