In his mind, I should have fallen apart. Screamed. Thrown things. Made a scene.
I turned and walked away. I had barely reached the foot of the stairs when Patrick's voice carried after me.
"Have the nursery cleared out. The baby will sleep there."
I whipped around, my voice rising before I could stop it.
"On what grounds?"
I had stayed up countless nights for that room. Visited store after store. Arranged every detail with my own hands. Every inch of it held the hope I'd carried for my child.
June immediately lowered her head.
"If Serena doesn't want to, it's fine. We can take the guest room."
Patrick's expression hardened. His voice turned to ice.
"No. Your health is fragile, and the baby is too young. The Harding heir is not sleeping in a guest room."
The housekeeper headed upstairs at once. I ran after her.
I stood there and watched as everything I had prepared for my baby was carried out, piece by piece.
The pain went so deep it turned numb.
I spent the entire night packing up the baby's things.
By the time dawn broke through the windows, I was so exhausted I finally fell asleep.
When I woke again it was already the next day. I went downstairs to find something to eat.
"Serena."