When Janetta stepped out, his arm would naturally slide around her waist, projecting the ultimate protector's stance.
For Helena, simply standing by the door and waiting was apparently the greatest act of mercy he could offer.
Hah—
And all this hollow mercy, all this weaponized tenderness, was strictly a performance meant for Janetta to see.
Helena knew she was nothing but a tool, but every time she thought of those paparazzi photos, it hurt.
She still felt a phantom pain ripping through her chest.
Perhaps she had just loved him for far too long.
Wounds this deep could never truly fade without leaving a nasty scar.
Over the years, however, she had mastered the art of pretending.
She stepped out of the car in silence.
Because of her heavy belly, her movements were clumsy and slow.
He didn't rush her; he just stood to the side and waited.
It wasn't until both her feet were on the pavement that he finally turned and led the way.
She followed quietly behind him.
By the time they entered the clubhouse, a sizable crowd had already gathered.
Seeing him walk in with her no longer caused much of a stir.
"Mr. Hayes, Mrs. Hayes," the group greeted warmly.
The more eager executives chimed in, "When is Mrs. Hayes due? I'll have to make sure I prepare a generous gift for the occasion."
"Judging by the bump, it looks like a boy! But boy or girl, being born into the Hayes family guarantees they'll be royalty."
...
Helena simply offered a polite, practiced smile.
A caddy hurried over to hand Sebastian his clubs.
The group seamlessly shifted the conversation to business and the game ahead.
Eventually, they made their way out to the greens.
Helena was escorted to a shaded rest area under a large canopy.
The golf course waiter brought over a spread of snacks almost immediately.
She stared at it in silence.
Arranged perfectly on the table were elaborate fruit juices, primarily guava and strawberry, with yogurt artistically swirled around the rims for aesthetics.


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