Chapter 3

Audrey's POV:

A few days later, a package arrived at my temporary apartment, forwarded from the mansion. My heart leaped into my throat. It was from Donovan. My hands trembled as I tore it open. Inside, I found the shredded separation papers, meticulously pieced back together with tape, then sealed with a single, blood-red wax stamp. A chilling message. He wasn't giving up.

A wave of nausea swept over me, a bitter taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with pregnancy and everything to do with him. My stomach churned, the betrayal a festering wound in my gut. He was playing a dangerous game, one I hadn't even known I was a player in until now.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number. My stomach dropped as I read it. "Audrey, darling. Heard you' re going through a rough patch. Don' t worry, some sacrifices are necessary for true love. Donovan and I are stronger than ever. Good luck with... everything." It was Jazmine. Her words, dripping with false sympathy, twisted the knife deeper.

I scrolled through my social media, a morbid curiosity overriding my common sense. There they were. Donovan and Jazmine, beaming, hand-in-hand, at the opening of our newest restaurant, "The Golden Spoon." The very concept, the name, the signature dishes-all mine. Now, Jazmine stood beside him, bathed in the glow of my stolen creation. Her arm was linked through his, her head resting on his shoulder. My heart seized in my chest. Had they been doing this all along?

I remembered subtle jabs, veiled compliments from Jazmine over the years. "Oh, Audrey, your palate is so unique, so... daring. Sometimes I worry it's too daring for the average investor." Or Donovan, "Jazmine has such a keen business sense. She really understands the market, the commercial viability of things." They had systematically undermined my confidence, slowly eroding my professional standing, preparing the ground for this takeover.

Later that day, Jazmine' s name flashed across my phone screen. A voice message. I hesitated, then listened. Her voice, once so dear, now sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

"Audrey, honey," she purred, her tone saccharine sweet, "I just wanted to call and check on you. Donovan's been so worried. You know, about the baby. He's so excited to be a father. And I... well, I' m so excited to finally be a mother. Surrogate or not, this child will be loved, Audrey. Loved and cherished. Just as Donovan and I always planned."

There was a cruel, triumphant edge to her voice. "We're going to give him such a wonderful life, a life you could never have provided, running off like a lunatic. Don't you think?" A pause, then a chilling laugh. "Oh, and by the way, I found your recipe journal. It's a goldmine. Thank you, darling. You were always so generous."

The phone slid from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. My world spun. Surrogate. She had said it. Out loud. My stomach clenched, bile rising in my throat. This wasn't just a betrayal; it was an abomination.

A new text message notification. I reluctantly picked up the phone. It was a picture. Jazmine, radiant, in a flowing white dress, her hand delicately placed on her slightly swollen stomach, a knowing smirk on her face. Beside her, Donovan, his arm protectively around her, a look of adoration in his eyes I had never seen directed at me. The caption underneath read: "Our little miracle. So blessed to finally be a family. Donovan and I can' t wait to welcome our baby... and share our joy with the world."

The world went silent. My own baby stirred within me, a flutter of life in a body that suddenly felt alien, defiled. I ran to the bathroom, collapsing to my knees, throwing up until my throat was raw and my body shook uncontrollably. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my face pale, eyes haunted. I barely recognized the woman staring back. The woman who was so easily used, so utterly disposable.

The raw, primal scream that had been trapped inside me for days finally erupted, tearing through the quiet apartment. I pounded my fists against the tiled floor, the pain a welcome distraction from the agony in my soul. They intended to steal my child, to raise it as their own, to erase my very existence from its future.

A terrifying clarity washed over me. This was a war, and I was vastly outmatched. Donovan' s power, combined with Jazmine' s insidious manipulation, was a force I couldn' t fight in the open. But I wouldn' t let them win. Not my child. Never my child.

I picked up my phone, my fingers still trembling, and typed a message to Jazmine. "Enjoy living with a ghost, Jazmine. Because that' s all I' ll ever be to both of you." I sent it. Then, with a fierce resolve, I blocked both Donovan and Jazmine, severing every digital tie.

I called the moving company, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "I need to move. Immediately. Everything."

I walked through the apartment, picking out only the essentials: clothes, a few cherished photos of my family, the worn recipe journal my grandmother had given me-the real one, not the copy Jazmine had stolen. I left behind the expensive gifts from Donovan, the designer clothes, the jewelry. They were relics of a past I was determined to bury. I looked at my wedding ring, glinting on my finger. With a sharp, decisive motion, I pulled it off and threw it into the trash. The clink of metal against plastic was the sound of a final goodbye.

The movers arrived, efficiently packing the few boxes I had prepared. As they loaded my meager belongings onto the truck, I watched them go, a strange sense of lightness filling me. It was over. The physical ties were severed. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

I settled into a new, anonymous apartment in a different city, a place where no one knew my name or my past. The quiet suburban street, the unfamiliar faces, the mundane routine-it was a balm to my raw nerves. I started a new job, a small, independent bakery, where I was just Audrey, the talented new chef, not Audrey Nguyen, the culinary prodigy married to a titan.

But the fear lingered, a constant shadow. Donovan and Jazmine had shown their true colors. They were ruthless. They would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. I couldn't risk them finding me, couldn't risk them taking my child. When another threatening text from an unknown number arrived, vaguely hinting at "consequences," I simply deleted it, blocked the number, and buried myself deeper in my new anonymity. My resolve hardened. I would protect my baby. I would disappear so completely, they would think I was dead.