Chapter 3

Alex POV

I spent the next morning with my hand resting heavily over my flat stomach, feeling like I was carrying a time bomb instead of a life.

This child... it should have been a miracle.

It should have been the happy ending.

Now, it was just another shackle binding me to a sinking ship.

I needed to know.

I needed to be absolutely certain before I did what I knew I had to do.

Moving on autopilot, I drove to the office again, parking down the street.

I didn't go up this time.

Instead, I waited at the café across the street, the one where Gavin liked to get his mid-morning espresso.

Sure enough, at 10:30, they came out.

Gavin and Eliana.

She was clinging to his arm, laughing at something he said, her head thrown back in a display of perfect, carefree joy.

They looked like a power couple.

They looked like they belonged together.

I slipped into the line behind them, pulling my hat low, praying my sunglasses hid the swollen redness of my eyes.

"She's still there, Gavin," Eliana complained, her voice a high-pitched whine that grated on my nerves. "When is she leaving? The twins are confused. They need their real mother."

"Soon," Gavin assured her, grabbing a napkin. "The lawyers are drafting the papers as we speak. I just need to make sure she doesn't take anything. The pre-nup is solid, but Alex can be stubborn."

"What if she tries to use the twins against us?"

"She can't," Gavin scoffed. "She has no biological claim. And honestly, Eliana, she was just a vessel. A glorified babysitter. You know that. The kids have your genes. That's what matters."

"And what if she gets pregnant?" Eliana asked.

My heart stopped.

Gavin laughed.

"She won't," he said. "I've been careful. Besides, even if she did, do you think I'd want a child with a substitute when I have you?"

Substitute.

Vessel.

Tool.

The words carved themselves into my bones.

He didn't see me as a human being.

He saw me as an appliance he had rented until the owner came back.

Nausea rose in my throat. I turned and walked out of the café.

I didn't confront them.

There was no point in screaming at a wall.

I felt a sharp cramp in my abdomen, a phantom blade twisting in my gut.

I drove straight to the clinic.

I sat in the sterile waiting room, surrounded by women with their own stories, feeling utterly alone amidst the scent of antiseptic and old magazines.

When they called my name, I stood up without hesitation.

I couldn't bring a child into this mess.

I couldn't let Gavin use another innocent life as a pawn.

I couldn't let Eliana raise my child alongside the twins she was already stealing.

I made the appointment for the procedure.

Then I called Maria.

"File it," I said, my voice dead calm.

"File the papers. File for divorce. Today."

"Alex, are you sure?" Maria asked gently. "We can fight for alimony, for-"

"I don't want his money," I cut her off. "I just want out. I want to cut him out of me like a tumor."

My phone beeped.

It was Gavin calling.

I stared at the screen for a long moment before answering.

"Hey," he said, his voice breezy. "Just checking in. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I said.

"Good. Listen, I'm going to be late tonight. Big project."

In the background, I heard a splash.

Then a child's squeal.

"Faster, Daddy! Push me faster!"

It was Kenneth.

He wasn't at work.

He was at a pool.

Probably Eliana's pool.

"Sounds like a very demanding project," I said, ice dripping from every syllable.

Gavin didn't even pause. "It is. Boring paperwork. Anyway, I transferred some more money to your account. Buy yourself something to cheer up. You've been so gloomy lately."

"I don't need your money, Gavin."

"Everyone needs money, Alex. Don't be difficult. I'm doing this for us."

"For us," I repeated.

"Exactly. Look, I have to go. Love you."

The lie slipped out of his mouth so easily.

"Goodbye, Gavin," I said.

I hung up.

I didn't say "I love you" back.

I would never say those words to him again.

I walked out of the clinic, the appointment card burning a hole in my pocket.

A nurse walked by, chatting in hushed tones with a colleague.

"Did you see that guy on the news? The Dunlap CEO? Spotted with that model again. They say his wife is just a showpiece."

"Poor woman," the other nurse said, shaking her head. "She probably doesn't even know."

I stopped walking.

I stood in the middle of the hallway, people rushing past me like a river around a stone.

I wasn't the poor woman.

I wasn't the victim.

Not anymore.

I took a deep breath, the smell of antiseptic filling my nose.

I was going to burn his house down.

Metaphorically speaking.

But first, I had to survive the fire he had started.