Forced To Marry My Cousin's Fiancé

Chapter 41: Chapter 41

The morning sun filtered softly through the bedroom curtains, casting long, golden geometric patterns across the hardwood floor. Lane stood quietly in front of the ornate vanity mirror, her hands methodically pinning up her thick hair into an elegant, loose updo.

She was already fully dressed in a comfortable yet sophisticated maternity blouse and tailored trousers, prepared to leave for her parents’ house.

The previous night, her parents had called the mansion. The conversation had been warm and filled with the familiar, comforting banter of home, but it carried an underlying purpose: they wanted her to come over and have dinner with them, explicitly asking for Ethan to join as well.

Lane had felt a familiar, nervous flutter in her stomach when she approached Ethan later that evening to ask if he would be available. She had braced herself for a cold brush-off or a clipped excuse about his overwhelming schedule.

To her surprise, he had actually paused his work, looked up from his laptop, and asked what time they were expected. After she nervously recited the hour, he had given a firm, decisive nod and told her he would be there right after work.

That simple reassurance had left a warm, lingering sense of hope in her chest all through the night, making her feel as though perhaps things were finally beginning to shift between them.

As she picked up her handbag from the bed, her phone vibrated sharply in her palm. The screen lit up with Noah’s name, breaking the quiet morning silence.

"Good morning, Noah," Lane said, placing the phone to her ear as she checked her reflection one last time.

"Morning, Lane!" Noah’s cheerful, boisterous voice boomed through the receiver, instantly bringing a small smile to her face.

"Are you free today? I’m actually not that busy for once,so I was thinking I could take you out for a long lunch or maybe a relaxing drive out of the city."

Lane smoothed down the front of her outfit, her smile softening at his constant thoughtfulness.

"That sounds lovely, Noah, but I’m having dinner with my family today, so I’m actually getting ready to leave the house right now."

"Oh, really? I can accompany you if you’d like," Noah offered seamlessly, his tone light but genuinely protective. "You shouldn’t be spending your day driving around by yourself."

"It’s fine, Noah. Really," Lane explained patiently, walking toward the bedroom door.

"I’m going to my parents’ house."

"Even better. I can drive you there so you don’t have to worry about dealing with the midday traffic or finding parking. Consider me your personal chauffeur for the day."

Lane couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his relentless persistence. He always knew how to make her laugh, even when she felt weighed down by the unspoken anxieties of her marriage.

"It’s really fine, Noah. I can handle it myself, but thank you for the offer. I promise I’ll drive safely."

They talked for a few more minutes, sharing lighthearted neighborhood gossip and checking in on each other’s weekly plans before finally hanging up.

Gathering her keys and her bag, Lane descended the grand, sweeping staircase of the mansion. The house was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. In the central living area, she found Aunt Catherine sitting elegantly on the sofa, sipping a cup of herbal tea while reviewing some event invitations.

"Auntie, I’m leaving now," Lane said gently, stepping into the room to announce her departure.

Aunt Catherine looked up, her expression instantly warming into a brilliant smile. "Ah, yes, the dinner with your parents. And what about Ethan? Is he leaving with you?"

"He’ll meet us there," Lane replied, keeping her voice light and steady, desperately wanting to project a sense of normalcy.

"He still has some urgent, last-minute work to finish up back at the corporate office, but he promised he’d come straight to the house after he wraps up his meetings."

"Alright, sweetheart. Make sure you don’t push yourself too hard on the road, and tell your mother I send my warmest regards,"

Aunt Catherine said, reaching out to pat Lane’s hand with genuine maternal affection. "Take care of yourself and the little one."

Lane thanked her warmly, walked out to her sedan in the driveway, and started the engine. The drive across the city was peaceful, giving her time to think. On the way, she passed by a high-end local boutique grocery store.

A sudden wave of nostalgia hit her, and on an impulse, she pulled into the parking lot. Wanting to make the evening truly special and deeply personal, she spent an hour browsing the aisles, carefully selecting fresh, organic produce, imported spices, and premium ingredients so she could help her mother prepare her favorite childhood comfort dishes.

When she finally pulled up the long, winding driveway of her parents’ sprawling estate, the heavy iron gates rolled open to welcome her. Before she could even turn off the ignition, she was greeted by one of the family’s longtime housemaids, Maria, who came rushing down the front stone steps.

"Welcome home, Miss Lane!" Maria said brightly, her face creasing into a joyful grin. As she opened the car door, her eyes immediately darted to the large, overflowing paper bags sitting in the passenger seat.

"Oh, goodness, let me help you carry all of these groceries inside. You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy in your condition, Miss Lane. Your mother would absolutely have my head if she caught you carrying these!"

"Thank you, Maria," Lane laughed softly, stepping out of the vehicle and stretching her back. "I might have gone a little overboard at the market."

The moment Lane walked through the heavy, mahogany front doors, the familiar scent of lavender and polished wood enveloped her. Her mother came hurrying out of the dining room, her face lighting up with instant relief and happiness. She rushed into the foyer and pulled Lane into a warm, fiercely tight embrace.

Lane melted into the hug, closing her eyes and breathing in the comforting, unchanging scent of her childhood home.

Resting her chin gently on her mother’s shoulder, Lane looked toward the quiet study and asked, "Where’s Dad?"

"He had a few unexpected administrative things to take care of at his office, but he promised he’ll be back well before the food is ready," her mother explained, pulling back to gently cup Lane’s cheeks. Her eyes, filled with maternal instinct, instantly flicked to the empty hallway behind Lane, searching the doorway. "Where is Ethan? Did he not come with you?"

"He’s still at the office," Lane said quickly, keeping her smile bright and her voice perfectly modulated to prevent any hint of worry from leaking out.

"There was a massive project deadline today, so he’s tying up some loose ends. He’ll come by a little later tonight."

"Well, as long as he makes it," her mother said with a soft sigh, linking her arm through Lane’s. "Come along then. Let’s get these ingredients into the kitchen."

The two women spent the next few hours working side by side in the spacious, sunlit kitchen. They unpacked the fresh vegetables, seasoned the meat, and set the pots to simmer. The kitchen quickly filled with the rich, savory aromas of roasting herbs and homemade broth. As they worked, the environment was therapeutic for Lane. Her mother chatted endlessly, asking detailed, protective questions about the pregnancy—checking on how Lane was sleeping, making sure she wasn’t experiencing too much fatigue, and asking if she had any strange cravings.

Every ten minutes, her mother would gently take a knife or a bowl out of Lane’s hands, guiding her toward a kitchen stool and insisting that she take regular breaks so she wouldn’t overexert her body.

Time slipped away unnoticed, and the bright, amber afternoon shifted into a deep, cool twilight. True to his word, Lane’s father arrived home just as the last remnants of daylight vanished from the horizon. He greeted Lane with a proud, gentle kiss on the forehead, his eyes shining as he looked at his daughter.

Lane and her mother began the meticulous process of setting the grand dining table, laying out the pristine porcelain plates, arranging the fine crystal glassware, and polishing the silver cutlery until it gleamed under the warm chandelier.

Everything was perfect. The food was warm, the house was beautiful, and the family was gathered.

But as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed, officially striking 7:00 PM, the heavy wooden chair directly next to Lane remained completely empty.

Her mother glanced anxiously toward the front door, a slight shadow of concern and unspoken judgment crossing her elegant features. "Lane, ... is Ethan still on his way?"

"He is," Lane said instantly, the words rushing out of her mouth a little too fast. She forced a bright, unwavering smile to her lips, trying desperately to mask the sudden, tight knot of anxiety formatting deep in her stomach.

"He had a very important corporate board meeting late this afternoon. It’s probably just running over time, or he’s caught in the evening rush-hour traffic."

They sat down at the table, attempting to engage in light conversation, but the atmosphere had grown undeniably tense. The beautifully prepared dishes began to give off less steam, growing subtly cooler under the dining room lights.

After twenty minutes of heavy, strained silence, her mother looked across the table at her, her eyes soft with a mixture of pity and concern.

"Why don’t you give him a quick call, sweetie? Just to check in and see how far away he is. We can wait a bit longer if he’s close."

"Okay, I’ll go check on him," Lane murmured, her smile feeling tighter now.

She picked up her phone from the table, stood up, and quietly walked out of the dining room. She bypassed the living area entirely, needing to escape the watchful, worried eyes of her parents, and walked all the way to the quiet, drafts-swept entrance of the house.

Standing beneath the golden glow of the front porch light, the cool night air hitting her bare arms, Lane stared down at her phone screen. The glass felt freezing against her fingertips. She unlocked the device, opened her contacts list, and let her thumb hover over Ethan’s name. The digital letters looked stark and mocking in the darkness.

She stared at the call button, but she didn’t press it. She couldn’t.

He blocked me, she reminded herself bitterly, a sudden, sharp ache blooming in her chest at the memory of the day she had realized her own husband had restricted her line of communication. If she called, it would never go through.

She would only be met with a hollow, robotic rejection message.

Instead of dialing, she lowered the phone to her side and simply stood by the large glass panels of the front doors, looking out into the pitch-black driveway. She watched the distant, blurry headlights of passing cars cutting through the dark highway in the distance.

Each time a pair of lights slowed down near their neighborhood road, she held her breath, her heart leaping into her throat, praying that the vehicle would turn up their long, tree-lined driveway. But car after car simply sped past, their engines whining in the night before fading into silence.

By the time she looked down at her phone again, the digital clock officially struck 8:00 PM. A whole hour had passed while she stood in the freezing cold.

The reality finally settled deep into her bones, heavy and suffocating. He’s not coming, she thought, a profound sense of exhaustion washing away the last remnants of her hope. This is the second time.

Standing there completely isolated, she couldn’t stop her treacherous mind from drifting backward, unearthing the raw, hollow disappointment of her last prenatal checkup. He had promised to be there for that, too. He had looked her in the eye and given his word, only to leave her sitting entirely alone in a waiting room filled with happy couples, enduring the sympathetic glances of the nursing staff.

The heavy, solid mahogany front door clicked open loudly behind her. Her mother stepped out onto the concrete porch, a thick, knit wool shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She took one look at Lane’s solitary figure and sighed softly.

"Come inside, Lane. It’s getting entirely too cold out here. It’s not good for you or the baby."

Lane swallowed the thick lump in her throat and slowly turned around to face her. When their eyes met under the harsh porch light, Lane saw the unmistakable, piercing look of pain in her mother’s eyes. It wasn’t a look of anger directed at Lane, but rather a deep, aching sorrow for her child.

It was the heartbreaking realization of a mother seeing her pregnant daughter stand out in the dark, desperately waiting for a husband who clearly had no intention of showing up.

Unable to bear the overwhelming weight of that pity, Lane quickly averted her eyes, staring blindly down at the porch tiles.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of the wind.

She turned and followed her mother back into the brightly lit, suffocatingly warm dining room.

The joyful, celebratory atmosphere from earlier had completely vanished, replaced by a somber, intensely protective quietness. Her father didn’t ask a single question about Ethan’s absence, nor did he make any harsh comments about his son-in-law’s blatant disrespect. Instead, he maintained a gentle, stoic silence, picked up a ceramic ladle, and pushed a freshly filled bowl toward her.

"Drink the chicken soup, Lane," her father said softly, his voice thick with unexpressed, fierce paternal comfort. "Eat it before it gets completely cold. You need to keep your strength up."

Lane picked up her spoon and forced herself to swallow a few mouthfuls of the rich broth, but it tasted like nothing but ash and the bitter sting of her own crushing disappointment.

She spent the rest of the evening going through the motions, forcing a brave face and small talk to keep her parents from worrying further.

Later that night, after packing up the untouched leftovers and saying her quiet, subdued goodbyes, Lane walked out to her car alone. The drive back to the mansion was a blur of streetlights and dark highways.

This was the second time he had broken his promise, and she was beginning to realize where she truly stood in his life.

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