Chapter 3

I couldn't bear another loss.

I started digging into my family's lore, the old books and journals my parents left behind.

There had to be a way to protect my future children, to understand the balance I had clearly broken.

The house was quiet one afternoon. Liam was supposed to be at the Hamilton Corporation offices.

I was in the library, surrounded by dusty texts, when I heard voices from the adjoining study.

Liam. And Ethan.

"Chloe is getting weaker," Ethan said, his voice strained. "The last 'essence' didn't last as long."

My blood ran cold. Essence?

Liam' s voice was calm, reassuring. "Don't worry. Sarah will conceive again. We just need to be patient. Her lineage is strong. The children provide potent essence."

Children. My children.

"But this is draining her," Ethan pressed. "And what if she finds out? What about your plan to find a 'Lifeweaver' to stabilize Chloe permanently?"

Liam chuckled, a sound that made my skin crawl.

"Sarah is the Lifeweaver, Ethan. Or rather, she will be, once she's desperate enough to use her full power for Chloe. Her little 'gifts' are already working wonders for the family, even if she doesn't know it. And as for her finding out about the miscarriages... I handle that. The doctors are on our payroll. Each loss makes her more dependent, more willing to do anything for a healthy child."

My breath hitched. I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle a sob.

My marriage. My lost babies. All of it.

A plot. A monstrous, cold-blooded plot to sustain Chloe Vance.

Liam's love, his grief, his protection – all a lie.

I stumbled back, knocking over a small stack of books.

The voices in the study stopped.

Silence.

Then, Liam' s footsteps approaching the library door.

I scrambled to look busy, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

He opened the door, a concerned frown on his face. "Sarah? Are you alright, darling? You look pale."

His eyes, usually so warm, now seemed like polished stones.

I forced a smile. "Just tired. Reading too much."

"You should rest," he said, his hand on my arm. His touch felt like a brand. "We need you strong."

Yes, he did. Strong enough to bear more children for his obscene harvest.

The realization settled in, cold and heavy.

He was planning the next miscarriage, preserving my health only so I could conceive again, and again.

And then, the "stabilization ritual" for Chloe, using my own powers.

My life was a carefully constructed cage.