Chapter 2

Months blurred into a nightmarish haze, leading us to an isolated cabin miles from anywhere, the place Michael had chosen for our baby to be born. He said it would be "natural," "pure," away from doctors he didn't trust. I was scared, but I trusted him. What choice did I have?

The labor was brutal, a fire tearing through me, and Michael... Michael was calm, too calm. He kept giving me something, a drink he said would help with the pain, but it made my head swim, my body heavy, my thoughts drift like smoke. I was slipping away, into a fog.

Through the fog, I heard voices, his voice, and another, a woman's. Jessica. My stepsister, Jessica. What was she doing here?

"She's almost out," Michael said, his voice low, stripped of any warmth I thought I knew. "The drug is working perfectly."

Jessica laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Good. Is it done yet? I can't wait to be rid of this whole mess, this... her."

My blood ran cold. I tried to move, to speak, but my limbs were lead, my tongue thick. I was trapped inside myself, forced to listen.

"The amnesia was a stroke of genius, wasn't it?" Michael boasted, and I could almost see his smug smile. "She bought it completely. Never suspected you were always the one, Jess. My true love."

My true love. The words he' d used to describe the woman he was leaving for, before my stupid, desperate act. It was all a lie. Every moment, every touch, every whispered promise. A lie.

"And the baby?" Jessica' s voice was sharp, impatient. "What about her baby? We stick to the plan, right? It has to go. We can' t have that thing complicating our future."

"Of course," Michael said, his tone chillingly practical. "It' ll be easy. She' s so out of it, she won' t know a thing. We tell her it was stillborn. Tragic, but these things happen in home births, especially with a mother so... fragile."

Fragile. He meant me.

Then his voice dropped, filled with a venom that made my skin crawl. "And then, once she' s 'recovered,' we' ll explain her mental instability. How she needs to contribute. I know a place in the city, a rough part, but they pay well. She can earn good money for us, for our baby, Jess. The one we' ll have when this is all over."

Jessica giggled. "Perfect. And her mother, that old hag, dying before she could see her precious Sarah brought so low. Poetic, really."

My mother. He was gloating about my mother. The pain of that, sharper than any labor pang, cut through the drugs. I wanted to scream, to claw at them, but I was paralyzed, a silent witness to their monstrous plot. My baby. My life. They were stealing everything.