Chapter 4 4

The siren wailed, fading down the long driveway lined with oak trees.

Dillard stood on the porch. The ambulance was a shrinking white dot. He should be on it. Husbands went on the ambulance.

"She is manipulative, Dillard," Antonina said from the doorway. Her voice was calm, reasonable. "It's a classic ploy. She creates a scene to avoid the divorce talk."

Dillard looked at his hands. They were shaking slightly. He shoved them into his pockets. "You really think so? There was so much blood, Mother."

"I know so. Women like her survive by their wits. Blood packets are easy to buy. Go to the office. Don't let her win."

Dillard clenched his jaw. He turned and walked to his Aston Martin. He didn't go to the hospital. He drove to Bentley Tower, desperate to believe the lie because the alternative was too heavy to carry.

In the emergency room of Mount Sinai, chaos reigned.

Erica drifted in and out of consciousness. The lights were blinding.

"No fetal heartbeat," a voice said. It sounded far away.

"We need to operate. Dilation and curettage. Immediately."

Erica opened her eyes. A doctor was leaning over her, looking grim. "Mrs. Bentley? I'm so sorry. You've lost the baby."

Baby? Erica whispered. She hadn't known. Her binding agent must have failed weeks ago. The fatigue, the nausea... she had attributed it to stress and the toxins.

"We ran your blood panel," the doctor said, his brow furrowed. "The toxicology report is showing a severe reaction. There are high concentrations of an unknown chemical compound interacting with your hormones. It looks like..."

"Mifepristone," Erica rasped, her mind racing despite the pain. She recognized the symptoms now. The cramping intensity, the specific nature of the blood flow. Antonina hadn't just spiked her vitamins with suppressants this time. She had given her an abortifacient.

The doctor looked startled. "We haven't identified it yet, but the effects are consistent with a chemical termination. And because of the toxicity levels in your blood, your clotting factors are compromised. We can't use general anesthesia. It's too risky with your current vitals."

Erica stared at the ceiling. Vitamins. Karie. Antonina.

They killed it. They killed her child before she even knew it existed. And Dillard... Dillard who let them feed her poison.

Rage, hot and purifying, burned through the grief.

"Do the surgery," she said.

"We can wait until you stabilize to use anesthesia," the doctor suggested gently. "It will be incredibly painful without it."

"Do it now," Erica said. Her voice was iron. "I want to feel it."

She wanted to carve this pain into her memory. She wanted to remember exactly what loving Dillard Bentley had cost her.

At the office, Dillard stared at a merger file. The words swam. He picked up his phone. No missed calls from the hospital.

Lloyd, his assistant, walked in. "Boss. The hospital called."

"And?" Dillard asked, feigning indifference.

"They didn't give details. Privacy laws. But... it sounded serious."

Dillard felt a twinge of unease. He pushed it down.

His phone rang. The screen flashed: Brisa.

"Dillard!" Brisa's voice was high, panicked. "There's a man outside the auction venue. He's taking photos of me. I'm scared."

The unease vanished, replaced by the familiar drive to protect. "Stay inside. I'm coming."

He grabbed his keys. He didn't think about the ambulance. He thought about the woman who had supposedly saved him from the ocean. He ran out the door, leaving his wife to bleed alone.