Part 2Not Too Dirty For Him Now

After maneuvering Calvin into his bedroom, I retreated to my own to wash the evening off my skin.

We slept in separate rooms. It was an unspoken rule. Calvin only came to my bed every other Friday. He called it "fulfilling our marital obligations," treating my body like a recurring meeting on his calendar.

But whenever he drank, the rigid, untouchable Calvin melted away. He would become inexplicably clingy, sneaking into my room, wrapping his large frame around me, and refusing to let go until morning.

Just like tonight.

I had just slipped beneath the duvet when the door clicked open. Before I could process the shadow moving across the rug, heavy arms banded around my waist. He pulled my back flush against his chest, burying his face in my neck.

He let out a long, satisfied exhale, and within seconds, his breathing leveled out. He was asleep.

In the past, even if the sharp scent of scotch turned my stomach, I would have talked myself into staying. Just go to sleep, I’d tell myself. The Montgomerys gave you a life. You owe them this much.

But tonight, the debt felt paid. I didn't want to endure it anymore.

I wrestled myself out of his iron grip. If he wanted this bed so badly, he could have it. The Montgomery estate had no shortage of guest rooms.

The moment I stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, I stopped. Hudson was standing by my door, his small brow furrowed in concern as he peered past me into the room, looking for his father.

I forced a soft smile, kneeling down to be at eye level with my son. I reached out to smooth his messy hair. "Hudson, why are you still awake, sweetie? You have school tomorrow. You need to get to bed."

Hudson swatted my hand away. He glared at me with a pair of icy blue eyes that were a terrifying replica of Calvin’s.

"Hermosa, you don't get to tell me what to do."

Hermosa. Not Mom.

Ever since the kids at his elite prep school had cruelly pointed out that his parents didn't love each other, and he realized my pregnancy was the only reason I was allowed into the Montgomery family, Hudson had blamed me.

He conveniently forgot the countless nights I had sat awake with him when he had the flu. He forgot how he used to curl into my lap, burying his face in my chest, whispering that I was his favorite person in the whole world.

Now, his greatest wish was that someone, anyone else, was his mother.

Watching his small silhouette retreat down the grand hallway, I let out a shaky breath, stood up, and walked into the guest room across the hall.

I locked the door, sat on the edge of the mattress, and dialed the number of my former boss, Camille.

"Camille," I said, my voice finally steady. "I've made up my mind. I'll go with you to Paris."