The Rejected Principessa Returns novel Chapter 67

Chapter 1

Right when I was due, my husband Nathan Hale brought his parents over to stay.

The very next day, his mother, Sophie Hale, announced she was canceling the ten-thousand-dollar maternity

retreat I had booked.

“You young people just throw money away. Nathan may earn well, but not well enough for you to waste it like

this!”

Her words stung, but I kept my voice even.

“My parents paid for that. They wanted…”

Before I could finish, she was pointing right in my face.

“Don’t hide behind your parents! You married into this family, you are one of the Hales now. There is no yours

and mine!”

“A woman who doesn’t even work doesn’t need a luxury facility. That’s not how the Hales do things.”

“Think you’re special just for having a baby? If you can’t even give us a son, let’s see if you still dare to act so

proud.”

I was furious. We had a huge fight, and the stress sent me straight into labor and to the hospital.

After our son was born, Nathan, who had always doted on me, became a different person.

He berated me for disrespecting his mother. Then, while I was still recovering, he took paternity leave and

flew off on vacation with his parents.

He called it a lesson, saying I needed to stay home alone with the baby to learn how hard it is to be a mother.

The audacity made me laugh. I immediately called my real estate agent.

He wanted me to learn how hard it is? Oh, I learned.

And I learned that this apartment, a wedding gift from my parents, needed to be returned to them.

Nathan and his father were out, leaving Sophie at home to “watch” me.

I’d just settled onto the sofa to stream a show, but she waved me over.

“Come look at this debit card. A deposit was supposed to come through today, but I never got the text alert.

I’m a nervous wreck.”

I sighed and took her phone.

“The alerts can be slow. I’ll just install the mobile banking app; checking your statement is the only way to be

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sure.”

She nodded quickly, hovering right over my shoulder, watching my every tap.

A few minutes later, I turned the screen toward her.

“See, Mrs. Hale? Here’s the statement. No deposits today. Are you sure they sent it?”

“That’s impossible!”

She immediately snatched the phone back, her anxiety flaring. She started swiping frantically, griping under

her breath.

“I know I processed the refund! Why isn’t it here?”

“They promised it would arrive the same day! It’s almost nighttime. I knew these agencies were scams.

That’s ten thousand dollars!”

Her panic seemed genuine. When she said “agency,” my own stomach dropped.

I assumed she’d fallen for an elaborate phishing scam, the kind that targets the elderly.

The statement didn’t show any large withdrawals, but I was still worried.

“Mrs. Hale, let’s not jump to conclusions. Just think clearly. What money was this?”

“Who exactly promised you this transfer? We have to know the source before we can figure out what

happened.”

I was debating whether to call Nathan back immediately, or perhaps just call the police.

But Sophie’s voice suddenly shot up, practically screaming at me.

“It’s the money from maternity retreat you booked! I went down there myself this morning and canceled it.”

“The woman guaranteed me the refund would be in my account today. It’s night! Where is it?”

“I told you! Nobody needs to spend that much money on recovery. It had to be a scam. They’ve probably just

run off with the cash!”

I stared at her, utterly floored, certain I must have heard her wrong.

“You… you canceled my maternity retreat?”

She didn’t even flinch, her voice thick with indignation.

“I did! What kind of woman spends ten thousand dollars just to recover from childbirth? I was doing you a

favor!”

My parents had booked that center when I was barely pregnant, reserving a spot over six months in advance.

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They’d vetted the facilities, the nursing staff, the nutritionists.

They did it all so I, their daughter, would have the most professional, stress-free care possible.

I was due any day. She had canceled it without a single word to me.

If I called them now, I’d be at the bottom of a new waitlist. It was too late.

I felt a sharp tightening in my belly. I instinctively cradled my stomach, forcing myself to take a breath.

“How could you do that without asking? The baby is coming now.”

“You canceled maternity retreat… so what am I supposed to do?”

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