Chapter 4

Room 312.

I swiped the keycard. The lock clicked open.

The comments were a deafening roar in my vision, almost blinding me.

`"IT'S HAPPENING!"`

`"THE CONFRONTATION SCENE!"`

I pushed the door open.

And there they were.

Mark, shirtless, his pants unbuttoned.

And Brit, in a flimsy robe that barely covered anything, her hair mussed, a triumphant smirk on her face when she saw me.

The air was thick with cheap perfume and betrayal.

Mark scrambled back, his face a mask of shock, then guilt. "Ellie! What... what are you doing here?"

Brit, however, showed no shame. She moved closer to Mark, possessive.

"Isn't it obvious, Mark? She knows. It's over for you two."

Her voice was smug, confident. The "heroine" claiming her prize.

"He never loved you, you know," Brit said, looking me up and down with disdain. "You were just convenient. Your money, your connections."

The words were meant to hurt, and they did, but a cold anger was rising above the pain.

"Get out of my way, Brit," I said, my voice low.

"Or what?" she sneered. "You going to cry to your daddy?"

I tried to push past her, to get to Mark, to understand, to scream.

But Brit shoved me. Hard.

Not a playful push. A violent, angry shove.

I stumbled backward, my balance gone.

The suite had a short, steep flight of decorative stairs in the entryway, a stupid architectural flourish.

My heel caught.

I fell.

The world tilted, then went black.

I woke up in a hospital room.

The first thing I saw was Chloe, my older sister, her face etched with worry and fury.

The first thing I felt was an emptiness, a profound, aching void in my belly.

Chloe' s hand found mine. "Ellie. Oh, Ellie."

Her eyes told me everything before the doctor even spoke.

The baby was gone.

My baby. The one I was supposed to die for, according to the script.

Mark was there too, a wreck. Red-eyed, unshaven, babbling apologies.

"Ellie, I'm so sorry, I never meant... it was a mistake... please..."

I looked at him, and felt nothing. Just a vast, cold emptiness.

Chloe's voice cut through his pleas, sharp as glass. "The hotel security called the police, Mark. Brit's been arrested for assault."

The comments above Mark' s head were a frantic, confused buzz.

`"Plot twist! The baby's gone early! Does this mean the 'first wife' gets a new storyline? Or will she still die?"`

`"OMG, the writers didn't see this coming! Is she going to get revenge?"`

`"This changes EVERYTHING."`

Yes, I thought, feeling the coldness solidify within me. It changes everything.

My baby was gone. But I was still here.

And the script was officially in flames.