Chapter 2

I opened my mouth to tell him.

To tell him about the clinic, about the emptiness inside me.

"Julian," I started, my voice weak.

But Liv spoke first, her voice suddenly stronger, laced with a practiced tremor.

"Oh, Ellie, thank God you' re here."

She struggled to sit up, her hand protectively on her own stomach.

"I was just telling Julian... I feel so awful about all this. About him having to... to claim my baby."

Her eyes, wide and innocent, found mine.

"It' s just... after what happened... the assault... I couldn' t bear for people to know I was pregnant from... from that. The shame would kill me."

She was good. Very good.

She twisted the narrative, making herself the victim, the one deserving of protection.

Her lower lip trembled.

"I know it' s put you in a terrible position, Ellie. And Julian too. I' m so, so sorry."

She looked at Julian, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"I told him, it' s my fault. My trauma. My fear. I shouldn' t have asked him to do it."

Emotional blackmail, delivered with an artist' s touch.

She was painting herself as fragile, broken, while painting me into a corner of silent suffering.

Julian' s expression softened further, his gaze full of pity for her.

He turned to me, his hand still on Liv' s shoulder.

"Ellie, I know you' re generous. You understand, don' t you?"

He wasn' t asking. He was telling me.

He was asserting my acceptance of this monstrous lie.

Resignation settled in my bones.

What was the point of arguing? He wouldn' t hear me. He only heard Liv.

"Yes, Julian," I said, my voice flat. "I understand."

My agreement was a lie, a bitter echo of his own.

Inside, my decision to leave him, to erase him, solidified into cold, hard certainty.

Liv let out a sigh of relief, her performance complete.

"Oh, thank you, Ellie. You' re so kind."

She even managed a weak smile.

"Julian, darling, maybe we could all have some tea? I' m feeling a bit shaky."

I wanted to refuse, to walk away.

But my legs felt like lead. The procedure had taken its toll.

I was trapped, forced to endure her presence, her manipulation, a moment longer.

I nodded mutely, sinking into the nearest sofa, the fabric cool against my skin.

The proximity was a torment.

The housekeeper brought tea.

Liv, now the center of attention, fussed.

The tea was too hot. Then too weak.

She needed a special cushion for her back.

Julian hovered over her, his concern almost comical in its intensity.

He adjusted the cushion. He tested the tea temperature.

He spoke to her in low, soothing tones.

Every gesture, every word, was a public display of his favoritism.

I watched, a silent, invisible observer in my own home.

The pain was a dull ache, a constant throb of suffocation.

Suddenly, a crash from the hallway.

A large, antique vase on a pedestal, one Julian' s mother had given us, teetered and then fell, shattering on the marble floor.

It had been near the entrance to the living room.

Julian jumped, startled.

Liv screamed, a high-pitched, theatrical sound.

Then, she did something extraordinary.

She lunged, not away from the falling vase, but towards Julian.

She pushed him, hard.

He stumbled back, out of the path of the largest falling pieces.

Liv took the brunt of the impact, or so it seemed.

She cried out, collapsing onto the floor amidst the porcelain shards.

A heroic sacrifice, perfectly staged.

"Liv!" Julian rushed to her side, his face pale with alarm.

She moaned, clutching her arm.

"Julian... are you... are you okay?" she gasped, her voice weak.

"I think... I think it hit my arm. And my side."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with feigned pain and bravery.

"I had to push you. It was falling right towards you."

She was already exploiting it, milking the drama.

Julian was frantic. "We need to get you to a doctor. Now!"

He scooped her up into his arms.

In his haste, he turned, knocking into the small side table where I sat.

The edge of it caught my hip, hard.

I gasped, a sharp pain shooting through me.

He didn' t notice.

He didn' t even look at me.

His entire world was focused on Liv, cradled in his arms like a precious, broken doll.

He rushed out of the room, shouting for his driver.

Leaving me behind, injured and ignored.

I remembered a night, years ago, curled up with him on this very sofa.

A storm raged outside, much like the one that had recently passed.

"You' re my only focus, Ellie," he' d whispered, his lips against my hair.

"Nothing and no one will ever be more important than you."

Promises.

Broken like the vase on the floor.

The irony was a constant, bitter companion.

The pain in my hip throbbed.

I was alone.

Again.

Slowly, carefully, I pushed myself up from the sofa.

My body ached from the clinic, from the blow to my hip.

My heart ached from his utter disregard.

I would have to get myself to a doctor.

I would have to take care of myself.

Because no one else would.

Especially not Julian.