I pointed at her stomach.
“Are you pregnant?”
“No.”
I blinked.
“What?”
She lifted her sweater slightly and tapped the bump.
“Fake.”
Relief hit me so hard I nearly got angry.
Then confusion replaced it.
“You’re pretending?”
“I’m testing him.”
Sarah explained everything.
The moment Nicholas believed she was pregnant, he transformed.
Suddenly he was attentive.
Helpful.
Affectionate.
He brought her tea.
Rubbed her feet.
Talked excitedly about nurseries.
And then came the questions.
Questions about property.
Questions about investments.
Questions about whether certain assets should be transferred into both their names for the sake of family security.
Apparently, family security involved giving a financially irresponsible man access to her wealth.
“I wanted to believe I was wrong,” Sarah admitted.
“I wanted to think he loved me.”
“But the second he thought there was a baby, it was like watching a script start running.”
I understood immediately.
“So why am I here?”
“Because I’m ending it.”
She leaned forward.
“And I need your help.”
Then she revealed the plan.
Nicholas had organized an elaborate gender reveal party.
There would be decorations.
Food.
Cake.
A smoke cannon.
The entire spectacle.
Sarah wanted him to enjoy every second of it.
Then, at the perfect moment, she wanted me to stand up and announce that the baby was mine.
That she and I had secretly gotten back together.
That the child Nicholas was celebrating didn’t belong to him.
