Honestly, even if Mrs. Mercer hadn''t made a move, James had no intention of letting Patti Yale off the hook. He just hadn''t expected his wife to beat him to the punch. It was a relief, really. All he had to do now was keep Mrs. Mercer happy, and she would handle the rest, saving him a world of trouble.


    If he went after Patti himself, he''d have to deal with Hawthorne''s fury. Whether Hawthorne''s feelings for Patti were real or not, James figured it was better to be cautious. But with his foolish wife taking the lead, things were different. Backed by her powerful father, she wouldn''t give a damn about Hawthorne. When the dust settled, the me would fall squarely on her, not him. The thought made James even more smug. He''d made his money and dodged the consequences.


    On his way out of town, he saw an ambnce speeding toward Mrs. Mercer''s vi and couldn''t help but smirk. For now, he''d have to tolerate that pig of a woman. He wondered if Patti had bled out. It would be for the best if she were dead; that way, Hawthorne would never find out the child she''d been carrying was his. Grinning, James drove west.


    Meanwhile, Hawthorne returned to the vi to check on Gwh. She had just finished her meal and retreated upstairs to paint again. When Butler Parham saw Hawthorne, he hurried over. "Mr. Everhart, Ms. Everhart is awake and has eaten, but she still seems very unwell these past few days. Should we have a doctor look at her? Though, I don''t think we should let her know. Thest time she felt sick, we gave her an IV drip, and she became suspicious that we were trying to harm her."


    Hawthorne hadn''t realized things had gotten so serious. He crept upstairs, careful not to be discovered. Luckily, the door to the second-floor room was ajar. Pushing it open gently, he saw the woman he loved, her belly showing a slight curve, sitting before arge canvas, engrossed in her work. As he drew closer, he saw she was painting two cherubic little angels basking in an exceptionally warm sunlight. The two children were adorable, looking just like Gwh herself. The two girls were nestled together. Hawthorne understood. Gwh was imagining what their children would look like.


    He loved the idea of daughters, but he secretly hoped for a boy and a girl—a perfect pair. He stood quietly behind her, watching as she delicately sketched the children''s faces. He lost track of time until Gwh suddenly flinched as if startled. The brush fell from her hand, and the paints spilled. When she turned, she looked at Hawthorne in terror, as if she''d seen a ghost. "You... what are you doing here? Who let you in? What do you want?" The fear in Gwh''s eyes was a knife in Hawthorne''s heart. How had his Gwyn be like this? She looked at him with such terror, as if he were a demon about to devour her.


    Hawthorne bent down, picked up the fallen brush, and ced it back in its holder in front of her. A bitter smile touched his lips as he looked at Gwh. "Things were quiet at the office, so I came back to see you. Did you paint this? How long have you been working on it? It''s beautiful. Are they our daughters? Look, their faces are just like yours. They''re so beautiful, like little angels. They''ll bring so much joy to our little family. You want two daughters, don''t you?" Hawthorne''s eyes were full of tenderness, but Gwh''s were filled with defensiveness. “They''re not *our* daughters. They''re *my* daughters."


    Gwh suddenly tore the unfinished painting from the easel, rolled it into a tube with lightning speed, and hid it behind her back. Hawthorne was stunned by her reaction. The raw defensiveness in her eyes was a sharp, painful sting. He reached out to touch her head, but his hand froze mid-air. Gwh had taken a step back, stumbling so hard she nearly knocked over the easel behind her. The look on her face was one of pure disgust and resistance. “You still haven''t said what you came up here for. If you have no business, please leave. I know you have a child with someone else. You don''t want our babies, but they are mine, and this belly is mine. Don''t even think about hurting them."