In no time, all the photos were completely dismantled.
Immediately after, Gillian watched as the workers hauled in a new set of framed pictures and began mounting them on the walls.
They were photos of York and Hailey. Within minutes, the entire wall was covered with their smiling faces.
York spoke with chilling indifference. "There. That's much better."
His calm tone drove into her chest, every word morphing into a jagged blade that twisted in her heart until it bled.
Gillian sank onto the sofa, a dull ache throbbing in her lower abdomen. She pressed her hand against her stomach, taking deep breaths to steady her fraying emotions.
The concealed waves of pain brought a fine sheen of cold sweat to her forehead.
Once the workers finished hanging the photos, they packed up and left.
Susan looked at Gillian's pale face with deep concern. "Ma'am, are you—"
"Don't call me ma'am," Gillian cut in, her voice unnervingly detached. "The woman in those pictures is the real Mrs. Foster."
Susan panicked as she noticed the color draining from Gillian's face. "Miss... Miss Jordan... Are you feeling unwell?"
"I'm fine," Gillian gritted through her teeth. "Just my period. Cramps."
She couldn't let York discover she was pregnant, or he would undoubtedly force her to terminate it.
If she lost this baby, considering her severely compromised health, her chances of ever conceiving again were practically zero. Her body simply couldn't handle it.
"What could possibly be wrong with her? She spent the entire evening being entertained by two men. I'm sure she enjoyed every second of it."
York stood on the second floor, his gaze sweeping over Gillian's face with icy contempt. "Screaming for a divorce, acting like you're desperate to jump out of a fire pit. Have I really treated you so terribly that you can't wait to get away from me?"
"You ungrateful parasite."

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