She faced him fully.
“Do you know how this feels? Like another lie.”
His expression softened.
“That was never my intention.”
“But it happened.”
For the first time since their marriage, real hurt stood between them—not fear, not confusion, but hurt.
He admitted something then.
“I needed to know whether someone could care about me without knowing my wealth.”
Catherine laughed bitterly.
“That is ironic.”
“Why?”
“Because I did not even have the choice to care about you.”
That truth struck him hard enough that he had no answer.
Soon enough, Beatice returned—this time dressed more formally, her voice sweeter, her smiles wider, her greed less disguised than ever.
She arrived in Mbarara with Joseph and came straight to the house. Grace asked whether they should be sent away, but Catherine stopped her.
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