Chapter 2

Ethan continued his performance at the hospital, his arm around me, guiding me through the throng of reporters.

"Please, give us some space," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "My wife has been through a terrible ordeal."

Marcus flanked us, looking grim and protective, a loyal soldier.

A loyal actor, I now knew.

I let myself be led, my mind racing, a storm of betrayal and fury gathering inside me.

I had to play along, for now.

I was trapped.

He made sure I was seen by everyone, looking broken and victimized.

His hand on my back felt like a brand.

Every feigned word of comfort was a new stab of pain.

I saw a flicker of a glance between Ethan and Marcus, a silent confirmation.

They thought I was too drugged, too traumatized to understand.

They were wrong.

The emergency room was cold, sterile.

Ethan insisted on speaking to the doctor privately first. "To spare Ava the details," he told a nurse, loud enough for me to hear.

I was left on a gurney in a curtained-off cubicle.

Marcus stood guard outside, but his attention seemed conveniently elsewhere.

The curtain wasn't fully closed.

I could hear them talking, Ethan and a doctor, just a few feet away.

"The internal injuries are significant, Mr. Maxwell," the doctor said, his voice somber. "There was... a pregnancy. Very early stages. I'm afraid she's lost it."

A pregnancy?

My breath caught. I hadn't known.

A tiny, secret life, gone before I even knew it existed.

Tears pricked my eyes, hot and sudden.

"And," the doctor continued, "given the trauma, it's highly unlikely she'll be able to conceive again. The damage is severe."

Infertility.

My world, already shattered, fractured further.

"She's also exhibiting signs of severe PTSD," the doctor added. "It would be best to control any media exposure, to prevent further trauma."

Ethan' s voice was grave, concerned. "Of course, doctor. Whatever is best for Ava."

Liar.

Later, I heard Marcus confirming things to Ethan in a hushed tone, just outside my cubicle again.

"The medical report is clear, sir. Infertility confirmed. The evidence is solid."

"Excellent," Ethan murmured. "Proceed with the media narrative. Damaged. Unstable. It needs to stick."

My baby. My ability to have children. All sacrificed for his ambition.

The last shred of love I might have clung to turned to ash.