The Nine-Week Lie

Summary

When my rival sneered that I was probably a thirty-year-old virgin, I dug my nails into my own neck until four red crescents bloomed on my skin.

“See this?” I purred, tilting my head. “My boyfriend has a thing for biting.”

He let out a short, derisive laugh. “Please, Sloane. What man would ever want you?”

Later, when I was sobbing outside an OB/GYN clinic, that same rival appeared, his face a thundercloud.

“Who’s the bastard? I’ll kill him.” He clenched his fists. “Stop crying. You and the baby… I’ll take you both.”