place where he slept with another woman.
The woman then stared at Callista and became somewhat stunned. It wasn’t surprising she’d mistaken Wren for Callista.
After all, Wren bore an uncanny resemblance to Callista at 24, the year she first met Luther.
“I guess men are all the same,” the woman murmured. Her tone turned despondent.
“At least Mr. Spencer is somewhat decent. He probably just wants a child too badly, even going so far as to find someone who looks just like you.
“Why not let it go? Pretend you don’t know. Life will go on as usual.”
“It wouldn’t be the same,” Callista said quietly.
The fact that Luther sought out a woman who resembled her didn’t make her feel grateful; it only made her feel disgusted.
After leaving the rose garden, Callista went to the hospital and collected pre-procedure medication for an abortion.
She placed the medicine on the coffee table and stared at it for a long time. She was still overwhelmed by a suffocating ache.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Luther rushed in with his shirt buttoned unevenly. He tripped and nearly knocked over a chair in his haste.
He scanned her from head to toe with a pale face. “Honey, why did you go to the hospital?”
