Chapter 3

Dessie POV

I carried the secret in my stomach like a heavy, jagged stone.

I had spent the night at a cheap hotel near the office. The room smelled of stale cigarettes and bad choices, and the walls were paper-thin.

I could hear the traffic outside, relentless and loud, matching the chaos in my mind. I hadn't slept a wink.

I went to work early. My goal was simple: clear out my desk before anyone else arrived. I wanted to disappear like smoke before the fire could catch me.

I was passing the executive conference room when I heard voices. The door was cracked open just an inch, spilling light into the dim hallway.

"You're being cruel, Craig," a man said. It was Elek Preston, the Vice President-the man who had wanted me for the Chimera Project.

"I'm being efficient," Craig's voice replied. It was smooth, unbothered, the voice he used when closing a deal. "Dessie served her purpose. She helped me stabilize the backend operations while I focused on sales. Now I need the Murphy connection. Chanel is the strategic play."

I frozen. My hand hovered over the door handle, trembling.

"She's your wife," Elek said. "She loves you."

"She loves the idea of me," Craig scoffed. "She's compliant, Elek. Talented, sure. But she has no spine. I need a partner with teeth. Chanel has teeth."

"You manipulated her into signing those papers," Elek said. His voice was low, dangerous.

"Business is manipulation," Craig countered effortlessly. "Besides, I gave her a payout. She should be grateful. She was holding me back. I don't want her dragging me down with her mediocrity."

Mediocrity.

The word hit me like a physical blow.

I had built the code that saved his last three projects. I had stayed up until dawn fixing his mistakes, making him look like a genius while I remained invisible.

I felt a sharp cramp in my abdomen. I leaned against the wall, trying to breathe through the nausea.

"And if she fights you?" Elek asked.

"She won't," Craig said, dismissive. "She's too weak. And if she tries, I'll bury her. Chanel has lawyers that eat people like Dessie for breakfast."

I walked away. I didn't make a sound. My heels sank into the carpet, ghostly and silent.

I went to the stairwell and sat on the cold concrete steps, shivering despite the heat of the building.

I put my hand on my stomach.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

I couldn't let this child exist. Not with his blood. Not with his cruelty woven into its DNA. If I kept this baby, I would be tied to Craig forever. He would use it. He would leverage it. He would turn this child into another tool to control me.

I pulled out my phone and called the clinic.

"I need an appointment," I said. My voice was steady, detached. It didn't sound like mine. "Today. As soon as possible."

"We have an opening at ten," the receptionist said.

"I'll be there."

Next, I called a lawyer. I didn't call the family friend we used for our taxes. I called Petra, a woman known for her scorched-earth policy.

"I want to file," I told her. "And I want him to know I'm not asking for anything. I'm demanding a complete severance."

"We can get you alimony," Petra said, her tone professional.

"No," I said. "I don't want his money. I want my name off everything he touches. I want to be a ghost to him."

My phone rang. It was Craig.

I stared at the screen. His face popped up-a photo from a picnic two years ago. He looked happy. It was a perfect, curated lie.

I answered.

"Dessie," he said. "Where are you? People are asking."

"I'm busy," I said.

"I need you to sign one more thing," he said, impatience creeping in. "Just a formality for the transfer of the car title."

I heard a giggle in the background. "Craig, stop it," a female voice whispered. Chanel.

He was with her. Right now. While talking to me.

"I'm not signing anything else, Craig," I said.

"Don't be difficult," he snapped. "I can wire you another ten thousand. For your trouble."

"Keep your money," I said, my voice cold steel. "You're going to need it for the lawyers."

"What?"

"I heard you," I said. "With Elek. I heard everything."

Silence. Heavy and suffocating.

"Dessie, you're misunderstanding," he started, shifting into damage control mode.

"No," I said. "I finally understand perfectly."

I hung up.

I went to the clinic. The waiting room was quiet, sterile. I filled out the forms mechanically.

When they called my name, I stood up. I didn't look back.

The procedure was quick. It was painful, but the physical pain was a distraction from the gaping hole in my chest.

When I woke up from the anesthesia, I felt empty. Hollowed out.

But I also felt light. Unburdened.

I walked out of the clinic. The sun was blinding, washing out the world in white.

I hailed a cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"The future," I wanted to say.

"The lawyer's office," I said instead.

I checked my phone. Five missed calls from Craig. One text.

We need to talk. Don't do anything stupid.

I deleted the thread.

I wasn't stupid anymore. I was done.