Chapter 89

The moment Cassandra’s secret spilled into the open felt nothing at all like she had imagined. She had braced herself for anger, for betrayal, even for the slow burn of disappointment in Thomas’s eyes. Instead, she found herself lying on a softly propped pillow, enveloped by the gentle warmth of his hands as they swept through her hair and brushed her cheek. The quiet hum of the hospital monitor beside her seemed to echo the calm in her chest. I’m so lucky, she thought, surprised at the steady cadence of relief that fluttered in her heart. I’m incredibly lucky to have married him.

Thomas bent his head closer, the late-afternoon light spilling around his silhouette like a golden halo. Cassandra studied the angle of his jaw, the way his lashes caught the rays of sun, and marveled again that a man like him—so handsome, so confident—had chosen her. He could have had any woman he wanted. Yet here he was, cupping her face as though she were the rarest treasure he’d ever discovered.