Love Too Late When She's Gone

Rachel’s pov The marble floor was cold beneath my knees, but not as cold as Vincent's eyes. "I didn't push her." My voice was small as I said it, even as my hands trembled at my sides. Three months of marriage, and I'd never seen him look at me like I was something disgusting he'd found on the bottom of his shoe. Vincent stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, cradling Camilla in his arms like. Blood seeped through her white silk blouse, spreading across the fabric in dark blooms. Her head lolled against his chest. I pushed back the jealousy. "There were only you and Camilla here." Vincent demanded, his dark eyes burned into mine. "Who else could it be if not you, Rachel?" Vincent's disgusted look made my throat tighten. I don't understand why he would rather believe Camilla than me—the woman sleeping next to his pillow. "Vincent, I—" "Do you want to see who Vincent truly cares about?" The question made my heart ache and even worse when Camilla's words from five minutes ago came back to me. I had thought she was kidding around or trying to get into my head as usual. We'd been alone in the hallway outside the library. She'd reached out, her fingers brushing my arm, and I'd stepped back instinctively. She fell backward down the stairs, her scream cutting off abruptly when she hit the landing. "Mr. Ashford." Wicket stepped forward from the doorway. Vincent's assistant had appeared so quickly after Camilla's fall, "I saw what happened. Mrs. Ashford pushed her." My jaw dropped from the straight faced lie. Wicket's face showed nothing but concern, but I caught the briefest flash of satisfaction in his eyes. My heart cracked open. "That's not true. I never—" "Are you really that jealous?" Vincent asked me, his words were cold. Every line of his body radiated fury, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. Was he this upset because it was Camilla? I have never seen him angry before. "Camilla is pregnant with Wyatt's child. My brother's child. And you—" He shook his head, disgust clear on his face. "You've let me down." The hand holding my heart squeezed it together till I was barely breathing. Wyatt. Vincent's older brother died in a car accident three months ago and since then, the family had never been the same. Vincent had promised Wyatt on his deathbed that he would take care of her. I'd watched him make that promise. While holding his brother's hand while Wyatt's breathing turned shallow. Take care of Camilla. Please. She'll need you. "Vincent, please." My voice broke. I hated how small I sounded but I was desperate. "Why would you trust anyone else over me? I'm your wife." He stopped short like he suddenly remembered that we were married but then Camilla moaned softly in his arms, and whatever feeling he had felt in that moment vanished into the thin air. "You're my wife in name only." He said coldly. "We both know that." The words stung but it shouldn’t have. Our marriage had been a transaction, I knew that. He'd needed a wife to satisfy his mother's demands. I'd needed... well. I'd needed to belong somewhere after a lifetime of having nothing. An orphanage didn't prepare you for much, but it taught you to recognize when you weren't wanted. But they did hurt and it carved right through me. Vincent adjusted his hold on Camilla, preparing to carry her to the ambulance I could hear pulling up outside. I looked to Camilla, willing her to say something. "You know I didn't push you, Camilla." I heard my voice trembling and hoarse, "You should tell Vincent the truth..." But she didn’t meet my eye and snuggled into Vincent's arms. I deflated. "If anything happens to her or that child," he said, not looking at me, "I'll hold you responsible." He started toward the door, then paused. "Stand in the courtyard until I return. Don't go anywhere." "What?" I whispered. "You heard me." His profile was carved from stone. "The courtyard. Now." “But Vincent…” He left. Just walked out with Camilla bleeding in his arms, Wicket trailing behind him like a loyal shadow. The front door slammed, and then there was only silence and the fading sound of the ambulance. My legs barely held me as I stood. The grand foyer spun slightly, and I pressed one hand against my stomach. The courtyard. Outside, where the afternoon sun did nothing to warm the air. Where household staff and anyone passing by would see me standing there like a criminal awaiting judgment. But why am I standing here? I didn’t do anything wrong, I didn’t push Camilla. But what choice did I have? I walked through the house on numb legs, past rooms filled with expensive furniture and family photos that didn't include me. I'd thought marrying into it would finally give me a home. I'd been so stupid. The wind bit through my thin sweater immediately. I wrapped my arms around myself and took my place in the center of the courtyard, visible from every window of the main house. My hand drifted to my stomach again, to the secret I'd been holding for two weeks. "But I'm pregnant too," I whispered to the empty air. My breath came out in small pants. "I'm carrying your child, Vincent."