Echoes of You (Too Late to Keep Her #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Natalie

"Mrs. Winston, congratulations. You're eight weeks pregnant."

The doctor slid the test results and ultrasound image to the edge of the desk, smiling at me.

"Thank you, Doctor." I took the ultrasound, my eyes glued to that tiny outline.

God. I was going to have a baby.

Richard and I had been married for two years. Our families kept pushing us to produce an heir.

Richard was thirty-five, the new generation head of the Winston family. He needed a child—or several—to carry on his massive business empire and that even more massive surname.

I wanted a child too, but not for legacy or inheritance. I just wanted something small and warm that laughed and cried, something to fill the cold silence of the manor, something to make my marriage better, to make my life happy.

What did Richard want?

I'd always known, just refused to admit it—Richard Winston, my husband, didn't love me all that much.

Ours was an arranged marriage. I'd spent two years trying to become someone Richard could love, but around me, he was like ice that never melted.

Maybe the pregnancy would change things? Maybe he'd warm up, maybe he'd press his ear to my belly like expectant fathers did in movies—though picturing him doing something that tender felt absurd.

I left the exam room and unlocked my phone. Our last exchange was two days old.

Richard: "Arrived in Zurich. Packed meeting schedule. If it's urgent, contact my assistant."

Me: "Okay, get some rest."

Followed by a silly cat emoji he probably never opened.

Should I tell him about the pregnancy now?

My thumb hovered over the screen. I took a breath and started typing.

"I haven't been feeling well lately, so I went to the hospital today. I..."

Deleted.

"Richard, there's something I need to tell you..."

Deleted again. Too stiff.

Then I tried writing something playful, even though he rarely played along.

"Guess what new role you're being promoted to? Hint: not a corporate merger."

I stared at those words and felt my mouth twitch.

Pathetic.

He'd probably send back a question mark, or just call and say in that business-transaction tone, "Natalie, get to the point."

I was still staring at the screen when the VIP elevator chimed. Then, from down the hall, came a low, familiar voice. "How is she?"

Ethelred Hospital's top-floor VIP wing had strict access control. Anyone up here either had money or status. Running into some bigshot wouldn't be surprising.

But this couldn't be.

Instinct beat thought. I jerked back into the corner by the elevator, ducking behind the vending machine, peeking toward my husband.

It really was him.

Richard Winston stood in that hallway like he was lowering the air pressure around him.

Six-foot-three, black overcoat hanging open, a charcoal three-piece suit underneath stretched across those broad shoulders, the fabric pulling tight across his chest, the line from shoulder to waist cutting sharp and clean.

His hair was slicked back, a few strands loose, emphasizing that square jaw and hard profile.

His hands in his pockets, knuckles large, a million-dollar mechanical watch on his wrist.

Even standing there cold and severe, he was devastating to look at.

But why was he here? My Richard should be in a Zurich conference room right now, facing billion-dollar acquisition terms, not standing in a Los Angeles hospital hallway.

Had he never gone to Zurich at all? Did he lie? Why?

Next to Richard stood Nick Harris. I knew him—Richard's college friend, a top surgeon at this hospital, one of the few people Richard called friend.

"Can't believe you'd fly back for a little discomfort. That's over twenty hours in the air, round trip." Nick teased. "Not like you, Richard."

Fly back for discomfort? Was Richard sick?

If he'd rushed back from Switzerland because he was ill and forgot to tell me, I could accept that. But didn't Zurich have hospitals? What kind of terrible condition required only Ethelred Hospital in Los Angeles?

Richard spoke like it was obvious. "Olivia got sick and collapsed in the conference room. She only has me here, so I flew back."

Olivia Carter.

The worry I'd felt about Richard being sick crashed down. It wasn't Richard who was unwell. It was Olivia.

I knew exactly who she was.

Carter family heiress, Cambridge graduate, Richard's key business partner. Supposedly, before Richard and I married, high society had been buzzing that they were close to making it official.

I'd met her a few times—sleek black hair always perfectly styled, sharp elegant features, eyes that could dissect a balance sheet. She looked like the smartest person in any boardroom.

I respected her position and competence, but in my marriage, I'd never worried about her.

My hair was honey-blonde, soft and glossy, warm and approachable. And my body—I had curves Olivia didn't. Those tailored suits she wore would look completely different on me.

Richard was a man. Men's eyes didn't lie. When Olivia and I were in the same room, I knew exactly where his gaze landed.

Before the wedding, there'd been rumors about Olivia and Richard. I'd asked him. He'd denied it. He had no reason to lie. And I'd chosen to believe him.

"Oh, Olivia. That explains it." Nick drew out the words. "Didn't you once admit she was the most suitable match for you? Power couple and all. I always thought you'd marry her. Still do, honestly."

I crushed the test results in my fist. Richard and I were already married. What was Nick even saying?

Richard went quiet for a few seconds. Then I heard him use that market-analysis tone. "If my wife were Olivia, that would be the optimal rational choice. But the Winston family doesn't need a woman to make money, so a wife who's obedient and manageable matters more than any other qualification."

Obedient? Manageable?

My eyes went wide.

Those labels hit like two cold slaps across my face.

God. So Richard only chose me because I was easier to control than Olivia? Really? Was that his honest answer?

Nick chuckled. "Natalie's a bit dull, but at least she never causes trouble. That kind of woman's hard to find."

I hated the people around Richard. This was why. In their eyes, I ranked somewhere near Richard's household staff.

Before marriage, who would've dared call Natalie Green "dull"?

In two years of marriage, I'd worked so hard to restrain myself.

I'd learned all those boring, tedious social protocols because Richard asked.

I'd changed how I dressed. I'd even given up singing.

All of it to become a better Mrs. Winston.

And none of it mattered. To Richard and his friends, I was still no different from something he'd purchased.

I closed my eyes, waiting for Richard's response.

Please. Say something.

Don't let me be this humiliated.

"Since when do you care about this stuff?" Richard clearly wanted to drop it.

But Nick wouldn't let go, his tone carrying that knowing male laugh. "Just curious. You never talk about it. Though I remember you mentioning once that you two are very compatible in bed?"

Richard made a soft sound. "That's true. Otherwise, this marriage would be truly dull."

Boom.

Absurdity and heartbreak got crushed under pure rage.

I wanted to storm out there, stand in front of him, throw what I was holding in his face, and demand answers. Richard Winston, what the hell am I to you? Some legal, convenient sex toy?

My feet moved forward an inch without permission, and in that instant—

"Richard?" Olivia's weak voice came from the room. "Are you out there? I'm thirsty..."

Richard turned immediately, striding toward the room, his tone holding a concern I rarely heard. "I'm here. Don't move. I'll get you water."

The door wasn't fully closed. There was a gap. I don't know how I crept closer.

"You came." Inside, Olivia's voice had more strength than before. "I thought you'd be stuck listening to Nick ramble."

"He talks too much." Richard's voice had lost some of that business-cold edge.

Then the sound of him pouring water for Olivia.

"Your wife doesn't know you're back, does she?"

The moment Olivia finished speaking, Richard responded coolly. "She doesn't need to know."

Their tones were nearly identical. It made Nick laugh.

"Richard, I've known you for years. I always figured you'd end up marrying Olivia.

I even had custom watches made with your names on them as a wedding gift.

Then you turned around and married that boring Natalie woman.

I really couldn't accept it at the time. "

"What's there to accept?" Olivia shrugged casually. "As long as Richard thinks that choice makes him happy."

"Fair enough." Nick shifted position. "Remember graduation night in college?"

Richard and Olivia said nothing, like they were waiting for Nick to continue.

"Richard got pretty drunk that night, said after graduation he'd definitely marry Olivia.

" Nick's laugh grew more teasing. "We all made bets, said if you didn't follow through, you'd still have to fulfill a husband's duties to Olivia after marriage—and you nodded and agreed to it, Richard. Don't pretend you don't remember."

The room went briefly silent.

Then came Olivia's light laugh, like a cat that got the cream. "Don't worry, Nick. Our Richard keeps his word. Last week, he and I completed that bet at the Royal Saoiy Hotel."

Richard didn't deny it.

A husband's duties... even an idiot knew what they'd done in that hotel. Richard had actually slept with Olivia?

Scalding tears surged up. I bit down hard on my lip.

I'd found out about my pregnancy the same day I found out my husband had cheated.

Pathetic, Natalie. What is this? You're like a bad joke.

After a long moment, I slowly straightened from the door, shoved the test results in my pocket, and practically ran out of the hospital.

Outside, cold wind mixed with rain hit my face. I didn't open an umbrella. I just plunged into the downpour.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Richard: "Zurich meetings wrapped early. I'll be back in LA in a week. Need me to bring anything? Joseph says your appetite's been off."

A week... he planned to stay with Olivia for seven days.

I stared at those words, at my wrecked reflection in the screen, and suddenly remembered the first time I met Richard two years ago...

That day, I'd been scheduled for a lounge performance, but my father called last minute, demanding I attend a charity gala with him. He wanted to introduce me to the Winston family heir.

I knew what my father meant. He wanted me to marry this heir. And I knew if I refused, my father would have endless criticism and complaints. So before going, I'd planned exactly how to ruin that first impression.

But the second I walked into that gala, Richard consumed my entire field of vision.

He was incredibly tall, holding a champagne flute in those large-knuckled hands, hair slicked back perfectly, exposing his broad forehead and sharp brow bones and jawline, the tailored black tuxedo nearly straining across those broad shoulders.

Then Richard's gray-blue eyes landed on me.

Just that one look.

My heart stopped.

All those plans to sabotage the arrangement vanished completely. Only one raw thought remained.

I wanted him.

I knew I was done for. I'd fallen in love with Richard. Love made me willing to do anything for him.

Later, before the honeymoon even ended, he had his butler, Joseph, remove all my "inappropriate" clothes. Bright yellow dresses, patterned socks, sequined ballet flats—all gone.

"You need to adjust to the role of Mrs. Winston. Joseph will handle your wardrobe from now on," he said, fastening his cufflinks without even glancing at me. "Those childish clothes can stay at home."

But he was rarely home.

Our most frequent interactions happened at the dinner table, limited to weather and social schedules. He never asked what I'd done that day, didn't care what scent of perfume I'd secretly bought, and paid no attention to my preferences.

Our most intimate moments, as he'd said, were in the bedroom. Only then would those distant gray-blue eyes ignite with an almost consuming heat. His hands were strong, his body temperature burning. In those dizzying moments ruled by desire, I'd hallucinate that I was needed, that I was loved.

Not until today did I realize that was just lust. Physical instinct with nothing to do with love.

The screen went dark from lack of use.

I stood on the street, letting rain soak my hair and shoulders.

Fuck "dull." Fuck Mrs. Winston. I wanted to rush home right now and shred every white dress in that closet, then book the fastest flight out of Los Angeles.

But we had a child now. Why did it have to be now?

Rain or tears on my face—I couldn't tell anymore. But I'd bet anything that right now, I looked like a goddamn clown.