Chapter 6 6

The memory of the hospital didn't end there. It dragged Carmen's soul deeper into the nightmare.

Flashback.

The next morning, the hospital room was quiet. The rain had stopped.

The door opened softly. Forrest walked in. He was alone this time. He wasn't wearing a suit. He wore a soft cashmere sweater. In his hands, he held a massive bouquet of white roses-her favorite.

He pulled a chair up to her bed. He didn't mention the lawyer. He didn't mention the security chief.

He picked up an apple from the fruit basket and began to peel it with a small silver knife. His movements were slow, gentle, domestic.

"I remember the first time I saw you," Forrest said softly, his eyes focused on the apple. "At the charity gala in the Hamptons. You were wearing that blue dress. You looked so out of place among all those sharks. I knew I had to protect you."

He handed her a slice of the apple. His fingers brushed against hers. They were warm.

This was Forrest's most dangerous weapon. Gaslighting. He would break her down with cruelty, and just when she was ready to leave, he would drown her in nostalgia and fake tenderness, making her doubt her own sanity.

Carmen's heart, which had died the night before, gave a weak, pathetic flutter. She was so tired. She just wanted the pain to stop.

Forrest saw her shoulders relax. He leaned in, taking her hand in both of his.

"Carmen," he whispered, using his pet name for her. "I need you. I am drowning in this mess. Evelin is just a kid, she's terrified. If you help me do this... if you let us use your things to catch this guy... it will all be over. We can go back to how we were. Just you and me."

He framed the suicide mission not as a sacrifice, but as a team effort. He made her feel essential. He made her feel like she could win his love back by playing the hero.

Carmen looked into his dark, pleading eyes. She felt physically sick to her stomach. She knew it was manipulation. But the exhaustion won. She touched her stomach beneath the blankets. For the sake of the life growing inside her, she just wanted this nightmare to end.

She gave a slow, numb nod.

Forrest exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It felt like ice.

"Thank you," he said briskly, standing up. The tenderness vanished instantly, replaced by business. "I'll have the team coordinate the drop location to pick up your car and coat. You're doing the right thing."

He walked out of the room without looking back.

Carmen sat alone in the quiet room. Her hands shook violently as she grabbed her phone from the bedside table. She couldn't hold it in anymore. She had agreed to his insane plan, but he needed to know the truth. He needed to know he was a father, so he would finally send Evelin away and protect their family.

She dialed Forrest's private number. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

Finally, there was a click.

"Hello?"

It wasn't Forrest. It was a woman's voice. High-pitched, breathy, and dripping with honey.

Evelin.

Carmen's blood turned to ice. She couldn't speak. Her throat locked up.

"Oh, is this Carmen?" Evelin asked innocently. "Forrest left his phone on the nightstand. He's in the shower right now."

Through the receiver, Carmen could hear the sound of running water echoing off expensive marble tiles.

"Do you need me to give him a message?" Evelin purred. "Or is it just another one of your little emergencies?"

Carmen gripped the ultrasound photo she had hidden under her pillow so hard the paper crumpled. She opened her mouth, but only a dry sob came out.

In the background of the call, the bathroom door opened. The water stopped.

"Who is it?" Forrest's voice echoed. He sounded annoyed.

"It's Carmen, darling," Evelin called out sweetly.

"Hang up," Forrest snapped. "I told you, I don't want to deal with her drama today. Tell her I'm busy."

Evelin giggled softly into the phone. "Sorry, Carmen. Forrest is a little tied up right now. I'll tell him you called. Bye-bye."

Click.

The dial tone hummed in Carmen's ear. It sounded like a flatline.

She slowly lowered the phone. She looked down at the crumpled ultrasound photo in her lap. The tiny blur of life.

It wasn't a miracle. It was a sick, twisted joke.

A tear fell from her eye, landing directly on the glossy paper, smudging the black ink. Then another fell. And another. She didn't scream. She just sat there, letting the tears soak the paper until the image of her baby was completely ruined.

She had agreed to be the bait. And now, she had absolutely no reason to back out.